Plight of the Perfect Prince

by Jason Paul Rice

  “That’s a lovely name, and you can call me Ali-Steven.” He smiled and blushed. “Would it be possible for us to talk, perhaps?”

  “Of course, anything for you, my Prince,” she said as Ali-Steven tied his horse to a post.

  His stomach churned and his palms leaked as they walked around Blackstone Pond. Ali-Steven hadn’t even kissed a girl before he left for war duty at fourteen.

  Chapter 3

  One Year Later

  The wedding ceremony neared an end in the small chapel outside the Capitol. The room was almost at capacity with only the bride’s family in attendance. Conversely, the groom was the only member of his family present, but he had a huge grin pasted onto his face. He had only discussed his true intentions with his brother, Ali-Ryen. He knew this wedding could cause drastic repercussions someday, but his love had trumped sound judgment. He couldn’t entertain the thought of marrying anyone other than Rilah Termenson after their whirlwind romance.

  Ali-Steven had to be careful because his father had spies everywhere around Falconhurst. He had tried to avoid his father as much as possible because he felt guilty about his secret love affair. He had to sneak away, mostly at night, to see Rilah. He walked arm-in-arm with his new bride as they exited the wooden building into a typical summer day in Donegal. They headed to the nearby tavern for the reception. Ali-Steven opened the door for his bride and noticed even more of her family members had gathered in the quaint room to celebrate the new union.

  King Ali-Baster had his advisors teaching Ali-Steven the ins and outs of running a realm, which gave him access to the royal treasury. He had slowly pilfered enough gold to pay for his bride’s dress and jewelry and the reception party. He rarely went to see Rilah during the day, but his father was out on a hunt today. Ali-Baster never took his sons along for hunts and the rumor was that he stayed in his coach and drank heavily the entire time. His loose-lipped guards said his boot bottoms barely touched mother earth on a hunt, but he always told glorious stories of perilous hunts pitting him against nature.

  Ali-Steven knew he would have to leave the Capitol for the wedding, but he was still nervous someone would spot him. He hoped his father would say something to give him a glimmer of hope that Rilah would be accepted into his family. As they entered the tavern, he felt guilty that he would have to sneak out to see his new bride. The excited guests congratulated them as they got to sit down on a wooden bench.

  He shook his head and Rilah asked, “What’s the matter, my love?”

  “I just wish this could have been held in the castle, my castle. I plan to talk to my father about this someday, but not right now.”

  She smiled at him and responded, “I think this was perfect, but what if your father never accepts me?”

  He blurted out, “Then I’ll have to kill him.” He said it in a joking manner, but the thought didn’t seem entirely crazy. “No, I won’t do that, but I may have to renounce my title as Prince of Donegal. We could leave this realm and be together, just you and I.”

  She said with concern, “What about my family, your family? We can’t just leave.”

  “Why not? The Gods are telling us that we might have to leave as our love isn’t accepted in this kingdom. At least we could spend all of our time together then.”

  She looked into his eyes and said, “That would be nice. I hate these unannounced meetings we have where you show up out of nowhere only to disappear just as fast. I love seeing you. I just hate the nature of our relationship. I want you to be proud to be married to me and be proud to be part of my family.”

  “I am proud to be part of your family and even more so about being married to you. I’m ashamed of my family and myself. My father wears a crown, but it doesn’t make him an intelligent man, nor an understanding one. It doesn’t make him brave, that much is for certain, and it surely doesn’t make him a good leader. But it does make him right, no matter how ludicrous his position is. He’ll always have enough people to blindly side with him until he dies. I’m proud to be part of all this but if I flaunted it or we were seen in public, it could put everyone here in a lot of danger. Even if I bragged about how I married the greatest woman imaginable, all anyone would ask is, ‘what is her last name?’ Most people in this kingdom don’t understand the power of true love and how you cannot fight it, but I’d rather go up against the best ten swordsmen in all the land. We can’t tell anyone about this secret. Not yet.” He kissed her cheek and rubbed her belly with his left hand.

