The Frog

An Arranged Marriage

     Ambrose missed the song birds he would hear in the mornings at home. He didn't like how he was harassed by the sun rays stabbing at his eyelids, making the room far too hot for any type of covering. He missed the cool air slipping through the windows with the scent of lilac and pine clouding his senses.

     "God, I've only been away for one night," Ambrose thought to himself, embarrassed he was so homesick after such a small amount of time. To distract himself, he got up off the borrowed bed and slipped some clothes out of the bag he had brought along. He thought himself so clever, fooling King Alamon into letting him stay. Ambrose had made the excuse he packed the bag in case he would have to stop at a hotel, making sure to highlight how he couldn't go anywhere without being prepared for anything.

     After Ambrose finished his dressing, he fixed his hair and shuffled down the stairs for breakfast with King Alamon and his family. He'd hoped he didn't seem dismissive with his clothing choice, looking over himself in a mirror.

     "I'm sure it'll be fine." Ambrose muttered, still groaning with despair afterwards. "I look just as handsome as I did yesterday, I'm sure, nevermind the bags under my eyes."

     After a few moments of Ambrose fussing over himself in the mirror, ignoring the maids and butlers who passed him, he finally moved on for breakfast. It was only after his stomach growled for a whole of five seconds, screaming for him to find some sort of sustenance.

     Breakfast sped by, blueberry scones, pumpkin bread, cinnamon sugar, it all was gone before Ambrose could even blink, his stomach full and satisfied.

     "Thank you for allowing me to stay sir, breakfast was wonderful." Ambrose complimented King Alamon, despite knowing it was the cook who made this amazing breakfast. Ambrose knew it would please Alamon more if he was the one to be complimented rather than the real worker. He would have to thank the cook later, before he left for home again.

     "You're very welcome Ambrose." King Alamon smiled, impressed with the young man that had come all the way from Valorin. "Whenever you're ready, I will send someone to collect your things and your coachman will be called from the stables to take you home.

     Ambrose glanced at the king, thinking for a split moment that he had heard the man wrong. "In the stables you say?"

     King Alamos swallowed the food in his mouth. "Yes, why do you ask?"

     "I thought I misunderstood you, my apologies." Ambrose felt his blood boil. Why hadn't the king given his coachman a suitable bed as well? He had enough rooms, why not use them? It seemed quite unfair. "If it wouldn't be too much to ask, I'd like to go home now, my mother must be worried sick."

     "Oh yes of course, while you wait for your bags, I must ask you to wait in the parlor with my wife and daughter." The king stood, snapping for a worker to gather his bags.

     Ambrose wandered around a few halls, looking for the parlor. He refused to admit he'd forgotten where it was. Ambrose was quite a forgetful boy, since he was very young, his memory was not as efficient as his siblings or friends. What little amount of friends he had. He was too busy with his lessons and responsibilities to make more than a few friends. Thankfully though, as time went on, Ambrose's lessons were shortened as he mastered those subjects, resulting in making more friends with the freed time.

     It felt like an eternity before Ambrose finally found that damned parlor. "Good morning." Ambrose chirped, walking into the room. By the time he had, it was time for him to go.

     "Well whatever happened to you my dear?" Queen Lillian offered a small amount of tea. Ambrose gratefully accepted, bowing his head respectfully.