The Raven

Sixteen

"I have arranged for Princess Elaina to visit next week," the queen says, placing her fork down upon the table and folding her hands before her. "She has eagerly accepted my invitation to spend the week within our palace."

Henry, entirely convinced that he has never even heard of this Princess Elaina before, glances up from his half-eaten dinner to study his mother's expression. Surely, she must have some ulterior motive; otherwise, she would not extend such an invitation. His mother had never been known for her gracious hosting skills. She can hardly stand interacting with her own family; how could she possibly enjoy engaging in small talk with a practical stranger?

When he does not verbally reply, Henry's mother takes the opportunity to continue, "I expect you to spend your time getting to know the princess while she is here. I am certain she will make a lovely bride for you."

The prince narrows his eyes at his mother, disgusted and unyieldingly resentful of her persistent interference in what he believes should be his decision. He should have known that this was what she was up to; all roads seem to always lead back to that blasted tradition. Henry leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, watching the annoyed twitching in his mother's face at his improper posture at the dining table. "Let me just..." he begins, his face contorting with his overpowering emotions as he struggles to maintain his collected temperament. "First, you insist that I find a woman to marry, and now... now you believe that you have the right to choose for me?" he says, his anger surging within him without his consent.

Just like this marriage will apparently happen without his consent if his mother has any say in the matter.

Giving only a slight nod and showing no emotion on her face, the queen replies, "You are running out of time, Henry. This is tradition, and I will be forced to intervene if you refuse to choose a future queen."

If it were possible for steam to come out of Henry's ears, it surely would right now. He breathes deeply through his nose to contain his drastically growing negative emotions. It would do no good if he verbally attacked his mother. In fact, such an outburst would likely only prove that he is incapable of making adult decisions such as this one, giving her even more incentive to meddle in his affairs.

In a calm and level tone, the prince states, "I will be respectful to the princess during her stay, but I do not guarantee that I will choose to marry her. While you may be able to force me into spending time with her while she is here, I have made no agreement to fulfill any arrangement that you have conspired against my knowledge."

"Henry, the queen scolds before being rudely interrupted by her only son.

"I understand your concern, Mother," Henry's voice says, the irritation in his tone controlled to the best of his ability. "While I can appreciate your enthusiasm, your assistance is not required in the matter. I am certainly capable of choosing my own life partner, and I will inform you when I have found the one," he responds firmly, hoping that she will at least respect the fact that he did not oppose the idea of marriage altogether this time. In Henry's opinion, the ability to compromise is an incredibly useful tool for a future ruler.

The queen raises an eyebrow at him, clearly displaying her displeasure at his response. "I will give you one month, Henry," she finally submits, filling her son's chest with an immense sense of relief. "If you have not made a decision by then, I will choose for you," she adds with a tone of finality before excusing herself from the table and swiftly disappearing from the room.

The prince closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He is not sure how much longer he can deal with this. How long can he accept the pressure from his mother, the obligation to choose a wife? Everything is just so overwhelmingly taxing. If he plans to change tradition, he certainly needs to find a way to do it soon.

Henry's thoughts wander to the beautiful boy in the tower, his lips curving upward of their own volition. He wonders what it would be like to run his hands through Caleb's long black hair or to kiss his soft, pink lips. And those breathtaking crimson eyes, oh how Henry could look into those shining orbs forever. With the thoughts of Caleb swirling through his mind, a new determination sweeps over the prince--he will find a way to end this ridiculous tradition. Caleb will be the one to rule the country with him, not some overly-fluffed and pampered princess whom he could never even love, and certainly not one chosen by his mother.

No, he will find a way to marry Caleb instead. Henry can picture it already, the happy little life they could lead together. Filled with an abundance of love and joy and laughter, of children, and ruling a country together, of kisses and... Henry shakes his head. He is not prepared to follow that train of thought to the end of the line, not when he is not alone and definitely not in as public a place as the dining room. Embarrassment creeps into his face, his cheeks reddening as they fill with heat.

The prince attempts to finish his meal, hoping the food will take his mind off the... other things. It is a failing endeavor, however. Hastily, Henry removes himself from the table, walking speedily down the grand corridors of the castle until he reaches his bedroom. He locks himself inside, pressing his back against the wooden door and attempting to calm himself with some deep breathing. It does not work, though; the images he had accidentally mentally conjured in the dining room replay in his mind as if stuck on repeat, an endless, looping cycle of heated and arousing visions of the boy with the glowing red eyes. The aching stiffness within his pants is relentless, reacting strongly to the very idea of... those things that Henry finds far too embarrassing to admit aloud.

Perhaps he can sneak away and see Caleb today; maybe just being in the other boy's presence will soothe the searing feelings within him. Or perhaps simply laying eyes upon the object of his affection will just fan the flames and spread the fire; Henry cannot be certain. Either way, the prince will definitely need a cold shower to cease the fiery lust scorching through his veins.