Fiction

Henry was glad no one could see the miserable expression on his face as he made it to Melan and rode out of the stables. 

Perhaps he should have listened to the doubt. The logical side of himself was trying to protect him while his heart was becoming greedy and chasing a fruitless dream. He wanted so badly to be in a mood to prove someone wrong but there was nothing to prove. 

No matter his title, he was a peasant. Even if he was given all the land in the world he couldn't help where he started nor could he help how he looked. 

All the times he corrected his speech so he would sound more eloquent or try to cover up his past, he couldn't hide who he was.