A/N: This chapter is slightly edited from the original version, but not too much. I have added some additional dialogue between Prince Edward and his Father. Other than that, it is pretty much like the original. Enjoy, no flames, and reviews are welcome.
CHAPTER THREE
The Prince came into the throne room, as was his custom, to greet his parents after a joust. "Mother," he addressed the Queen, "Father," he greeted the King. As he was prepared to bow to his Mother, the Queen held out her hands to her son. He came over; taking them in his bigger hands, then caught the female ruler's speculative look.
"All right, Mother," the Prince said, releasing her hands. "What is on your mind?"
The Queen smiled a benign smile as if to say, "nothing."
The Prince was not fooled for a moment; he waited patiently, his brown eyes measuring his mother's gold ones. At forty, the Queen still had a fiery temper and a mischievous streak a mile wide. She was the Queen of Intrigue; the Prince wondered why his Mother had chosen to marry his father and not gone into being a scribe working on the latest gossip parchment everyone seemed to be talking about.
His Mother still looked resplendent in her royal robes; they were a dark purple shade today, trimmed in white fur on the cuff and on the collar, which sat high on her neck. Her hair was a medium shade of red, and it was artfully arranged in an upsweep, with curling tendrils hanging down to her shoulders. The crown she wore was a simple gold one, with a single matching amethyst stone in the middle. His mother's face was round like his, though his lips were closer to his father's.
"You can't get around me, Mother," the Prince warned. "I know you are hatching something in that head of yours."
Behind the Queen, the King spoke up, saying, "Give it up, wife. Our son is too smart for us, and you were never good at hiding your emotions…at least not for very long."
The Queen regarded her husband, still entranced by his regal bearing, his straight brown hair, and his hazel eyes. He complemented her in every way. Where the Queen was outgoing, he was a little introverted; where she was mischievous, he was no prankster, but serious and straightforward. The Queen tended to ramble at times, particularly when she was caught in an embarrassing situation; the King tended to get right to the point.
One of the instances where they were of one accord was in their attire. Although they wore royal robes and crowns to identify themselves to their kingdom, they did not believe in the opulence which sometimes showed itself in the dress styles of royalty in other kingdoms. The King was, in fact, dressed in a very simple plain chocolate brown robe matching the Queen's style. His crown, like his wife's, was gold, with two stones in its center—one matching his clothes; the other the color of the primary hue of the kingdom's flag—red.
"I repeat, what is occurring that I should be aware of?" the Prince asked.
"Well, my son," the King said, turning to his son, "there is to be a festive gathering in your honor."
"In my honor?" the Prince repeated. "I have been on missions before…and also jousts and you have never celebrated them."
The Queen faltered, considering, "Well, son," she said, "you've never returned from jousting with the Prince of Benethia before. He is, they have said, a very formidable warrior, and you bested him with little effort. That alone is worth a celebration."
"Uh, huh…" the Prince said, waiting for the other boot to drop. "Why do I believe there is something more to this?"
"There is one more thing," the King responded. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder and asked, "Tell me, my son…have you given consideration to your future?"
"My…future?" Edward asked; then he answered confidently, "Of course I have!"
The Queen added, "What your Father is saying is: have you thought about your future as a Monarch?"
"Well, a little," Edward replied. "What has that got to do with anything?" he asked curiously.
"You are past the age to be married, considering that most people in our kingdom are wedded by the time they are eighteen," the King said.
"It is only almost two years…" the Prince complained. "Why all the urgency?"
"Because, dear," the Queen said, "in all of the other kingdoms, the royal sons and daughters are already married. It is unseemly for a royal heir to not have a wife! You are almost twenty, after all."
"Mother," the Prince argued, "I have not even been with a Princess yet. I have not practiced the art of courting or currying favor amongst Princesses or Duchesses."
"Hear us out, Edward," the King half-requested, half-commanded. "You need only whisper words of love into their ears, and most women fall into your waiting arms."