  He whispered, “This could put us in the most danger, especially if it’s a boy, so we may have to leave this realm after all.”

  He started thinking about how he could leave the kingdom that he had been handed just last summer. He tried to figure out how his love for Rilah could cause him to possibly throw away his chances of ruling Donegal. He took one look at her and his heart pumped with excitement just like the first time he had laid eyes on her.

  Most of her family supported the marriage to a Prince but he looked across the room at the man who didn’t approve one bit. Rilah’s father, Benroke Termenson, sat with his arms crossed.

  Ali-Steven kissed his wife and went to talk to his father by the laws of wedlock.

  The Prince said, “Thank you so much for giving us your blessing.”

  Benroke Termensen had a dark look, brown eyes and a black mustache that hung to his chest. He wore a permanent scowl that made Ali-Steven uncomfortable.

  Benroke grabbed a pewter ewer by the handle and poured some of its contents into a copper tankard and slid it in front of Ali-Steven.

  The older man said, “You a man now. May as well drink like one.”

  The Prince took a sip and almost choked. “Thank you.”

  Ali-Steven barely managed to get the words out. The burning feeling in his throat wouldn’t go away.

  “Takes a little to get used to her.” Benroke chuckled. “I never gave no one my blessing about this mess. Until my daughter gets to walk through the King’s Castle, none of this means nothing. You tell your daddy yet?”

  Ali-Steven didn’t know how to answer. “I haven’t. I can’t. It would put your daughter’s life in danger. It would put your life at risk, too.”

  Benroke stared right into his eyes, “So what ya gonna do? I can’t have you keep sneaking around to see my daughter if the two of you is married. You need to be livin together and starting up a family. My Rilah’s good for at least six or seven children now. I get that you’re a prince and all, but this is my daughter we’re talking about.”

  “I understand. I’ll figure out a way to rectify the matter and make you happy,” Ali-Steven promised.

  “I hope so because right now you’re telling me that my family’s lives is in danger and you don’t really got a plan to fix it. That don’t make me too happy.” Benroke downed some more spirits and turned away from Ali-Steven.

  The Prince spoke to the back of his father by wedlock’s head. “Excuse me, I have to get back to my wife.”

  He got up and tried to enjoy the rest of his reception but that proved impossible. Most of Rilah’s family respected Ali-Steven’s royal blood, but he understood her father’s feelings. His daughter had just married a Prince, yet Benroke was sworn to secrecy and couldn’t tell anyone about Rilah’s husband. Ali-Steven really worried that someone in her family would be tempted to turn them in to the King in hopes of collecting a big reward.

  He didn’t really get to enjoy the rest of the day because thoughts of his future with Rilah seemed clouded. He kissed his new bride for the final time on their wedding day and shifted his shoulder sack in place. He jumped up onto his mount and took one last look at his love as the sun hid behind a wall of oak tree leaves.

  She was perfect, even in the shade. He heeled his horse and headed home. A final peek showed Rilah blowing him kisses. A permanent smile clung to his face as he stopped in the woods to change his clothes. He put his riding attire back on and galloped to the castle, staring at the blood orange sky and gray clouds in the b
ackground.

  He trotted toward the main entrance and saw a royal coach pull up at the front gate. Several whores spilled out of the door. Two ran away from the coach and a nude, giggling woman had to reach back into the ride to get her scant clothing, which made little difference as she put it on right there.

  King Ali-Baster Wamhoff stumbled out, disheveled and seemingly drunk. Ali-Steven could immediately smell the booze and perfume that blended into several other odors to create a formidable stench of debauchery.

  The red-faced King laughed as he looked at Ali-Steven and asked, “What’s my Prince son doing out here?”

  “I was just up north looking for better hunting grounds.”

  His father questioned him, “By yourself?”

  Why was I by myself? Think. We need to think of something.

  “Yes. You see, I didn’t want to take anyone because if I found a good spot, half the kingdom would know about it. You know the way people talk around here. Keep it to ourselves, I was thinking,” Ali-Steven lied.

