"I did know, deep down, that father had been given the greatest of deals by the King in order for him to accept everything he was to say about me. I knew and felt he would never accept anything to do with me leaving his care, even at once. I wonder what the King had told him; however, I knew the dice had already rolled, and I was currently heading to the viscount to give him the news, of course, as directed by his majesty and his grace, the duke of Vikings. I had never really had a chance to know deeply what kind of person the viscount was, so maybe this news would never surprise him. Maybe he would just shrug and say, 'Alright, do what you wish.' I felt that was most likely the likenings and doings by him; anyway, being beside the princess was the best of all in the matter.
"Hello," I started after reaching the viscount's gates, as the soldiers would not let me in. "I am sent by his majesty, the son of the Duke of Vikings, please," I added, making them open the gates, confusion running through their minds. It was already evening; our journey and the talk had taken all the time, so most likely I was to spend the night in the viscount's residence. As the cottage entered, I saw the Viscount and his whole family walking outside, as if the news had already spread to him. They watched the cottage, and I walked out, knowing they all saw me; it just felt gracious, like one messenger who carried the best and gracious of messages from an enemy.
"Hello, uncle," I stated. It was, of course, the first time I had regarded him as uncle; it felt all weird stating those words; it sure was.
"Hello, Willock, please come in," the viscount stated. Due to the spectacles he wore, I sure knew I had removed him from his library, where he was always busy working. I just nodded as I acknowledged William and his little sister. I sure had forgotten her name, but she had grown pretty. I am sure the next season's ballroom, she will be ready to be introduced for the eligible bachelors to seek her hand. Of course, women were set out early; it was always something, but I never thought about it much. At least we, men, were never under pressure of marriage; never were. But at some age, even fathers ended up resenting their unmarried sons. Sometimes that did happen, and when it would happen, the sons would end up marrying any girl, without seeking to know her behaviors, roots, workings, knowledge, and her family background. They would just marry to fulfill the promises and at least stop the wails of their fathers. The viscount set me into his library as he requested one of the maidens to offer me some coffee.
"What brings you here, boy?" He stated. His voice had not yet changed, the same voice, filled with the base, and never ceasing to showcase that he was in charge when talking. "I have news. I know you heard the statements of the king yesterday," I started as he slowly nodded, as if all his attention were on nothing else but me. I took the deepest of breaths as I found my left leg shaking. Why was I suddenly nervous? I found myself questioning in my head. "Father accepts," I added, but he seemed not to realize I had finished what I wanted to say. It was like he still wanted me to add more details. I was too nervous to add; I have no idea why I was. He was nowhere near to father, but he seemed somehow to intimidate me sometimes. "You state, the Duke accepts your betrothal to the princess?" He asked, to which I nodded. Of course, I wanted to speak, but my mouth seemed too dry to formulate a speech. I was maybe scared that his son William would realize he had some agendas and likings for the princess. "We just arrived earlier to meet his majesty. He had called for father and me. However, we went with my younger brother Charles. The King states that he shall accept my betrothal to the princess, only and only if I am to stay in his palace. Okay, it was not an only if; he had just made up his mind that I am to stay in the palace. I heard him; he was deciding on Wales and Scotland, the best for us," I stated, now less nervous. I felt confident to speak. "And what was the Duke's statement?" He asked. "He saw no wrongs in it," I stated. "Okay, so be it," he stated, but he seemed not to be quite happy. He seemed just in acceptance because after all, it was me who had brought the news. He just seemed really off this time. It was too easy, I would say. "I know and have seen your likings for the princess. She is quite a catch, I sure know. I believe you have ideas about plantations and businesses. The Duke sent you to the best of schools; that too I know. You will do graciously in the palace; you will become the prince that you always have been," he added.
"I don't wish to be a prince; all my life I have lived as a Duke's son," I stated.
"Your fate has been changed, son. Do you understand? What fate lies in your hand is being given that which no bastard has ever gotten, and additionally, you get to marry a princess... What bastard is as fortunate as you?" He questioned, his voice now filling the room as if lecturing me.
"I understand," I stated.
"You do not have to serve the people in the names of Dukes or princes. What matters is people get to love your work because you do it from your heart. I know the Duke is not much of a straightforward leader, but surely you can deduce the best from the worst. And if the King's wish is for you to join him in leadership, then you are the luckiest boy in England," he stated, which made me breathe in and out, as if trying hard to process everything.
