A story about a prince and his pretty consort presumptive.
Crown Prince Raffe, as the only son of High King Alizade and sole heir to the High Throne of the Ruemri Empire, is bound to fulfill one important duty for the crown. Even if that duty involv...
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SOREN FELT like the High King just slapped him. With a brick. On both sides of his face.
For a moment he just gaped at him, his fork that held a small bite-size cake froze midway to his mouth, not entirely registering his words.
What in the Twelve was he talking about?
Before he completely forgot his manners, grabbed the High King by his collar, and demanded the meaning of his words, the Crown Prince sputtered on his left and clenched his hand on a fork, pointing it upwards like he was going to skewer someone.
"What?" he demanded. Soren was almost relieved to see that Raffe's reaction was completely identical to his; incredulous, horrified, and hungry for a sensible explanation. Almost. That fellow feeling lasted a minute, right up until the moment Raffe opened his mouth again. "Rule together? With him? Him?" he said softly so that only the people around the table could hear.
High King Alizade gave Raffe a reproaching look and turned his gaze to him. Soren, for a moment, was frozen and was very sure that he had lost his mind when he saw the High King winked at him. And then he turned to look at his son again.
"Yes, him," the High King confirmed, much to Soren's horror.
Soren turned to his family for, he's not sure, support? To argue with the High King for this ridiculous idea? To tell him they were only jesting because there was no fucking way he was marrying that stubborn, confounding, temperamental boob. But all he got was silence. His father gave him an unreadable expression and Elefa, Aliya, and Malin all decided that the food was more interesting than what was going on. He suddenly felt betrayed.
They knew. He closed his eyes to compose himself. Aura, of course, they knew. He was contemplating his life choices when he realized High King Alizade was still speaking to the prince.
"Can't you see he's perfect for you?"
Ha. Perfect? Soren tried to calm the rising panic inside him. He would have been flattered to hear that High King Alizade thought he was perfect for something (or someone rather) if this was another situation. But it's not and he felt tortured at the moment.
"Don't you see the prospect of this and the good that it will do?"
"No," Raffe answered without hesitation and Soren had to agree with him on that.
"Well, we can always work that out," the king thoughtfully said. "You see, I've never seen someone cut you so beautifully that you wanted to hit something, Raffe. It was a refreshing delight, mind you, and I don't think anyone has had the nerve to treat you that way before."
Soren suddenly felt a faint sense of pleasure while Raffe looked scandalized.
"I am sorry, Father, but I am failing to see your point." He breathed deeply. When he was calmer, he said, "Are you seriously considering me and this nit—" he cleared his throat, and thought twice to continue his sentence, but Soren still glared at the back of his head while Raffe was looking directly at his father. "I mean, this match, to work out? I only personally see chaos and doom, believe me."
