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[Not Another Cinderella Story Masterlist] • [Membership Stories]
Richard’s view of the palace gardens was probably the only enjoyable part of his current situation. After returning to his old room, he spent the vast majority of his evening and early hours of the day staring out the window. As much as he wanted to step outside, the cloudy sky urged him to stay inside. Tudal’s weather was unpredictable, but cloudy skies in the morning meant a rainy afternoon on the way.
He sighed and stepped back, taking in his surroundings. His bedroom in the royal palace was different from the one he had in his Manhattan apartment. Here, everything was dark wood, the walls covered in a decadent wallpaper with a flower and bird motif, something he had always despised. Richard would never be able to change it– he had to preserve history as best as possible– but the more he stared at it, the more he wanted to escape this place.
In his old apartment, the one that truly reflected his style and taste, everything was fresh and airy. Natural light spilled from the tall windows, giving the white walls and tall ceilings a bigger air than they had. He didn’t have furniture that didn’t suit him. Everything was purposeful, simple, elegant.
Here, everything was loud and jarring. This was his childhood bedroom and he barely recognised it. Nothing had changed, and yet, this wasn’t him anymore.
In the boredom of the early morning hours, Richard grabbed his small suitcase and dropped it on his bed, opening it to reveal its contents. When he was first informed he would be returning to Tudal, he didn’t think to pack too much. Some underwear, two suits, maybe four different shirts and ties, but that was it. He thought his visit would last a couple of days, maybe until the weekend, and then he would hop onto the private jet and fly back to New York.
Instead, he would never return to New York City. Not in his current predicament, at least.
If Richard travelled to New York again, it would probably be as the King of Tudal, and he couldn’t bring himself to accept that idea, that mere concept. Richard was anything but a King, and people’s perception of him only reflected that.
After addressing the nation the previous afternoon, the media articles and people’s posts started to pour in. They already had a title for him: The Forgotten Prince. Most people had no recollection of Richard. They knew he existed, but due to his lack of visibility in the public eye, they struggled to understand why he would be the next King. Does he even know anything about Tudal? How can he become our King if he doesn’t even live here? He can’t even address the nation properly. The throne should go to Princess Katherine instead. It was hard to read all of that, but Richard agreed with these people. They deserved a ruler who valued Tudal and who was willing to stand up with them in their concerns to make this country the best it could possibly be. They deserved someone who would work alongside them to make this their home.
How could Richard do that when Tudal had always felt the furthest thing from that to him?
A soft knock on his bedroom door brought him back to the task at hand. “Come on in,” he said to whoever it was, closing his suitcase and lifting it from his bed, putting it in one of the corners of his bedroom. One of the housekeepers assigned to him had suggested she would store those belongings for him, but that was a task he wanted to complete himself.
Just because he was back in the royal palace, it did not mean he had to become complacent to this lifestyle. He could unpack his suitcase just fine, he didn’t need someone to do it for him.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Jon peeked into his bedroom, glancing at his surroundings until he found Richard. “Ah, there you are. I went to look for you in the dining room, but I was informed you did not join your family for breakfast. I thought this was the best place to look for you, and I was not wrong.”
“Yes.” Richard gestured to Jon to step inside. “I decided to have breakfast by myself.”
“Did you have it here?” Jon closed the door behind him, holding a notebook with his other hand.
“No. I went into the kitchens and prepared it for myself.” Richard sat back on one of the loveseats and Jon joined him on the other.
“Already breaking protocol, I see,” Jon said, pursing his lips. “The Queen will not like to hear that.”
“The Queen doesn’t like to hear a lot of things. Especially if they relate or come from me.” Richard crossed his arms over his chest. “What brings you here, anyway?”
Jon adjusted himself on his seat, running a hand through his blond hair. He was wearing a navy blue suit, and a small pin with Tudal’s emblem on the lapel of his jacket. At Richard’s gaze, he adjusted the pin, smiling to himself.
