The Prince's Secret | BxB ✓

Chapter 1: The Weight of Royalty

Dreary or perhaps ghastly? Which word better fits the bloody moment I find myself in? Life can feel like a parade of forced smiles and carefully crafted facades. Amidst the gilded halls of Buckingham Palace, I yearn for a happiness that evades me—an existence of freedom, perhaps. They call me Prince Alexander, but who am I really? Beneath the weight of duty and expectation, I am but a boy longing to break free. This life, this charade, what does it really bring us? Not happiness, that is certain.

"Prince Alexander," they say, "how poised he is a proper gentleman," and must make the girls fall head over heels for him, they say. If only they knew how wrong they were. Bloody politics and bloody royalty is what I say. So cold, so formal is my daily life. I dare not say how I feel or who I am, as I face the repercussions of my actions. A wrong smile, a misstep in diction, a word perhaps, could bring the monarchy into a frenzy. How malleable and fragile we are as a family.

"Prince Alexander, the once and future king; he will lead the people to greatness, a new era." Please, if only one of them discovered the real me, they would run for the hills—a gay royal ruler, pathetic, revolting, they would say. Even now, as progress comes to light every day, the palace still fosters a ghastly sense of oppressiveness and deep contempt.

I reminisce, alone in my room in Buckingham Palace, reflecting on our monarchy, our ruling. We are always alone, aren't we? We are royals after all; untouchable, different. I fail to notice my own private secretary coming to wake me up. We have that as royals. How haughty. I absolutely love my private secretary. His name is Anthony; he is my best friend, my confidant. He understands me and all of my troubles. He is the only one who knows me—the real me.

"Did you sleep well, Your Royal Highness?" Anthony asks. "I didn't sleep a wink, if I'm being honest, Anthony," I reply. "Lots to do today. You have breakfast with the king, a speech to make regarding foreign affairs with neighboring countries, and a charity event in the afternoon." Anthony's voice is enthusiastic.

"I'd much rather stay here and talk to you," I say, my voice still hoarse and tired from my lack of sleep. "I know. I'd much rather do that too, but you have duties to fulfill, I fear," he responds, his voice full of sympathy. "Off we go," I think to myself, through another dreary day in London.

"We must go; breakfast will be starting soon, Your Royal Highness," Anthony says, concern etched on his face as he contemplates my lack of sleep. "I've told you a million times, Anthony, you can call me Alexander, after all, we're friends, aren't we? I'm sick of the formal greetings," I say softly while looking at Anthony, who is laying my clothes on the bed.

"I know, sir, but it is something I must do. You are royalty—a royal prat, but nonetheless a royal," he says with a joking smile on his face, attempting to cheer me up.

"You bloody wanker! You can't talk to me like that!" I respond with a small laugh as I look at my private secretary softly smiling at his small victory. "Let's go," Anthony says, back to being serious again. Oh god, how am I going to bear this breakfast with my dad? All his expectations of me. He'll surely prattle on and on about the royal standard and the duty and honor that come with it. God, if only I could be free for one day.

"Good morning," my dad greets me, his voice devoid of any warmth. He surely only had me simply because he needed an heir. After mom died, everything changed. He used to be this great dad, but things change; people change. "Hello, father," I reply as I plop down on a chair, and Anthony dutifully stands by the door.

"So, are you prepared for your speech at 11?" my dad asks with authority, and I can just feel his expectations weighing on my shoulders. I briefly glance at Anthony, who sports a sympathetic smile, but it is gone in an instant. "Of course, father," I say with a saccharine smile painted perfectly on my face. I totally forgot about that until Anthony reminded me. You see, I've never been a very good public speaker. Yes, yes, I know what people would think if I told them that — "That's impossible; you're a prince, aren't you?" or "What kind of king will you be?" they would say, contempt dripping from their preppy voices full of malice.