"Okay, I... I understand," I stated, and then remembered I could not set to leave today as it would already be late. "Can I stay for the night?" I added, "It will be late when I am to depart."
"Eeehh, Okay, I believe by tomorrow your news will be all over the nation. The nation will be quite grand to hear of a royal wedding; they sure love it," he stated and then left.
It was as if everyone did not realize everything I was stating. I sure was telling them that the King wanted me to stay in the palace. That meant the Princess would have married me instead of me marrying her, at least from the citizens' perspective. However, I needed to stop thinking of it that way; it would do me no good, not in the best of ways. I needed to view all that differently, view it in terms of the Viscount and father's perspective, see the bigger picture.
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Times Square:
Dearest citizens, One may say modesty is a virtue; however, Times Square wishes to state otherwise. Today, news reaches us that the King's dashing princess, his majesty's perfect, lone beautiful daughter, is set to be handed over to the Duke's ironical and questionable first-born son, the handsome man with whom existence is nothing but a mystery, Lord Willock. However, citizens, it is to be understood that the King wishes not to have her princess taken home but to have his son-in-law take over the large nation of Scottish descent and that of Wales, well to the boy's liking. However, one would not lie to state that the most cunning, squirmy, and knowledgeable of all humans and snakes is a scribbling being, as the words do not really shake as a hand or gift but rather the best makeup by the King for being unavailable during his long-lost first-born bastard.
I write with no hate on the boy, but the question that runs through our minds is, what happened to the boy with whom the Viscount always took care of, that which was born out of the sins of his grace the King and the young dazzling lady Isla, may her soul rest in peace? If we quite recall, the boy seemed to have left right when rumors started on his being and came to be seen in the Viscount's appearance right when he was ready for his first ballroom dance. However, gossip aside, as this might be nothing but thoughts of scheming and hating humans, truly, this scribbling editor is the largest hater of human happiness. My wrongs, I apologize.
Let's celebrate the love of the two dazzling and beautiful young couples, whom we remember met in a ballroom dance, or so maybe we saw, as they embraced the floor with the best of dance—a journey indeed, full of distance, ghosts, ache, and admiration. The princess always bit the most soft spot of my likes—she, the most brilliant, sparkling, innocent girl, whom I have seen rise from the unfathomable flames of his roots in Italy to the embrace of his family. Hail, His Majesty.
We wait for the ballroom to rejoice... Hail, His Majesty.
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I read the letters one by one; Times Square was always full of thrills and spills, gossips, and cunnings, but they sure had ideas about most things than any other editing company would. They had questions about me, and as I closed the paper, I saw William, dazzling eyes on me as if he were ready to punch me, and I knew he would. He sure would. In a minute, I felt my face get the hardest of punches, but he sure had no idea how much I have learned since the last time I was there.
"You really went so far, Willock..." He stated as he caught onto my sleeves and collars, as if trying to raise me. We were always almost at length heights, but I knew, I knew if I stop refraining myself from hitting him, I will make the biggest mistake. For every time I'm fighting, many things come to my head. It's like one big flashback; I remember all the adventures, the beatings I had with Armstrong's men, the beatings with Amir, the beatings I made to trees. It just flashed back, and it seemed like a certain pain relief, like an anger.
"Lord William, I wish no harm unto yo…" Before I could finish, he had hit me with one of the glasses on my head, and I felt myself kiss the floor. Worse yet, I finally saw my blood, and my anger took the utmost shift. All I remember was hitting him deadly, as if he was the only thing in my way, and then the guards catching me and pushing me away. Then I just passed out, to wake up next to the King's figure. I was in the palace, my head hurting, and my mind a mess. I knew my knuckles were bruised bad. I sure knew.
"You have some anger there, boy," I heard His Majesty state, and I wondered when we had become this close. I let myself sleep again; I hoped this was a dream, just a dream. I was not ready to have the princess see me in this state. It was always her we fought for, always her. That was the most creepy thing a man would ever do, and I found myself doing. I just don't understand why William felt he had any rights for the princess. I was, despite much more good-looking than he, of course, he was. The Viscount's family seemed to have dashing beauties and handsome hidden in them, starting with my mother, of course, may her soul rest in peace. I copied the Times Square statement.