WILLOCK 61

"Welcome the Duke of Vikings and his family," the official in charge of inviting visitors stated, and everyone aligned to greet us. We were almost the last to arrive; that's embarrassing, but I'm sure they should understand the journey. The thoughts of what happened had already left my youthful brain, and there was nothing I looked forward to more than seeing the princess again. She just clouded my brain, and it was as if everyone was waiting for us, as we were all directed to the staircase where the princess would make her grand entrance. I wonder how splendid she would look, I heard myself state.

I had slick shaved, just as I had done in Iraq. I hoped she liked me this way; I had a small head, so shaving was not something to affect my appearance. I still looked the same and cute. I feared that if I let my hair grow lengthy, someone would mistake me for a woman, but I made sure I kept my male and masculine nature dominant.

Everyone looked up as it was announced that she would come down. If there was a man nervous, it was I. I felt the same way I did when I approached her for a dance that night. And there she came, wearing a white gown, white stockings, and very white gloves, with some beige women hats. She was gorgeous, as I heard everyone exclaim. Now, I felt like the men in the room were competing with me, and I suddenly felt the feelings of rage and jealousy encompass me. They sure are undressing her and wondering what man I am to deserve the luck of this beauty.

She reached out to me, and as usual, I waited for her father's approval, and offered my hand so that I could take her to the dance floor. This would be the only chance any other man would have the opportunity to steal her from me and the only chance for men to dance with her. After she took my hand, I embraced the dance floor as other bachelors and spinsters joined me. The first song was a classical slow song, making it easy for us to speak.

"Did I tell you, you dumbfound many, my princess?" I started. I had never been formal with her. These were the styles men were supposed to court a girl with, but I courted her in my own style—first fights, then feelings, then hate between cousins, all that. I could see cousin William was still in the bachelor's line; hell, he will dance with her. I'm not liking that.

"What do you mean by many, my lord?" She asked, and I looked at her straight in her eyes. I sure knew I had missed one of the steps, judging by the way she smiled. "Hate dances?" she added.

"No, I—you, um... you are actually the first of the few women I have had chances to dance with," I stated. I just could never lie to her. Would she reject me knowing that I had not much experience in dances? I found myself questioning.

"Why? Don't men practice dances with many? Why am I special?" She asked. She always asked questions with bravery and full of knowledge. Maybe that's the reason I had a liking for her; she kind of intimidated me, making my urges of chasing. And she was a princess; who would not like a princess for a wife?

"Piano, I'm sure you know what I mean," I stated as we started shuffling partners. Dancing with another girl felt dreadful; I barely talked with them. I just wanted to dance and move on to the next. My left eye did nothing but observe who the princess was dancing with. She was with some man I had no idea I ever saw. She seemed in conversation with him, but of course, lacked the smile I gave her. Every time I shuffled partners, I was used to leaving the podium. I saw no point in dancing with a lady of no interest to me. I'm sure they knew how rare I was when it came to dances. I kept it aside for my woman, for the princess. She alone really made me feel full and whole.

The dances went on for a long time until I felt tired and left the podium. All I could do was watch the princess dance with other men. I hated it, especially in the thought that I had kissed another woman today. It just felt hard for me if she were to do the same thing. It sure would have killed me, of course.

"Lord William, Prince Harry here," one of Princess Diana's brothers approached, and I greeted him formally. "Sister is beautiful and dazzling," he added, and I just nodded and stated, "she sure is."

"I hear father gives you a chance to choose between leadership in Wales or Scotland," he stated, and I felt this was not the place to discuss these kinds of matters; it was a ceremony.

"I believe today is a ceremony, but since you ask. I am not quite sure of his majesty's intents; maybe he wishes to see his daughter in a better place," I stated.

"Can't you give her that in the Duke's?" He suddenly asked, his voice becoming heavy and random. "I'm just contemplating that the Duke has very good lands for inheritance."

"What is of matter?" I questioned, now observing him in his eyes. He was average height; I was slightly taller, just slightly.

"Nothing, I just doubt father's intents."

"His majesty's statements were never meant for me to take. But he requested it, as much as he would do for me and us, your sister and I. So instead of making confrontations with me, Prince Harry, I wish you would question him. Father would be glad if I stay and work at the Duke's, or maybe his majesty feels his children, whom he has raised, have never done anything to make them eligible to take his inheritance. I don't understand where your fear is coming from. You shall be the King of England after his departure."

