The Prince's Heart

The obvious choice

"You must get married."

Prince Max ignored the question and leisurely grabbed a small cracker with herbed whitefish from the serving tray. "And a good morning to you, mother." He said then popped the whole morsel into his mouth.

"Good morning." The Queen automatically replied and then sighed. "We are finally at peace and your hard fought campaigns against Chunesia. The country has known nothing but battle and conquest for a decade." 

Mother was on one her tirades again, the usual breakfast talk. The lecture wording changed up but it always started with: get married, stop fighting and now....

"You are a symbol of the country's prowess. Not only in strength, but in strong bonds of matrimony." The Queen continued, pausing to sip from the delicate horse-patterned cup when she needed a breather. 

Ah yes, now we're at the duty part of the lecture. The noose around Max's neck. A Prince always had to pay the price for his standing.

"You've been home and put this off for months." The Queen was correct. If Max had his way it would been for many more. 

The Queen rose her hand and a footman appeared, holding a small, gold embossed book. The book was simplistic. Large sheets of thick parchment folded in half and bound using a delicate navy ribbon. "I've asked your butler to compile this. Portraits of every eligible Prince, Princess, Duke and Duchess in the land. Pick one." 

Max scoffed. "They are not for my choosing, mother." 

"I believe you'll find they all are." The Queen countered.

Their nation of Hampud was indeed the most desirable. Plentiful sea access for maritime trade routes, a mountainous nation full of precious minerals for building and heating, breeder of the finest horseflesh in the land and strong military might made from protecting those three important chess pieces. 

Max had realized that by default he was as well the most desirable. While his name was heralded across the country as the strong protector of the nation, other countries cared not a wit for his might. He was merely a pawn. 

"Pick one." The Queen repeated herself. Not used to doing so, she leveled her steely glance at Prince Max again. He couldn't help but fold under might. 

"I'll get to it." Max said and grabbed the book, only intending to end the lecture. 

"Now." The Queen's commanded. Decades of steely rule without a King had sharpened her voice to the point of a broadsword. Deadly to those who she was aiming at. Prince Max was now forced to deal with her weapon of choice. 

Still he hesitated. His mother was Queen and he did adore her, but marriage wasn't anything he was planning on entering into. Maybe eventually. One day. Or maybe never.

His mother dropped her head and for once looked all her years and sighed, "You're thirty years old. You've put it off long enough, Maximilian." 

Max always devoted to his mother, regrettably sat down and flipped through. Awkward photos of unfortunate or angry royalty assaulted his eyes. He barely stopped himself from wincing. Until he stumbled upon one portrait. Surely this was a mistake, such a soft young boy didn't look ready for the marriage mart. 

The elegant cursive scrawled below said: Prince Nat Natasitt. 21 years old.

"Such a pretty face..." Max mused unaware he said it out loud.

"So that's decided." The queen snatched the book from his hands. "I'll prepare the arrangements. Park, please note the man my son has chosen."

"I didn't---" 

"I believe you did." She softly patted him on the shoulder and added, "And a Queen's word is never wrong." Then strode out of the dining hall.

Leaving her decree and his sentence iron clad.

"I think that went rather well don't you think?" The Queen smiled looking at Lord Park, her closest aide. 

"How did you--?" 

"Manage to let my son chose my choice for him? Rather easily I'd say so." The Queen mother smiled and decided to confess her scheme. "I simply had our palace's artist copy the portraits of the land's Princes and Princesses whilst suggesting minor alterations to those I knew who were unsuitable. A mole here or a portly chin there. Then, I had the book bound to open and show Prince Nat's portrait in the most fine manner." 

The Queen continued, "The trade deal with West Nalia would've have been done either way, but I know Prince Nat's kindness and his beauty have been sung throughout the land. I also glanced an oil of him once and do think he is the most pleasant young man. My son's taste follows my own, so it was simply a matter of putting Prince Nat in front of him."

She paused and smiled. "As is our horsemanship heritage one knows you cannot break a stallion like my son, you must instead entice him to tame himself." 

Max stood in full Prince regalia, a navy waistcoat with blue horses embroidered on the shoulders and light blue breeches tucked into deep grey riding boots. He was waiting at the entrance of Castle Mandi, the main residence of the  Hampud royal family with the Queen mother and the rest of the royal household fanned around him. The ocean's winds gusting around him as he stood wait for his betrothed. His mother anxiously by his side, she stood in silence but Max could be feel her anticipation. She was enjoying this, her own son's misfortune. 

Shortly a parade of carriages rolled in front of his abode. Each gilded gig carried by a pack of grays. Such fine horseflesh they must've originated from Hampud. Max admired they at least had taste in that area. Out of one of the carriages a short man was let out who looked to be the King of West Nalia judging by his eleborate dressing. He quickly looked around then strode to carriage behind. 

Prince Max watched the King rapped on the door, it opened and then quickly shut again. Finally it was wrenched open and out stumbled a small frame surrounded by a fountain of baby pink fabric. As the vision got closer, Prince Max could see it was Prince Nat. He turned to his mother in question about the dress. 

She looked his way and winked. That sly fox of his mother had planned this. The dress had her signature scheming all over it. 

The closer the young Prince came, the more Max realized the portrait artist got his likeness all wrong. He was much more pale, his features much more fine, and those eyes were much larger than he'd ever seen. Max's breath caught in his chest.

When Prince Nat finally got all the way to the top of Castle Mandi's stairs, the King of West Nalia took a moment to wheeze. Max then realized how petite this little Prince was. Adorable. He started to smile, but knew that was unfitting of a Prince. 

Instead he pasted on the same look he gave his command charges, a militaristic group used to taking overs, a look that tried to be firm and direct. 

"Your highness." Prince Nat spoke. A soft and gentle voice. Max liked it. He also liked how the bodice of the dress showed off his delicate chest and defined shoulders. 

"Let's get married, shall we?" Max said, starting to warm to the union.