  “Good thinking. So what did you find?” his father wanted to know.

  Ali-Steven frowned and answered, “Unfortunately, nothing worthy of a king. I plan to keep going out by myself until I find my King father a proper place to hunt.”

  His father peered up to the sky and mused, “You missed a bloody good hunt today. You didn’t get to see your father lock horns, so to speak, with that wild boar.” The King became more animated. “Yes, I wrestled around on the ground with that beast until I finally broke its neck. You should have been there. Why didn’t you come out today?”

  He looked away from his father. “Because you didn’t invite me.”

  A confused King squinted his eyes, appearing in deep thought. “Didn’t I? Damn this memory, I thought I had. I’ll be certain to alert you before the next hunt so I can show you how it’s done.”

  He stared at his father’s richly adorned hunting clothes. The only noticeable stains were caused by red wine and brown gravy.

  You’re an amazing man. You killed a boar with your bare hands yet you don’t have stain of grass or dirt to show for it. Astounding, father.

  “Nothing like a good hunt to get the blood boiling and the stomach going. Let’s go eat,” announced Ali-Baster, wrapping his hefty arm around his son’s shoulders.

  He was forced to hold up his staggering father as they walked an uneven path to the Fox Den for supper.

  They walked into the hall and the king started giving orders to the serving girls. “We’re eating right now, so get some food and drink out here before we starve to death, will you?”

  The Kitchen Master, Davin Melley, ran toward the back with the girls to try to please the King. The Wamhoff men sat at a long, rectangular table across from each other.

  “Father,” Ali-Steven said.

  “What?” the King asked as he glared around the empty room.

  Ali-Steven spoke softly, “I think I’ve figured out the best way to serve my kingdom.”

  His father interrupted, “It’s about damn time they bring us a drink.”

  Ali-Steven turned around to see the serving girl hustling toward them with jugs of wine and empty chalices on a silver serving tray.

  Ali-Steven waited until his father had a few gulps before he continued. “I think the best thing I can do for the kingdom and our family is to go on a strategic military campaign to bring back gold and jewels to my father, just like we did in Livingstone.”

  He really planned to leave the campaign to sneak off and disappear with his wife.

  The King kept looking around the room as he talked. “I just brought you back from war. I can’t have you getting killed now. You’ve got to carry on my legacy. You need to learn that while war is fun, you need to know how to rule a realm. Cutting off a man’s head on the battlefield won’t help you control a kingdom. My advisors tell me you pick up on new information quickly. Good. Consider yourself lucky you got that from me. Your mother has a pure heart, but her mind is simple.”

  The servants arrived with a huge assortment of food and more wine.

  “I still think that I need money to rule and there’s no better way to fill a treasury than a rousing military victory, General Horsten has told me.” Ali-Steven really hoped his father would go for this idea as his palms started to collect moisture.

  “Oh he has, has he?” his father asked as he slurred his speech.

  “Yes, and if I get this out of the way while I am prince, I can really concentrate on ruling when I become king, which will obviously be a long time from now. You’re going to live a great many more years, father. I don’t need to learn all of this now.” Ali-Steven played into his father’s vanity and pride.

  “I will teach you something about ruling right now.”

  Ali-Steven asked, “What’s that?”

  “When you are the king and you tell someone to do something, they do it. You’re not the king yet, no matter how much you think you already are. Until then, even a prince has to listen to his king and not argue a dead conversation.”

  “Yes, father.”

  His father grinned, “Damn right, shove that bowl of roasted beets over here.”

  “Yes, father.”

  Am I becoming one of his cronies who always agree with his decisions? I’m supposed to challenge him on bad decisions but I am afraid to.

  “There’s something else we need to discuss.” The King ripped some dark meat from a turkey leg and stuffed it into his mouth.

  He put down the leg, took a drink of his wine and wiped his mouth. Ali-Steven knew this must be important because his father never stopped eating to talk.

  “We need to talk about your duties to the realm. One of the most important duties is marrying the right bride. Your mother and I never even got to meet each other before the ceremony and look at how much we love each other. Just think, you’ll have an entire fortnight,” Ali-Baster told him.

