𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

1st Dimension

"I will not marry him, father," I argued. We were the royal family of the kingdom, and, therefore, the wealthiest, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was just after breakfast, and my parents were sat in the common area of the castle, informing me of my arranged marriage that they had kept secret from me my entire life. The boy's name was Julian, and his father and mine were long time acquaintances before his father passed away. Recently, his mother fell ill to a sickness and also met her demise. No longer was there a lady of his house, a title that completed a family, and --alas -- my father so suddenly brought up the promise that was made more than two decades ago.

"I promised him his son would have your hand in marriage," my father, the king, said sternly, "and you shall fulfill that promise."

"If you so wished him in the family, you should have promised your own hand," I retorted bitterly, a gasp escaping my mother's lips.

"I will not accept that sort of insult from you," my father stood up from his velvet chair, a replica of his in the throne room.

"And I will not accept the name of 'Lady Casablancas'!" I said with disgust, "He's a peasant, father!"

He looked disgusted and hurt by my last statement, "His father was a noble man who was gone too soon, so he and his mother fell on hard times. I regret not helping them when I could, but I never brought you up to look down onto others. That boy deserves the title of royalty more than you." I gulped. I wasn't judgmental, but the nasty words had slipped in my fit of anger, finding his status to be the only thing I could point as a fault. My father's face suddenly softened with worry as my mother stood. "Julian, my boy!" he said, rushing towards the hallway entrance behind me. My words were caught in my throat as my gaze contorted to that of guilt that Julian had heard me, my eyes trailing down to the burgundy rug beneath my feet.

"Eyes and teeth, sweetie," my mother whispered with an exaggerated forced smile as she grasped my shoulders and spun me around. I was shocked to find a very handsome man staring back at me. His hair was scraggly and tussled, his lips pouty, and, though his eyes showed wear of hard labor, they were large and beautifully haunting. He gaped at me before gulping and snapping out of our gaze, remembering there were others in the room.

"Princess. My queen," he bowed, greeting us. His shirt was that of maybe two sizes too large for him, his pants had tears at the knee, and his black leather shoes were scuffed so much you couldn't see the faintest glimmer of a shine.

"Oh, Julian, you don't have to," my mother smiled with adoration at the boy's etiquette as she released my shoulders. Julian immediately looked up and stood straight as if embarrassed with the uncertainty of his manners. My mother turned to me, "Your father and I invited Julian for you two to be acquainted." She raised her eyebrows at me, the fake smile plastering itself back onto her red lips as if silently urging me to also fake my excitement for the situation at hand. I took the hint and tensed me cheeks into an awkward expression.

"I did you the favor of having you two meet before your wedding tomorrow," my father said, the smile on his face from Julian's arrival dropping as he laid eyes on me.

"Tomorrow?" I turned to my mother, hoping she would at least understand my point of view. She forced a near chuckle as if pretending I was being jokingly dramatic. She gave me a light kiss on the cheek before she walked over to place her hand on father's arm as they left the room.

"You don't, in the slightest, seem shocked by any of this," I looked at him curiously before my face fell, squinting in suspicion at the boy in front of me, "Did you know about this?" He nodded with apprehension at my reaction.