“I am considered part of the staff now,” he said.
“How are you liking it?”
Jon shrugged. “It’s far more stressful than I remember it being. But you have more responsibilities now, and so do I, so it’s understandable.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Richard raised an eyebrow. “To fill me in on my new responsibilities?”
Just the thought made Richard nauseous.
“Yes.” Jon nodded, studying him carefully. “But duties aside, I wanted to ask you how you’re coping. Yesterday was tough. When I was informed of it, it was too late to let them know.”
“It’s alright.” It wasn’t. “I will have to get used to addressing the nation.”
“Still,” Jon continued, “we could’ve taken some precautions. Instead of live, we could have asked them to pre-record it. That would have helped with your anxiety.”
Richard looked away from Jon, focusing on the dark sky outside. His bedroom was growing gloomier, so he should turn the lights on soon.
Or he should change locations. He couldn’t stay in his bedroom forever. Eventually, he would have to leave.
“How bad was it?” he asked.
“Nothing we can’t control,” Jon said. “But most people believe you are not fit to rule.”
“They would be right.”
“You fumbled your words, Richard,” Jon said. “It is normal in your case.”
Richard looked at Jon, serious. “A King should not fumble his words. A King should always be put together, always at the ready, never terrified. You put me in the spotlight, you ruin any chance of me being taken seriously.”
“You have speech anxiety, yes,” Jon continued, “but that’s not the end of the world. Besides, you’re not King yet, which means you have time to improve and get better at this. I am in the process of finding you a coach to help you with this. In the meantime, I have requested that all of your televised speeches be pre-recorded and never live. And if they are to be live, you have to be informed, at least, three days in advance.”
“Did you tell them about not wanting someone to write my speeches?”
Jon nodded. “I did. You can write them yourself, but they need to be approved by competent people. I will handle that part of the process for you. Just worry about writing them.”
Richard nodded, satisfied. He was glad he had someone like Jon by his side. He was more than his personal assistant. He was an old friend. One that knew him like the palm of his hand.
“Thank you.” Richard smiled at Jon.
“Don’t thank me yet.” Jon cleared his throat and adjusted himself on the loveseat. “You have to make a speech to announce the ball. It has to be recorded by the end of today so it can be televised by tomorrow’s morning news.”
“I thought the Queen would handle that.”
“The Queen was advised to ask you to do it. After what happened yesterday, they think this could be a chance for you to redeem yourself.”
“What if I say no?” Richard asked. “Is the ball called off or would the Queen take matters into her own hands?”
“You know she will force you to do it.” Jon sighed.
“Yes.” Richard rolled his eyes. “I can imagine her with a gun to my head and everything. Very compelling imagery, I can tell you that.”
“I’m sure we don’t need to reach that extreme. I’m sure today should be more peaceful than yesterday. But then,” Jon let out a humourless chuckle, “then, the chaos begins.”
Great, Richard thought. My peace has officially ended. He knew that now that he had been announced as the heir to the throne his schedule would be packed with useless meetings and even more useless affairs, but he thought he would have a few days to adjust to his new title and the dread that came with it. Unfortunately, he could no longer escape any of this.
For better or worse, even if Richard had fumbled through the few words he had said to Tudal’s nation, he was the heir to the throne. He couldn’t go back on that. Now, he had to prove to them that he was worthy of becoming their King, even if deep down, Richard knew he would never live up to that. The best he could do for now was pretend he was. Eventually, they would see through his charades.
When that happened, it would be too late. Richard just wasn’t sure what that meant. Would it be too late for them to see him as a flawed human being? Or would it be too late for him to continue to believe himself as someone unworthy of the throne? Who was he lying to, anyway?
Richard got up from his loveseat, followed by Jon. He patted his friend’s shoulder and smiled, a gesture he would have to learn to do even when he wasn’t feeling like doing it.
“Lead the way,” Richard said. “It’s time to put this show into motion.”
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