Nathan sighed, picking up the newspaper. Could the young prince do anything right in the media's eye? The headline blared: "Future King? Hmm…" They weren't exactly encouraging words. And there he was, the prince in question falling over drunk, his arm wrapped around a couple of barely legal girls wearing…well wearing nothing really. Nathan scanned the article quickly, snorting in disgust at the bill that the prince had amounted on a recent night out clubbing with friends: £10,000.
"Idiot," Nathan thought to himself. The look on the prince's face told him everything he needed to know. The young man looked thoroughly surprised by the paparazzi that had obviously been waiting for him to exit - and he'd certainly given them some good pictures.
He threw the paper to the floor in revulsion, not wanting to have to look at the pictures of the soon-to-be-king laughing and clearly drunk. Glancing at his handsome appearance in the mirror, Nathan straightened up desperately trying to smooth his hair at least a little bit. His mother Vi would be appalled at the state it was in.
"Nathan? Nate, you ready?" came a voice from further down the corridor. He glanced at his watch and realised he was running late. "I'll be one sec. Just go on without me!" He hollered to his brother, the voice who had just called him. Focusing his attention back on the mirror but away from his messy hair Nathan tied his tie quickly and tucked in his shirt tails. It would have to do. Rummaging through the cavernous wardrobe, he quickly found a matching pair of shoes and rammed them on, hopping about the room as he tried to tie the laces whilst standing on one leg. Ready, he was finally ready. The article had held him up a bit.
A knock came at the door. Nathan sighed; he really couldn't be bothered with this tonight. He wanted to just curl up and watch a football match in front of the TV. He knew it was pathetic and most of his so-called friends would laugh at him for it, but he really didn't like going out much. "Come in," he answered the knock after a quick glance around the room to make sure there was nothing embarrassing lying about.
"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt but you really must be going now sir," a porter informed him, bowing slightly. Groaning inwardly Nathan followed the porter out of the room and down the corridor to the car waiting for him.
"Here you go your majesty, have a nice evening," the porter said politely holding the door open for Nathan to enter.
"Thanks," Nathan muttered sliding into the car, already dreading the grilling the press were going to give him about his drunken performance the night before. He wasn't exactly a stereotypical heir to the throne.