A glimpse of hope, our own love letter... Welcome all to the King's ballroom dance, to celebrate the engagement of our very own Lord Willock and our gracious princess Diana... Come one, come all.
The words were well-written and dispatched everywhere. I read them as if it were the first time hearing the news. I thought when I am finally engaged to the princess, I would be the happiest man alive. Of course, I am happy, yes, I am so very happy. Who wouldn't be? I am just set back by the fact that the King took it all in his hands to prepare everything, as if I had no family here. It just did not feel right. The groom's family was supposed to make the ballroom announcement, but I still, maybe, felt it was least of my concerns. Kings sometimes make things feel of much importance to them than they seemingly should.
It had already been a week and some days since my travel back from the Lake of Tigris. I had told my news to my mum, and I now knew I had her blessings. Father took the news quite well, but mother and Charles were quite saddened by the fact that they were not the ones to prepare the occasion and everything. Charles loved the ballroom; he just felt somehow he would find the one woman he loved there. Mother loved preparing ballrooms, and I knew her fears. Her fears were women talking and gossiping that I was a weakling or stating that my family was in the adage of debts, the reason why the King offered to aid in my engagement party. I knew their thoughts were true; there is no assault or anything on my statement would make the King's words change, and the ballroom was the weekend. Meaning, time to prepare was quite minimal, but I just took everything quite nonchalant. I mean, I just let the days move by as I helped father in his checks, as he told me to start showing and teaching my brother the workings of the family. He seemed in distress; it was like something was disturbing him.
"Father, is there something of distress?" I asked right after our supper. Night had already set in. "What do you mean?" He asked, acting up as he walked himself into the library to continue working. I wished to know what was disturbing him, but he seemed quite not ready to talk. Hence, I decided to go find him some beer and head to the library to have him speak. Beer in this house was always set in one corner, so it was easy to find. So I took it and headed to the library. Father was quite busy making calculations. I knew how important he took calculations, and how much he hated when someone distracted him in his calculations. "What is it, son?" He asked, raising his face to face me as I sat, putting some beer onto one cup and another onto mine, and offering him.
"Just wanted to drink up with you, Father. I fear soon, you will forget my stay in this home," I stated, and I suddenly felt the loneliness and the pain I have been escaping.
"What kind of thing are you stating, boy? You don't like the princess?" He asked, which made me shake my head vigorously. I loved that girl; heaven knows how much I would kill just to have her. "Then that answers everything. You like her, you be with her," he added.
"Something troubles you, Father," I stated, "never seen you like this, even after sister left." My sister had already left during that engagement ceremony. They had stated they would be married, but they seemed to be in a hurry to just have her. I just hoped she was happy with her Italian husband. I just hoped.
"My troubles, son, are that I never saw this coming, my children. I never saw you all grow up and finally leave, and the fact that Charles shall take over this home pains me." I now understood his pains. Brother Charles was not the kind of child any father dreads to leave for his works of sweat and pains for years. Brother was the best party boy I ever met; even Amir would not lay into the line of crowning as brother would. He sure knew how to sway around women and just lay them without a second thought of the picture he portrayed at home. Ever since he became old enough to feel manhood desires, he seemed like a wildflower, seeking release onto every being around. I wished I could change the sadness in father; I wished I could.
"Charles shall learn, Father; he just needs more time," I stated.
"Time is not something to be waited on, Willock. Time never comes when you wish one to change. You wait, wait and wait, until one day you realize you wasted years waiting for a boy who would never turn into a man, the whole damn time," he stated, as I saw him gulp down the whole beer that I had placed on his cup, and I added him more. When father was drunk, he just said out all his troubles. That's how I came to know Lady Isla was my mother, twelve years of age, sitting drunk, back in Tigris, and he made me sit on his lap as he told me that the woman we visit every Thursday of the first week of January is she, the woman who bore me. I was young but I understood; I always questioned my roots. But then I knew we were there to visit her, as we would return back here in Bavdon. He was taking his time accepting that he was a Duke; he took a lot of time accepting. Already, brother was there, and sister was also there, but he still seemed in disagreement. I sometimes see father in Charles, as he says he sees Lady Isla in me. I wonder how mother was. I am always called out as 'you look like your mother, your eyes blue like your mother's,' but the King's eyes are blue too. Sometimes I feel they overrate statements just to remind me of my mother or make me relieved that she is remembered in a good way.
"Father, do you feel in debt that the King takes the engagement preparation into his hands?" I asked, now attentively waiting for his answer, and he just laughed. One thunderous laugh out there. "The King is your father, my boy. He knew I took you in; you see that guard on your door... the dark one. He's meant to protect you; he is never paid by me, but the King has always taken care of him. In Iraq, that boy, the dark one, I'm sure you ever saw him... I'm sure you did, a dark boy, very weird. He was also sent by the King, a son of that guard, a son of his. I knew this day would come, my boy, when you would leave and take your crown. I just never thought it would be faster. Twenty-three years fly fast, or how many are you, twenty? I just see you as the small little boy forced to work in the stable by the Viscount; I just see you as that." As he spoke, some memories started revealing in me, seeing William leaving for school, seeing William training with the guards; those things were always dreams I was used to having, dreams that I thought had not much significance. That's why I felt very familiar with the Viscount's house; it's like I knew all the hideouts, and I had not been there. I just walked and found myself somewhere that I sort of had a familiar sensation of. I just... I started solving the puzzle. Then, so why did the king have me live far away from his home when all along he could easily come for me? The queen, the queen's fear. I get it now; she feared. She was always in fear, and I suddenly hated the confusion I felt in my brain. I hated it. "Do you wish I never met the princess?" I asked. "If I were to be honest..., yes..., she made it easier for the King to finally correct his youthful mistakes. He is trying hard to please you, in order to feel that he at least has made up for the time he was unavailable." "But his wrongs, Father, seek no forgiveness," I stated. "Son, one day when you shall have your family, you will realize why some wrongs need forgiveness. When you sleep, you see those wrongs; when you walk, you see the wrongs; when you kneel onto God, you see those wrongs. They become a loop, they become a pattern, eating you inside. You have a family, but you cannot find them to fill the space and emptiness you have. You seek another thing to feel, and the wrongs take that emptiness to haunt you. He has always been haunted by Lady Isla's death... I wonder if he shall ever find peace. I know he blames himself daily for that, especially now he sees how symbolic you've become of her rather than him." Father's words seemed like they were justifying His Majesty's actions. I am just happy I did not face the wrath most bastards face. Death is the ultimate cause of being a bastard; no one really cares about you, not one, really not one. On finishing our beer, I set my cup aside, told Father my good nights, and left for my room. The guards were already asleep; I needed also to know about that boy, the son of the guard who always stood on my door. It is sad to have your family become dogs of your master. I just wanted to see him; he seemed to have much of me in him. We would be quite good friends, I am sure.