Heartthrob of Aclea

Prologue

Paris - 3.00 am

'Shots, shots, shots!'

Putting my heart on the dance floor, my body swayed to the harsh beat of rock songs. Head banging, loud music, whiskey in my right hand. What could go wrong? On scale of royal disasters, this would have been the terribly biggest one, but who cares? It was not like the crown was going to ascend on my head.

I took another hard gulp, enough to dump me into a state of oblivion that seems to suppress my hunger for love. 'Drinks on me, mates!' I preached. Everyone in the room glared at me and I felt a flash of pride. 'Your Highness, aren't you in danger? You're here, all alone with no bodyguards, seems like a bad idea.' Ben shot a concerned look at me. He had a bald head and some piercings on his nose. There was a lion tattoo on his huge biceps that represented a striking feature of him.

'We can't invite some serious party pooper here! Nobody's here to kill me. I'm Aaron Bloody Armitage, the good, the bad, and the prepossessing!' To say I was a good prince or in the process of being a decent, down-to-earth King of Aclea was highly evitable. I was an unloved black sheep who happened to grow in a well-behaved family. Born as a second prince, I would not call it as divine intervention. I squeezed my eyes shut. Little brain cells. Butt out, family matters. You were not needed in the meantime! 'I need more shots' I snorted to the failure of pole dancing by some sexy strippers to balance themselves at the corner. With a blurry vision, I walked clumsily to the bar and stopped to three effortless taps on my shoulder.

'Your Highness, I'm afraid fun time is over.' Ethan dragged me to the corner of the bar. Beads of perspiration rolled down his well-shaved face. 'I believe fun time is just starting. Would you like to join me, Ethan? Couldn't hurt to take few drinks.' Influenced by me, Ethan lingered to reach out a glass shot. Wow! I was pretty sure the bartender had some kind of telepathic magic because he already prepared ten glasses as we spoke.

'How many fingers I am holding up?' I looked up at his fingers but I couldn't actually see them without ten binoculars. Talking about hyperbole.

'One and it must certainly be the middle finger, because its existence transpires for the reason of someone like you.'

'But I am holding it up to you. You are the reason, Aaron.'

'You must love me so much-'

And there went the reflex of having too much alcohol. I lowered my head and eventually threw up on Ethan's shoes. My goodness.

Drunk Aaron is the worst!

'Oh yeah, you smell like shit and now, it has spread to Ethan.' The sarcastic tone undeniably belonged to Elliot. The second version of Ethan, except he was moderately tanned and had glossy blonde hair that you would recognise from miles. Ethan's hair was brunette and his skin was warm beige. My best friends.

Also, my loyal shit cleaner.

'Your Highness, your presence is needed immediately in the palace to process Brian's coronation. Your sudden disappearance has woken up the lion inside your father's soul. It's literally a bad news for all of us. Get up, groom yourself and get your shit together, aight?' Serious Elliot mode was on. No cheerful smile or bro fists. Just a cold warning which bored me to the core. Usually, my bodyguards would call me by my name, not by my title. But when Elliot addressed me by my title, I could tell he might have been really pissed off.

Before I could utter a word, Ethan and Elliot had already rushed me out of the room, leaving all my fantasy crap behind. My half-empty glass of whiskey, the unfinished jamming of rock songs, and the sight of alluring strippers appreciating their bodies.

All gone. In a blink of an eye.