News of the princess and I flew all over the country, surpassing into other kingdoms like a wind in the Sahara desert. It had started as the greatest news that my heart was content with, but little by little, it became news that not even the writer himself, would love. My past was being studied like a subject, with each page being turned and in-depth being analyzed. Maybe, if a subject was as treasonous as I was, I would tell any student to do an in-depth analysis of key information about it. Some papers stated that I was not a Viking, while others stated the Duke had an affair outside marriage that bore me, but the news still remained that I solemnly was not one to deserve a surname on bestowment.
Inside the Hirlvington house, it was quiet. None spoke on the matter, for the Viscount would viciously reprimand you to withdraw the statement. I had taken into consideration my yearning for the princess, but I never wanted her to get into my mess or, rather, know my roots. Of course I liked her as much, and heaven knows how much I would enjoy having her as my partner not only for a single dance ball, but for all the balls that will happen in our house together forever. I waited for a letter from my father, but none came in my acknowledgement. Mornings and days became boring in Hirlvington, and I had already started feeling the weight of my course on my shoulders. My heart, of course, had already hardened, but my fear was seeing myself lose the princess. I had already started falling for her, and having to see her leave would be as much torture to me as anything else.
"From the King, my lord." The Viscount's right-hand soldier brought a letter to the Viscount as we were busy taking our lunch. About a month had passed since the previous ball, and with the events of the unscrupulous rumors that yearned to tarnish my name as much as possible, nothing felt right. No noble invited us to any ball dance or party. It was always the norm in England that any home influenced by or taking part in a scandal was never invited, except that of the king. Many balls had been set, but none had Hirlvington visiting. William neither spoke to me, while, out of the corner of my eye, I observed how badly the lady of the house watched me. The place had somehow turned into a lion's den, with nothing but hopeful thoughts. However, despite the looks, William's sister always found time to come and speak to me. She had started to even visit me at the chairs where I sat meditating about my past, and she could ask me about myself and my life. I would lie, stating that she, became a part of my distraction. Beautiful, isn't it? Indeed, it was. The viscount read the letter and placed it down, with his face showing no emotion at the moment. When the viscontess took it and read it aloud,
"To Lord Hirlvington, the Viscount.
My apologies for the scandal brought about to your family by the actions of my child and the duke's son. I adversely request a word with him and you in regard to the matter. My princess seems to have no affiliations in the matter, and she refuses to set on stage with anyone other than him. My gracious appreciation would be a word with the Lord Willock, with whom can solemnly explain his actions and wishful desires. I am kind, but rules are rules. Shutting up the trembles of the rumors in this city is either way, and if not the one way I choose, then I'm sure you wouldn't love the second.
Graciously, King Henry.
The king wants to have a word with you and Lord Willock?" The viscontess asked, and all eyes were fully set on me. I had no words—nothing. The viscount cleared his throat and then firmly stated, "This remains with us. Willock, finish up, and we talk in the study." And with that, he left and entered the study room. I felt everything revolve around me for the first time. From the start, not much revolved, but today, in a guest house, in a new place, I was setting high-class nobles into the most utter losses and disrespect by others. I felt wounded on their behalf; 'maybe I should leave before things get worse', was the thought that suddenly caught my mind. I ate the food, forcefully, for my appetite, since the rumors of my roots started spreading, was no help in regard to my wants of filling my stomach. After finishing, I woke up on my seat and carried my steps steadily towards the viscount's study. He readily asked the guards to usher me in, and I quietly welcomed myself, of course, and sat on one of his chairs. "You like the girl as much boy?" He stated, not looking at me but calculating or maybe signing some piles of papers. The question actually took me aback, and I did not know what to answer when he now faced me and closely looked at me as if analyzing my facial expression and continued, "The King wants to betroth you to the princess to quiet the rumors. Otherwise, you will have to leave. But you cannot." He kept quiet about that, and I saw how much his fingers fidgeted, and his eyes looked down as if downloading the thoughts, "Your marriage to the princess if it shall happen, is quite not right. I may say." I felt I knew where this conversation was going, but I needed rightful answers. When I saw his eyes lock with the art of my mother, that which I looked at on the first day of my arrival. "You see her; she is your mother. She bore you, Willock." He again observed me, even for a slight shock, but I also knew that. He was telling me things about which I had an idea, but hearing this from him made all my answers and assumptions come to light. So the Viscount is to be my