The duke's obsession with the three princes

Chapter 3: Cedric's Attempt

The following evening at the palace, the atmosphere crackled with tension as the royal family gathered once again for dinner. Cedric sat between his brothers at the long, ornately carved table, determined to maintain his composure in the face of Duke Alaric’s unwelcome attention. The incident from the previous night still lingered in the back of his mind, leaving him feeling small and vulnerable. He knew he had to assert himself, if only to rid himself of the duke’s insistent advances.

As the meal commenced, the usual banter filled the air, but Cedric could sense Alaric’s gaze lingering on him. The duke wore a smirk that sent a chill down Cedric’s spine. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he hoped would be a moment of courage.

“Your Grace,” Cedric said, his voice quivering slightly despite his best efforts to sound firm, “I would like to express my gratitude for your admiration. However, I believe it’s important for me to make it clear that I am not comfortable with the attention you’ve been giving me.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, a devilish grin creeping across his lips. “Uncomfortable? Oh, dear Cedric, that is hardly the reaction I expected from one as enchanting as you.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his gaze penetrating. “You have such potential to be adored, yet you shy away from it. Why?”

Cedric felt a flush rise to his cheeks, his courage wavering under the weight of the duke’s intense scrutiny. “I just… I believe that respect should come first. I—” he faltered, his voice shrinking to a whisper. “I want to be seen for who I am, not just as a pretty face.”

Alaric chuckled, clearly amused by Cedric’s struggle. “Oh, but you must understand, dear prince. You are more than a pretty face. You possess a beauty that is both innocent and alluring. Why not embrace it? You need not cower like a leaf in the wind.”

Cedric swallowed hard, his palms clammy as he clenched them beneath the table. “I’m not cowering,” he protested, though he could feel the truth of his statement slip away. “I just—”

“Just what?” Alaric pressed, his voice teasing, coaxing. “Afraid of disappointing me? Or perhaps, afraid of disappointing yourself?” He tilted his head, an almost predatory glint in his eyes, enjoying the prince’s evident discomfort.

Cedric’s heart raced, embarrassment washing over him. He glanced sideways at Alistair, who met his gaze with an encouraging nod. “Cedric, you’re doing fine. Just stand your ground,” he whispered, his tone calm and steady.

Taking a deep breath, Cedric attempted to summon the confidence he so desperately needed. “I want you to know that I appreciate your interest,” he began, forcing the words through his trembling lips. “But I would like to be treated with dignity. I—”

“Dignity?” Alaric interrupted, a laugh escaping him as he leaned even closer, invading Cedric’s personal space. “Oh, my dear Cedric, dignity is all well and good, but it pales in comparison to the thrill of attraction. Why hide behind formality when there’s so much joy to be found in indulgence?”

“I’m not hiding!” Cedric blurted, his voice rising slightly, only to realize how it might sound in the otherwise quiet room. He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation, but the duke’s smug expression only served to make him feel smaller. “I just don’t want to be objectified. I want to be taken seriously.”

Alaric leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, clearly relishing the struggle. “Taken seriously? My dear Cedric, it is precisely your youthful charm that makes you irresistible. You need not take everything so seriously. Life is meant to be enjoyed!”

At this point, Cedric felt like a leaf caught in a tempest, swirling around with no hope of finding stable ground. He could feel the laughter of the other guests hanging in the air, a mix of disbelief and amusement as they witnessed his faltering attempts to stand firm against Alaric’s advances.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to talk about something else?” Cedric offered weakly, desperate to shift the conversation. “The recent harvest? Or the upcoming festival?”

“Ah, but festivals come and go, while youthful beauty is a fleeting treasure!” Alaric said, a gleam of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Why waste this precious time discussing mundane topics when we could explore the depths of your charm together?”

Cedric’s resolve crumbled like a dried leaf beneath the weight of Alaric’s words, and he found himself at a loss. “I—I just… I don’t…” He glanced desperately at Damian, who smirked, clearly enjoying his brother's disarray.

“Cedric, just stop,” Damian interjected, trying to suppress a laugh. “You sound like a broken record. If the duke wants to admire you, let him—just remember, you can always escape to the library or something.”

“Or I could summon the guards,” Alistair added, crossing his arms, the embodiment of unyielding strength. “If the duke continues to make my brother uncomfortable, it will be my pleasure to remove him from the table.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Alaric replied, unabashed, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I find Cedric’s bashfulness quite endearing. It is like watching a flower bloom, albeit a bit more… fragile.”

Cedric sank in his chair, utterly defeated. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. “I just want to eat my dinner in peace,” he muttered, barely audible.

“Dinner in peace?” Alaric repeated, his laughter filling the room like a delightful melody. “You must know, dear Cedric, peace is seldom found in the presence of such undeniable allure. It calls for chaos!”

And with that, the duke leaned forward once more, an insatiable glint in his eye. Cedric, feeling like a leaf caught in a storm, knew he had a long way to go before he could truly stand up for himself—if he could even manage it at all.

As laughter echoed around the table, Cedric's discomfort settled like a weight in his chest. He was at the mercy of a duke who thrived on the very chaos he yearned to escape, and it seemed the battle for his own self-respect had only just begun.