  Sure, you two barely speak and when you do, it’s an argument. You just arrived at the castle with a coach full of whores. My mother is perfect and you are pure evil. That doesn’t sound like love to me.

  His father continued, “Sure, I would have loved to marry a more handsome woman, more intelligent mayhaps, but I performed my duty to the realm. Now the time has come for you to do the same. I’ve found a suitable bride for you. Parys Etburn is going to be your queen. Saw her just two years back, and you’re a lucky one. She’s got beauty and they say she’s extremely quick-witted. The Etburns are as close to royalty as any family can get. She’s a proper bride so why in all the hells aren’t you smiling, boy?”

  Ali-Steven spoke in an unexcited tone, “I’m happy, I just don’t like my marriage being arranged to someone I barely know. Father, do you believe in true love?”

  His father answered, “Stop clouding your head with those faeblor’s stories and poems. Straight to the Seven Hells with all the songs, too. True love, not in our kingdom. We all do our duty that we swore.”

  I never swore any oath. I am a prince by birth, but I never took any pledge to the realm. I promised during my war duty to never leave anyone behind, but that’s the only standing oath I have to answer to.

  “The wedding won’t be for another year so your mother has time to plan every last detail. You think you want to go back to war now. Just wait until you’re married, then you’ll want to run back to war. Your sister, Ali-Pari, carried out her duty and she writes about how happy she is with Tyus Etburn. If a girl can do it, so too can you. Don’t worry, you’re a prince. If you don’t like her, you can mash loins with whoever you wish regardless of birth standards, so long as they catch your eye. But you will always keep a proper wife. You have to understand there are expectations that a king or prince needs to live up to. Conquering lands and women is just one of the many items expected of us.” The King shoved his plate into the middle of the table, signaling he was finished.

  A serving girl ran up and grabbed the dish and replaced it with a warm, moist cloth.

&nbs
p; The King wiped his entire face as he spoke, “Don’t forget you’re being painted tomorrow.”

  Ali-Steven objected, “I don’t want to be painted.”

  His father laughed. “Luckily, I don’t give a good sard as to what you want or don’t. I never want to be painted or sit still while someone carves out a statue, but I do it anyway. I’ll let you in on another secret, this stuff helps.”

  He swirled the wine around in his chalice, spilling some, before he downed it all. Some of it missed his mouth and joined the assemblage of stains covering his chest.

  Suddenly, his father appeared uncomfortable and said, “We’ll talk later, son.”

  The King of Donegal scurried out the side door and Ali-Steven wondered why his father had left so abruptly until he heard a lovely woman’s voice and turned around to see his mother.

  Queen Tomeo Wamhoff was a tiny woman who carried amazing strength. Her golden hair was already starting to gray and her brilliant blue eyes had dulled over the years. Ali-Steven reasoned that it was due to her constant concern about a womanizing husband. Her freckled, bony body and dark complexion was a stark contrast to her husband’s pale, rotund figure.

  She said, “My son finally has a bride to call his own.”

  She smiled and sat down in the vacated chair of the King.

  He forced a smile that caused his mother to frown.

  She said, “My son, I can clearly see this match doesn’t make you happy.”

  “It’s not the match. I’ve only seen this girl twice in my life and the last time was over seven years ago. I don’t even know her. Father says she’s only coming in a fortnight before the ceremony,” Ali-Steven told his mother.

  A slight grin came over her face. “Consider yourself lucky. You’re complaining to someone who had seen your father a few times many years before our marriage. He was supposed to come see me the night before the wedding but he had too much to drink and forgot. I should have known that would be a precursor for the future. I basically saw him for the first time the following day as my father led me down the wedding walkway. I stood there and waited for him to extend his hand as tradition calls for, but he wouldn’t. He waited until I was about to cry and casually extended his hand and looked away. I wanted nothing more than to make a fist and punch his face, but I placed my hand in his and he’s been acting like he is better than me ever since.”