uncle, but the puzzle in regard to who my real father was, was still a bet. But the odds, in relation to Lady Elizabeth's words, were on the king, but in relation to Henry, the Vikings held the greater odds. I wanted to speak, but my throat was dry. I had already forgotten my speeches; for most of them, I made them alone in my room. Maybe on the scrap of mirror or on the tons of papers that I had started scribbling, dictating my feelings and wants. The last one I spoke to was the sister. No one else, not even my guards, who saw how troubled and alone I was. Henry had already left for an art competition, and I sure would state that I was alone. You can imagine "You don't seem surprised by my words, I see." The viscount stated, and so I found the words to state, "Father, told me. He always made me visit and bring flowers to her grave. Then, he would give me stories about her. Her love for music and art." Hearing that made the viscount make a simple smile and state, "Glad you know that, son. She never deserved any of that. However, the situation never gets worse; for you, you are a threat to the English throne. I don't know how badly or well that sounds, but you are the rightful heir of the throne, and for now, bastards are being treated adversely and rightly as deserved by the correspondent parent. I believe, with the books and knowledge you have, that you understand my statement in regard to you and the princess. You are young and adversely handsome enough to enjoy the flourishes of other princesses in other kingdoms, but not her son. She can't be. She can't; otherwise, we all tarnish, and as you should learn from the rumors, not everyone wishes you the best. Remember that." His words could not be compared to those of father. Lady Catherine had warned me about this, but hearing the viscount's talk, firm and in the lowest of his tones, I knew the matter was serious. My looks were never compared to the Vikings, even a bit. He was a muscular type of man, which was greatly showcased in my brother Charles. As for me, I was quite skinny and tall. My face was thin, with a squared chin, unlike my brother's, which was rounded. My skin was lighter, with no blemishes, and my hair was brown, as I always described it. My hair and skin tone were the only things my brother, Charles, and I shared. However, his hair was quite silky, and it dictated some aspects of loss during old age. Father was also bald, which is why he preferred his hair fully shaved with his beards left in showcase. A different Duke indeed. "I quite understood my roots. Every word and every knowledge, but it was never my intent to fall for the princess, for this, is a new knowledge, I have to deal with." I stated, and I saw the viscount look at me with worry written on his face, "I understand. Tomorrow, set yourself. We leave for a word with the king. You know your answer. In the evening, a carriage has already been set up, and you leave for the night, towards Lake Tigris. Your house is set, and there, you will stay until all this matter is settled and forgotten. For the princess, I am not certain of her heart's state, but I hope she finds one she will truly love again. You may leave." The viscount always made plans and set them one by one for the next, next, and next day. He was different from father, who waited for the occurrence of a situation and then quickly dictate a plan for the same. He had already set his thoughts and did not care as much about my feelings. Or maybe he did. I rose steadily, bowed in his presence, and then left. Words of losing my princess crowded my thoughts; it felt hard, and a part of my heart ached for the same. This was a different feeling, and I felt my eyes water as the pain sharpened, but I was a man, and men were expected to never cry. Everyone outside looked at me, maybe wanting my statement, checking my face, or anything else, but this time I felt some new feelings. It was another departure—unwanted again, I became. How lucky, isn't it? I entered my room and found the maidens starting to pack my things. It felt as if I was already leaving today. It was more of leave as fast, than goodbye brother. Watching them fold my clothes made my fist clench and my heart ache. My eyes had already absorbed the tears with the teeth clench of hardening myself, which I had always taught myself from childhood. I heard myself swallow a heavy lump of saliva. It was painful, but I had to let it go. I left the room and went to the outside of the castle. On one of the swinging seats, I saw the princess of this house, the viscount's daughter. She was buried in a book and swinging herself slowly, and I so, decided to approach her. She was quite the same age as the princess, I may say, but she was not yet available, according to the viscount's rules, for marriage or any courtship. "What book is that, dear sister?" I stated. I had already started calling her sister, for she reminded me as much of my little sister back in the Duke's. She steadily raised her face and, in a frown, stated, "You confused me; now I have to start the page again." That made me chuckle, and I quietly sat next to her in the next swing. "You seem troubled." She added, to which I shook my head in refusal. But I was more than troubled. "I just need some fresh air. You see, you are a princess." I told her, looking deeply at her with the same blue eyes we shared. She took that from her father, if I may say so. "You are a princess, and always will be. And I am an unwanted individual. And a princess as beautiful as you should