His Royal Highness ➼ m a r k

~Chapter 3~

Sorry, I got The Heir for Christmas and got caught up reading it. We'll just call it research, kay? ;) I also got The Amazing Book is Not on Fire and was too busy laughing at how adORABLE AND AWKWARD DAN AND PHIL ARE OMG

But this is, by far, my favorite of all my Youtuber fics, so it'll get special attention XD

Thanks for being so patient!

If you forgot where we left off here's a brief overview of the last chapter:

*in deep Tobuscus announce voice*
*(Y/n) leaves for the kingdom of Astac, still adamant that she will hate everything about the trip.
*She meets the other five "contestants" in the escort: a set of gossiping twins, an intimidating girl adorned in all black, a ray of sunshine, and a girl destined for regal greatness
*She steps out of the escort first, naturally drawing attention to herself.
*As she ascends the stairway to the Palace of Astac, she notices that she is the center of the Prince's attention

*****

You weren't the only one to notice. The news reporters scrambled over each other to get a good view of the Prince and who his gaze was one. Trying to conceal your confusion, you looked straight ahead at the king, who had the smallest smile. Once in front of him, you curtsied tentatively.

"U-uh...your majesty," You stammered. "I am Princess (Y/n) of Niabeth. It is an honor and a pleasure to be here."

"No, Miss (Y/n)," He answered with a strong yet tender voice. "The pleasure is all mine."

In your relief, you grinned at him. He lifted your hand to his lips and just barely kissed it before gesturing for you to stand off to the side, by the doors. The process was repeated for every girl, and by the time black nails lined up with the rest of you, your feet were sore and you were getting antsy. A man in a nice suit walked in from the crowd, sporting slick blonde hair and a blinding smile. He grabbed a microphone out of seemingly nowhere and looked straight at a camera.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am Felix Kjellberg, your go-to source for the scoop of Prince Mark's courting!" He proclaimed, getting a roar of approval from the crowd. "May I present to you, our suitors!"

It took all of your strength to not roll your eyes. Way to glorify a cluster of girls who were bound to go home anyway.

Shortly after the introduction, you were all ushered into the palace by a lady in a dark paisley pencil skirt and a white blouse. Not a single strand of her blonde hair went astray, and, according to the tone she presented the rules in, none of the suitors should be, either.

By the time you were showed your room, you were already exhausted. Two maids curtsied as you breezed past them, sharing a look as you plopped down on the bed, face down. "Uh, miss?" One of them asked in a thick Scottish accent. After a moment, you rolled over, the slick satin bedspread providing no traction for the skirt of your dress. Your bottom half fell on the floor, and you committed yourself to sitting there with your arms bent awkwardly behind you on the mattress.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm just wallowing around in my misery," You explained vaguely, blowing a strand of your hair out of your face. You would have to adjust your hair before joining the rest of the palace for dinner.

"Is there anything we could do to help?" Your other maid questioned timidly. You tried to brush her off without really moving your hand.

"No, I'm good," Leaning your head back, you shut your eyes. A knock on the door prevented you from slipping into any kind of deep thinking "Come in."

The door creaked open. "Um," your guest started with a laugh. "My lady?"

Instantly you snapped your head forward and glared daggers at the Prince in front of you. He was looking at you with an amused smirk and a playful glint in his warm brown eyes. His suit was perfectly buttoned and pressed, and its charcoal color made his hair seem even darker than usual, darker than the deepest night. He was breathtaking, and it made you want to kill him.

"What are you doing here?" You demanded icily, not bothering to stand. Mark took a large step closer to you and straightened his already flawless suit jacket.

"Well, I was hoping to welcome you warmly to my home, but it seems you're a little...irate," He explained carefully. "Are you homesick?"

"I don't want to be here," You answered, standing up and balling your fists.

"Subtle."

"Yeah?"

"As a punch to the face."

You cracked your knuckles. "With all due respect, your majesty, which, honestly, isn't much, the punching of your face sounds amazing."

Mark only let the corner of his mouth perk up for a moment as he exhaled in a short, silent chuckle. "Seems I have my work cut out for me with you."

"Glad that's so amusing to you," You muttered, crossing your arms and looking away. Mark turned to leave, pausing at the doorway to look back at you.

"I'll have someone fetch you for dinner. I certainly hope you're better adjusted by then." He slowly eased the door shut. "Until next time, Lady (Y/n)."

Your maids were cowering away from you, as if you would explode and blow them to bits if bothered. It was clear the Prince actually enjoyed you, so being sent home soon wasn't exactly an option. You weren't sure what made you feel more ill: the thought of staying in this palace with the wretched Prince, or hearing him flirt with one of the twins on the other side of the wall.