"Father has a son older than me; he calls upon him, used to call upon him every time he was sick, hallucinating, or drunk. That just makes me uneasy," he stated, and I suddenly felt of interest. As I wanted to ask more, the princess approached us, and we kept quiet as I made her have a seat and asked for some drinks.

"Your brother seems uneasy with me," I told Princess Diana as I sat next to her.

"He just wishes he was the rightful heir to the kingdom."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Father usually changes his will depending on whoever he likes best. Now, he has a liking for you," she stated.

"For me?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes, you are Lady Isla's son, the person he has always been looking for, and above all, you have a liking for me."

"First of all, I don't just like you. I think I do really love you," I stated, then found myself continuing without even thinking when speaking, "In Iraq, my friend Ezron used to call me a crippled boy, and the prince of Iraq, Amir, he really tried hard to make me like his sisters."

"Oh, I feel honored."

"What about you? You had many acquaintances and potential bachelors. In the first place, my cousin William, the princes, the barons' sons—what is it? Why didn't you accept any of those?" I asked, wanting to hear her say that she was waiting for me. Hell, how much happiness would I have today.

"No, don't flatter yourself. I just needed to finish off some fashion embroidery clothing. It was not in me to deal with courtship at the moment," she stated, and I found myself raising my eyebrow in disappointment. Of course, I was acting up. I somehow became proud of her hearing that she did fashion. Princesses were taught much more complex things than a mere Duke's daughter. Oh, dearest sister, I found myself sighing after remembering how much I was stealing books in the library for sister to read, only for father to put restraining orders on me never to reach her. I still wonder what he thought of me when he did that.

"Can I see your fashions?" I found myself stating.

"No, I shall show you on our wedding night," she stated, making that sly smile. Her face was innocent, but God help me if I was already getting far ahead of myself in sight of her.

"You are beautiful," I found myself stating, and this time I knew it came out clear, like I had not thought about it. It was like something in my head that I kept pushing back. It's like telling someone you love 'I love you' out of the blue. Of course, she has always heard those words; any beautiful lady has. Maybe today she has been told by all those bachelors she had danced with, the bachelors who believe in fighting for a woman till the last minute. Since no one had really appeased her, and we were still together, I shall be engaged; I shall be with her.

"When, after... during... I mean, on the week after the day we marry, I wish to take you somewhere," I added. The stuttering was something I did when I was just not sure with my words. Not sure is quite huge, but in explanation, it is the dilemma where a person finds himself thinking about a future with someone, and then the point comes where he starts telling her about his wants and plans that includes her. It becomes difficult. The fear of those imaginations living to be nothing but...

"Where?" She asked, and hell, I was happy. She too thought about the wedding as much as I did; she too thought of marriage.

"Would you mind if I stated it is a surprise? I won't forget; I promise. It is somewhere I can't really speak about here. You will see; it is beautiful," I stated, and she just smiled. "I always missed the stuttering in your voice." She missed me, I found myself stating. I also did, all the time. She was the reason I never really laid anybody down until today. I hope one day I shall have the courage to tell her. She might be really angry, or is it wrong if I don't tell her? No, I shall tell her after marriage; at least she can't...

"I think of things, you and I…," I started. I wanted to ask her if it would be okay with her for me to sleep around, just to gain experience so that I can seduce her. I had the theory of everything; I had learned about the woman's body in every way. If touching is not enough, the tongue too can do wonders, and speaking to her, speaking to her, knowing if this and that is okay. But sometimes speaking when in view of each other's bodies seems difficult, especially with my stutter nature when nervous.

"What is it you think?" She asked, lowering her tone. It was like she perfectly understood what I was bringing up. I just could not ask her. Maybe Times Square was right in today's report when they stated, 'there is not a single failure that breaks a man more than that of a shy man trying to explain his inner urges to his counterpart. It is nerve-wracking, especially when of all women, she,, is the most gorgeous of all. Lord have mercy. Hail our men, hail our men.' And I just stated nothing as father approached me. People were already going home, and knowing I was to be the next son-in-law, I had to create a name for myself, especially in the presence of the King's guests. It was time to interact with my fellow men. That never made me nervous. Hell no! Men? Nervous? No, no. But for the princesses, it was always the princesses. It was always them.