never be entangled in the troubles of a man like me." Maybe she felt this as a joke; I am not sure, but this was not a statement to her; it felt like adversely comforting myself on the grounds that the princess and I would not end up together. "Don't you want to marry the princess someday, Willock? You told me you liked her." She asked, and I just smiled difficultly at that. "Of course I did. Liking was not just the only part of it; you see, love is as complicated as weather, seasons, and people. I haven't known her enough, but she has become the air I breathe, but I, I, can never be the air she should breathe." The viscount's daughter, despite her young age, understood everything. She somehow knew a lot about love and carried the aura of a civilized woman, which I so much wanted my sister to become. "Books say love is an illusion." I laughed at that and just stated, "It is never an illusion; it is always real; only the realism is different between people. For some, it is set and defined, but for others, it is nothing but a far stare." And with that, we both went silent, as the sister returned to the focus of her book and I rethought my troubles. Looking at the girl next to me made me thank heavens that I had found another young sister, with whom I quite enjoyed accompanying and listening to her wants of literature and books. I knew the following day would be adventurous and painful; I felt I was maybe set or Maybe not. Despite that, I still felt the heaviness. Will Henry ever find me? What if people realize my real roots? I was scared, and the worst thing was that I would not only put my name in tarnish but also for those who took part in my hiding, especially my father and the Hirlvington. "You seem troubled." Lady Hilda stated it again. She had now closed her book and set all her focus on me. I so cleared my throat and just decided to tell her the truth: "I so shall leave as soon." I stated, paused to see her reaction, and then continued, "The king's wish cannot be granted. I am, I eeh." I searched for the words to explain my reason but lacked them when the lady stated in a heavy and hurt tone, "You say you are leaving? You can't marry the princess? You said you liked her, didn't you? You danced with her cousin. Were you leading her on?" The questions became many, and as if hearing the voice, William arrived as fast. "What? What did I hear?" He stated. And I knew that this was the point where I would become a villain, the bad one. Villains are also good people, aren't they? "He states he can't be betrothed to the princess, brother." Lady Hilda detailed, and I could hear the hate in her words. She had a right to speak to me in such terms. She sure had. My head was buried on the floor, and their words became like loud music banging and making my mind refocus when suddenly William, via my shirt collars, took me on his hand and raised me up high to face him. I never knew he was that strong. This was the part where he would beat me or do something worse. I was ready for it; for anything, I too needed it; I needed some physical pain. For the truth was, even if matters were set and I were to marry the princess, what good would I offer her? The Duke's property was set for his rightful son; my mother was sleeping in the grave dead; my father, as told, was a king, but I never once talked to him. I would give her a worthless life, a life of living under my pains, when I heard a hefty blow on the side of my cheek. "Brother," was the shout I heard his sister state. I felt as if one of my jaws had broken from that; just blood filled my mouth. Was I that weak? I again asked myself as William stopped his acts and removed his hands from my collars. "I'll go and get some ice." Lady Hilda stated, "Please behave; I am coming." William did not speak, but I still heard his heavy breathing from wherever I was. If it were my part of the fight, I knew I would easily kick him or beat him up, but I wanted the feeling. That pain—I needed it. To feel it, that's what kept me going since childhood—a little pain, a little scratch from wrestling, a little bruise from fighting with the bullies, a little scar from falling trying to ride on heat horses—I needed it. Or maybe that's what made me weak. 'A little pain'. As I thought, William's sister arrived with the ice bag as fast, and requested that I sit. It was, of course, painful, but I did not flinch even a little at her actions. I just wanted the feeling; a little beating would do. I needed a punching bag to take off all this pain I felt, for I did not want any tear to fall off my face, tomorrow, when I face the king and shove him my request. Father always taught me to never dance with a lady twice if I never had the intention of courtship. Maybe this is where I state, "Okay, I had the intention of courtship, but marriage was not on the table.". "That will help it not swell. By tomorrow, the pain won't be as severe. My apologies for my acts; I never wanted my brother to do that. He's quite hot-tempered." William's sister stated, and I just nodded to that and smiled a bit as if stating I had accepted the situation, when she continued, "Why didn't you fight back?" That was a question I couldn't answer, so I just stood and simply stated, "Thank you for the ice. I will answer that someday." And with that, I left, hoping to find the maidens having finished their packing of my things. I was finally maybe ready to leave, but tomorrow, I don't know how I would face the princess when I state my yearnings. She might hate me forever, I was scared.