Cursed

Prince Dominic

In the far left wing of the castle sat the counsel room. The long not so wide stonewalled space was where King Paul and his advisors met to discuss various topics pertaining to their portion of Fairland.

"I will not listen to those heathens!" the king said to his brother, the Grand Duke, Matthew of Kentwall as his son, Prince Dominic and the rest of his counsel looked on. The hot morning had melted into a thick and uncomfortable afternoon, and they were all ready to end this session.

Duke Matthew sighed, scratching his thin beard before he spoke. "I am saying this kindly. You will have to go to the Ministry of Legions in order to talk this through with the High Emperor and his counsel. It is the only way."

The king studied a particular note on one of the pieces of parchment that lay strewn before him then nodded. "Then I appoint you as regent in my stead, brother."

"You should both go," said the prince, speaking up for the first time in the two hours they had been in session. "I am more than capable of keeping things steady while you were away."

The king shook his head. "I don't think so, son."

Dominic stood up, hands firmly planted on the table, his dark hair framing each of his eyes. "Why not?" He straightened and moved his hair out of his face, keeping his expression firm and serious.

"As charming as you might think you may be, you are not level-headed," said the king.

"That is simply not true," said the prince.

"You're given to... flights of fancy at the best of times. Flying off toward whatever whim suits you."

Prince Dominic slumped back into his chair with a derisive laugh, his brows on his handsome face high. "You don't know me at all, father."

King Paul leaned forward, matching his expression. "I don't? You, taking months to find a bride all because you wanted to marry for love."

Leaning back in his chair to offset his father's encroachment, Dominic retorted, "There's nothing wrong with love."

"We have a kingdom to command!" King slammed his hand onto the hard oak table before him. "I presented you with princess after princess. You even had the audacity to turn down the High Emperor's daughter. Then you lay down for a common girl, a servant no less. You should be grateful I'm still welcome at the Ministry of Legions."

"My wife is high born," Dominic insisted. "She is not common." His father thought him a child, but he wasn't. He just had his own mind, and Dominic did not see anything wrong with that.

"That may be, my nephew, but even blood cannot save a child's noble graces when she is forced into a lifetime of servitude," said the Grand Duke. Blunt as ever, his dear uncle.

Dominic loved his wife, at least, he wanted to love his wife, and stand by the choices he'd made. Lately, however, things had grown unclear. His affections were beginning to subside, but he would never tell his father that. He would use it against him in some way. Take what little freedom he had away from him and attempt to control his every move. No, he had to stand by his choice. But he did wonder every night why he'd made it.

"The oath law states that you have the final say in your selection of a bride, but you are supposed to do right by your kingdom; just as I did, and your grandfather before me," said the king.

Dominic pressed his lips together. "Mother will be home very soon," he said, shifting the subject. Dominic could feel his skin burning with frustration, but he knew all too well that standing against his father was a bad idea. There was a reason the people feared their king.