It was a dark November with winds lashing out against the towers of the cold, stone castle and deadly snow that threatened to freeze all life in the kingdom. Prince Derrick Rastus paced the ebony floors of his room in frustration, his boiling blood almost making steam against the icy air. A suitor ball, how typical. How utterly and completely awful.
He was in an excellent mood this morning. He woke up in perfect serenity. So much, in fact, that he had expected birds to sing outside his window and sunlight to stream in onto his face. He had gotten up of his own accord and had dressed to his liking. Even to his own surprise, he was humming a little tune as he combed his dirty-blond hair. He was at peace and in his greatest state of mind, which you could hardly find these weary days.
A short knock and then the door flew open.
"Sir! I have urgent, most terrible news!" cried a voice, unmistakably belonging to his annoying butler. Prince Derrick pinched his nose. There went his greatest state of mind.
"What is it now, Loup?" he snaps.
"There has been another, er....incident," Mr. Loup informs, ducking his head as if avoiding an invisible blow. To most, this answer seems vague. To Derrick, however, the word 'incident' was all he needed to understand the problem.
"Tell the maids that they avoided punishment today, tell my father to join me at his table for a chat, and Loup?" the prince commanded.
"Yes?" Loup asked nervously.
"Do not. Ever Again," the prince said dangerously, "Come into my chambers. WITHOUT MY SAY SO."
"Y-Yes, sire," Mr. Loup, bowed.
"Go!" the prince huffed.
"Yes sire," Loup said quickly, hastily darting out of the prince's room. The prince, after rubbing his temples and hooking a sword to his waist, soon followed. However, Prince Derrick's destination was his father's knightly table, where he hoped his father was now waiting.
Prince Derrick's father, King Just Rastus, had agreed that Derrick needed a taste of kingly rule. In other words, his father threw all of the kingdom's predicaments onto his shoulders and expected him to find a solution to them. It put on a lot of stress, and, even though knowing his father's good intentions, the prince detested it like everything else.
The prince was not a personality people liked, nor was he as charming as his cousin in the west. At first glance, he would give off a kind appearance; one that drew you in and swooped you off your feet without hesitation. But then he would speak. That was one of the many flaws of the prince of the Kingdom of Mac Tíre: his snarky, snob attitude.
The prince did not give a second glance at the familiar hallways he thundered down. The dark, painted walls that bear paintings of his ancestors gave him no comfort in such a calamity. He double-checked his rights and lefts, assuring himself he was going the right way, but deep inside he knew exactly where he was heading.
He stopped when he faced the big ebony doors that lead to his father's table, and then, after small hesitation, flung the doors open in a fury.
"Son," his father greeted, "It's nice to see you on this fine morning." His father gestured to a nearby window, which revealed the deadly snowfall outside.
"Wolves!" Prince Derrick cried, ignoring the king, " The wolves! They have done it again!" His father dropped his hands and sighed, looking at the table.
"Son," his father grumbled in exasperation.
"I am not joking with you, father! I swear on my life that the wolves have something to do with these attacks! I swear!" the prince urged, "If not the wolves, then what? Father, you know I wish to dispel the wolves from our land, and I only need your permission to do it."
"Son, we can not dispel all of the beasts. Who would buy wolf fur from a wolf-less kingdom? How would we feed ourselves during the drastic winter without meat from the wolves?" the king reasoned, "It may not even be the wolves behind this attack. I heard word that the bites were human."
"Lies!" the prince accused.
Yes, wolves were everything in this kingdom. Their fur was sold for profit. Their meat was eaten throughout the year. Even the kingdom itself was named after the wolves in Irish.
Prince Derrick despises the beasts and wishes to kill off every single one of them. At a young age, he has learned to hunt just for that purpose. It was the dream his teenage self has never ceased dreaming. A desperate attempt to give back the sorrow that those animals have given to him years ago...
"Son, even if they were lies, I have something much more...newsworthy to tell you," the king stated.
"And what is this news?" the prince spat hatefully. However, the king was used to his son's distasteful ways.
"Tomorrow is your twenty-first birthday," the king informed.
"And?" the prince huffed.
"As tradition goes, I am hosting a suitor ball for you," King Just sighed, "I hope you realize that tomorrow is your last day of freedom."
That was a joke younger Derrick had played when his mother was still around. He thought, and still thinks, that marriage was binding and once a man was married, he would lose his freedom. It was no longer a joke in Derrick's mind, but more of a fact. A fact that he dreaded he would ever face.
But it seems his dread was not in vain.
"I am not going to get married," the prince growled, "I am not going to be bounded by some soulmate like destiny designed. I refuse!"
"Son, you know you can't go against fate. You are meeting your soulmate tomorrow at some time. Whether that be at the ball or during the day, it's final. You wouldn't understand the great feeling of having someone to love until you really feel it. But you are going to feel it. No doubts. No questions. No arguments."
"But what if I don't want a soulmate?" the prince asked.
"You'll get one anyway," the king pointed a finger at the prince, "And once you do, you will understand. Do not argue about what can not be helped. Now, do you want my words of wisdom or not?"
"Fine, tell me your oh-so-great advice," the prince said sarcastically. Honestly, he did want his father's advice, but he would never say that out loud.
"No matter how strange, no matter how different or unloving, love your soulmate and protect them," the king said sternly. Derrick scoffed.
"If they were unloving, why would I love them back?" he huffed.
"Because that would make you a hypocrite if you didn't."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Well, you can't hate someone who is unloving, because, well..."
"Are you saying that I am unloving, therefore I am not allowed to hate the unloving?"
" Well, yes, I suppose-"
"Shut up," the prince snarled before turning and marching towards the doors, " Like father like son."
His father sat there, stunned, as he watched his son slam the doors behind him.
It was now later in the evening, and the prince had stopped pacing his room.
Prince Derrick had stormed through the hallways and up the staircases until he found his safe haven: the attic. As a child, his mother would bring him up there to show him the many ancient artifacts of the Rastus family. He would look in awe at the neatly handcrafted swords of warriors and listen to his mother play sweet-sounding musical instruments of old. She had even taught him to play a few, though now, he barely touched the things. He only came here in times of need; it made him feel like a piece of his mother was still there to soothe him and rub his back in solace. Thoughts of her beautiful, kind green eyes overtook the stress in his head, as always. They drowned out worries of soulmates, wolves, and snow. He forgot of all formalities, sinking to his knees in the darkness.
It's not that Derrick despised soulmates. He actually did want one. But, with his ability to snap any moment and his ways of pushing people away, he just knew that his soulmate wouldn't want him back. Why want for someone who doesn't want you? He didn't believe in love at first sight or fast-beating hearts at a lover's touch or fate that brought two together. He didn't understand how two people could love each other forever and never stop or run out of love. He himself was afraid that if he ever received that kind of love, he would loose it.
In all honesty, he believed that he already had that love with his mother. He learned the hard way that love could be taken as much as it was given. He felt as if he had lost his chance, along with all of his love, as soon as he lost his mother. It was the reason he never looked into the mirror, so that his green eyes from his mother wouldn't remind him of her. It was the reason he vowed never to love again, so that he can not have it ripped from his heart.
But his twenty-first birthday gives him no choice but to break his vow.
But he dare not cry, for he has never shown such a sign of weakness.
And he never will.
After collecting himself, he decided to go to bed early. The sooner tomorrow came, the sooner it ends. He hoped that by some chance, he didn't get a soulmate.
But some part of his heart yearned to have one even more.
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