Unchosen Crown | Original Version

FIRE AND GASOLINE

In the majestic palace meeting room, opulence was on full display, with luxurious furniture and sumptuous details showcasing the wealth and power of the monarchy. However, instead of discussing state affairs or relevant issues for the kingdom, I found myself distracted, scrolling through digital profiles of potential brides on an iPad.

The information about available princesses and duchesses was presented in a cold and clinical manner — nationality, physical characteristics, hobbies, lineage — turning my future into a simple consumer choice, as if I were shopping online. That methodical and formal atmosphere starkly contrasted with my deep discomfort at the idea of choosing a life partner like an item off a shelf.

Ian shot me a disapproving look, as if my reluctance to choose a wife in this manner were an insult to tradition and monarchy values. His stern and judgmental expression made me feel as if I were violating some sacred code just by considering having any say in this decision.

An oppressive feeling suffocated me, constantly reminding me of how far I had strayed from my own desires and aspirations. A year ago, I had moved to Paris in hopes of escaping royal expectations and finally connecting with people as an individual, not just as a prince.

But now, back to square one, I found myself immersed again in the tradition of arranged marriages, where spouses were treated as commodities to be negotiated. It was as if the invisible threads of royalty had pulled me back into a game I never wanted to play, a chessboard where I was just a piece to be moved according to the whims of the Crown.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I inquired in a more subdued tone:

"All of this seems so... absurd. Who compiled this information?"

The lawyer straightened in his chair, his demeanor laden with an almost palpable severity.

"These, Your Highness, are the most prominent candidates, carefully selected to meet the requirements of a future queen."

I furrowed my brow, feeling a wave of frustration growing within me.

"Requirements? You're treating me as if I were a machine, picking a spare part for an empty position."

Ian sighed, his impatience evident in the fingers tapping on the table.

"Prince Henry, you need to understand that your role goes far beyond your personal desires. You are the leader who will guide this nation toward its destiny. Your choices will affect the course of millions of lives." His eyes gleamed with an almost solemn intensity. "This is not just a secular tradition, it is the very essence of your responsibility as a future sovereign."

I took a deep breath, feeling increasingly overwhelmed by that reality. "Mr. Counselor, with all due respect, these are a series of absurd assertions!" I rolled my eyes, incredulous at such inflexibility. "It makes no sense to force me into a marriage simply because I must rule this country."

Ian narrowed his gaze, his composure on the verge of breaking. "As I said, Your Highness, your marriage is not just about you." His tone became more sober, incisive. "It's about the stability and future of the entire realm. You should know, since you were raised for it."

I felt fury boiling in my chest, and my eyes sparked with indignation.

"Know what, exactly?" My voice thundered, full of revolt. "That I should give up my own happiness for a duty imposed on me without my consent? That I should settle for a stranger in my life just because you say so?"

Ian raised a hand in a placating gesture. "Prince Henry, it's not me who's saying this, I'm just doing my job," Ian retorted, still with unwavering seriousness. "As royal counselor, my duty is to advise you and ensure that your decisions are in line with the best interests of the realm."