"It takes more than that, my dear," the Queen admonished, giving her husband a look. To the Prince, she advised, "Tell them about what you know of philosophy, literature, and the arts. Impress them with your intelligence…praise their looks also, as well as their intelligence."
"It is my understanding…" the Prince commented… "that most tittering females in search of marriage to a royal heir have no intelligence. All of that seems to fly out the window when they become enamored of good looks and a fortune that could choke a horse!" He paced as he said, "Besides, how am I to meet any females in our kingdom? Am I to waltz up to their parents and say, 'hello…I am Prince Edward John Henry the Third, and I am looking for a bride'?"
"Actually, we have a simpler method," the King said. "We have decided to throw at least three balls in rapid succession to give you adequate time to choose your bride." The Prince stopped and looked at his father with fear in his eyes.
"What?" Prince Edward cried, horrified. "I just admitted I was not ready to woo one female, let alone a whole herd of them! I shall be a laughingstock in my own kingdom if you force me to go through with this!"
"Nonsense, dear," the Queen replied airily, waving the Prince's protests away. "You will be educated in what to do by our greatest advisors and teachers. We're not having the event for another three weeks! You will be ready by then!"
"And if I do not find a wife?" the Prince asked, crossing his arms.
"Let me issue a choice," the King responded, staring at Edward. "Either you find your bride by the conclusion of the third event, or you will wed one of our choosing!"
"That is your final say, Father…Mother?" the Prince queried hotly.
Both the King and Queen nodded.
"So be it," the Prince said, "but when I have dishonored the kingdom with my lack of social graces"—he pointed to his chest for emphasis as he shouted his next words—"don't come running to me!" Edward stormed out of the throne room, heading toward the stables.
"That did not go well," the King muttered, looking at this wife. "Are you quite content, now? We have alienated our son!" the ruler complained.
"He will come around to our way of thinking," the Queen spoke with total confidence. "Once he sees the bevy of beauties we have and will choose for him, he cannot help but fall for one of them."
The King crossed to the window, staring outside at the Prince. "I hope so," the King murmured with less confidence than he tried to project.
XXXX
The Prince yelled out to the stable boy he had seen previously. "Bartholemew?" he called. "Where are you? I wish to ride immediately!"
As if on cue, the young boy emerged from the stables, the reins in his hand, leading a beige-colored mare. "Is there trouble in paradise?" the stable boy joked. Catching the Prince's withering glance, Bartholemew said, "Anything I can help with?"
"My parents wish to throw me a ball…" the Prince said, dejected. "Three, actually." He let Bartholemew help him onto the horse's back.
"And this upsets you because…?" Bartholemew asked, regarding the junior ruler.
"I don't know anything about charming a young maid," the Prince grumbled. "My forte is in jousting and sword playing! What care I about marriage? I am perfectly capable of ruling a kingdom on my own!"
The stable boy handed the reigns to the Prince as he said thoughtfully, "Perhaps you can rule on your own, but it may be advantageous to have the counsel of a wife in matters you are not an expert in."
"But I don't know how to dance with a maid, or talk to a maid, or kiss one…remember?" the Prince reminded the stable boy. "I might have seemed eager when we last talked, but in truth I am terrified!"
"You fear you will embarrass your parents," Bartholemew said knowingly, "and by extension, the kingdom."
"Yes," the Prince breathed, wondering again if the stable boy knew the thoughts of others.
"Do not be," Bartholemew said softly. "You will receive the proper training, and when the time comes, you will know what to do."
Prince Edward felt an overwhelming peace fall over him. He knew that the stable boy spoke the truth, and that, for some reason which the junior sovereign did not totally comprehend, he could trust Bartholemew's words. He also felt that he had a date with destiny, as if the stars had calculated this moment for many years and decided the significant path the Prince was due to embark on had to do with these balls. The royal heir thumped the sides of the horse and took off, riding across his lands.