Escape: A Royal Tom Holland Romance

Like Mother like Son

"Your son, Prince Thomas." A lady announced, curtsying to Queen Nicola as she hummed at her spotless vanity, positioning a jeweled necklace.

"Thank you." She replied, still fixated on the center jewel falling perfectly. "Thomas, what a surprise." She addressed him without turning from her mirror.

"I need to speak with you privately, mother." Tom darted his eyes about the room. He hadn't been in his mother's chambers for so long, it seemed. It was even more extravagant than he remembered, with a new glorious rug and sparkling crystal light fixture. Tom had never seen the gown she was now wearing, nor the necklace she was fiddling with. He shook it off, feeling distracted.

"Yes, of course." The queen dismissed her ladies with a short wave. "What is it, darling?"

Tom wanted to release the aggression he had been building up from the night before, but he kept his composure almost too well. The accusation came out almost nonchalant. "Princess Zendaya is under the impression we have been engaged the past six months and has received numerous affectionate letters written in my name. What do you know of this?"

Finally turning away from her reflection, the queen rose from her chair, smoothing her gown fondly as she stood. She faced him with a regretful frown, letting out a small sigh. "Darling, I'm sorry."

"Sorry? That you and father kept secrets from me concerning my life and rule?" Tom growled, feeling the deep cut of betrayal.

"We are desperate Thomas! He hasn't got much time—" A sob cut her off, and her hand clutched the dangling jewel around her neck.

"Why didn't you tell me, mother?"

"We thought we could fix it—we thought he would get better and you wouldn't have to marry so quickly—" Tom took her hands, seeing how shaken she was. She began to choke back her tears, failing miserably to regain any sort of composure. She mumbled on, clutching to Tom's clothes as she pulled him into a hug.

"How long?" Tom asked tentatively.

"No more than a couple of months. Your wedding is in a few weeks, and we'll be lucky if he is strong enough to attend. You don't know Thomas—he spends most of his time in bed now. The past few days have been so hard with all the events—"

"I know, I know. But I still can't believe you would have false love letters sent—"

Queen Nicola chuckled. "I wrote them. I know the way to a woman's heart."

"Well it's all for naught, she knows now—"

An ear-splitting gasp fell from her lips. "She knows?? Thomas! How did she respond—"

"She felt like a fool, mother, as anyone would. Don't worry, she said it was nothing to fret about." Tom shook his head.

"Oh dear, that means it is something to fret about! This could ruin everything!"

"What a shame, really. Maybe if I could choose my own bride or at least have some involvement these things wouldn't happen—"

She was starting to lose her patience. Her world was falling to bits. "Thomas, may I ask you candidly what your obsession is with choosing your own bride, hm? You know your place as a member of this royal family. Your kingdom needs you to marry Zendaya—your father and I need you to marry Zendaya—"

"What happens if I don't, mother?"

Her face paled, fear creeping over her like a thick fog. "You mustn't speak like that."

"But I am, and I want an answer from you!" Tom shouted, losing his head. He couldn't stand her beating around the bush.

"War." She whispered, playing with her fingers.