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[Not Another Cinderella Story Masterlist] • [Membership Stories]
The soft sound of rain falling outside of Richard’s bedroom window brought him peace. He had spent most of his day writing and practising his speech, staring at his reflection to make sure he wasn’t making any funny faces as he tried to remember the words.
It was all far from being perfect, but it would have to do. According to Jon, he would be able to film several takes, so he was counting on it to nail the perfect version of himself on camera. Of course nailing that perfect version required him to look the part, and according to his mother, he was not doing a good job at that.
“I don’t see what’s the problem with my suit,” Richard said, staring at the sleeves of his dark blue jacket. “It’s not wrinkled. It’s a good colour. And it fits me well.”
“All of that may be true, but you already wore this it.”
“I still don’t see the problem.”
His mother let out a dramatic sigh as she paced around the room. She clutched the pearl necklace, muttering under her breath words Richard could not make out. He turned to face his reflection again, satisfied with what he saw.
The man in the mirror wasn’t very different from the one that used to live in New York City. He wore impeccable suits, styled his hair, and even bothered to add cufflinks to his jacket. They also shared the same deep brown eyes and dark hair, but his reflection lacked the stubble Richard often had when he didn’t have to worry too much about his appearance. Here, a stubble wasn’t a sign of royalty. It was a sign of sloppiness.
Richard didn’t like it. It made him appear softer than how he felt. Maybe his stubble was his armour.
“Is it possible for us to get a new suit?” his mother asked the other person in the room, hopeful.
Jon blinked, returning from whatever trance he was in, and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Your Majesty.”
“Well, add that to the list of things Richard needs to get done.” She turned to face Richard, glancing at him through his reflection. “And why did you only bring one good suit? You’ve already worn this on camera once! People will talk about how you’re wearing the same suit again, and that will be our downfall.”
“I’m sure it would take more than me wearing the same suit on camera for the monarchy of Tudal to collapse, mother. For instance—”
“If you think,” she pointed an accusatory finger at Richard, fuming, “I am going to let you sabotage your ascension to the throne, you are mistaken! You are not escaping your duty as Tudal’s next King.” Her eyes jumped the crumbled paper on Richard’s hand, and she snapped it away. “Let me see what kind of speech you have prepared for today’s announcement.”
Richard glanced at Jon who shook his head, gesturing to him that it was useless to pursue this any further. As much as Richard understood his mother’s concerns, she was misguided. He didn’t want to be King, but he would never shame his family’s name, he would never run away from his duties to Tudal. He was lacking in everything regarding royal life, but he was willing to learn. It would be so much easier to run away, to pretend this visit had been short, to never return to Tudal. The truth was, no one was stopping him from doing that. Only his foolish devotion to his family and his desire to serve this country.
His mother stopped and looked at Richard, returning him the paper. “It’s not bad,” she said, clearly unamused. “But it lacks… flourish.”
“Flourish?” Richard chuckled. “I think it’s a speech that reflects who I am, mother. More importantly, it’s a speech that gets to the point of our goal, which is to announce the ball.”
“You are correct.” His mother sighed and kept her gaze on him. “Why a masquerade ball? How will the single women of Tudal be able to know who you are if you have your face covered with a mask? I do not support this decision. We will make this a regular ball.”
“This will be a masquerade ball, mother,” Richard said, not looking away. “I won’t budge on that. I will let you do all the planning for it since I’m sure you would enjoy being on top of everything, but you will have to compromise with me on this, otherwise, there is no ball.”
She pouted, clutching her pearls again. “But the women, Richard! And you’re planning on inviting other gentlemen as well? This is no longer an exclusive ball!”
“Exactly.” Richard smiled, happy that his mother was putting the pieces together. “This is as much of a ball to me as it is for the people of Tudal. I am the heir to the throne now, and I would like to get to know the people I will be serving as best as I can. Isn’t that what a monarch should do?”
“A monarch rules over people.” His mother curled her fingers into fists and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I do not know how to tell you this, Richard, but opening the palace walls to commoners is not the best way to go about finding you a wife.”
“You said my wife has to be Tudalian.”
“I said that, yes. But I wasn’t referring to all of Tudal. I was referring to the crème de la crème, the ones who are friends of friends and who happen to be beautiful and well-accomplished women.”
“Since I don’t want to marry a royal, you want me to marry someone rich.”
“Precisely.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “So once you step onto that stand, you will do your speech and say that you will throw a ball and all eligible candidates will receive an invitation to attend.”
Richard crossed his arms and stopped near his bedroom window. The rain kept on falling, small drops greeting the window glass and sliding down, joining one another or leaving a smaller trail behind. Richard would much rather stay here and watch raindrops race one another to the bottom of the window than do a speech for a ball he clearly had no control over. This was his introduction to Tudal as their future King. Shouldn’t he stand his ground and showcase what kind of King he wanted to be?
“I won’t do that,” he said.
“Richard—”
He lifted a hand. “This is my ball, mother. My introduction to society as the heir to the throne. People don’t like me already; they barely know me. I don’t wish to be a King who is hated by his people.” Richard turned to face his mother, serious. “I will invite all of the single women and men of Tudal to attend. I want to be among my people. If I cannot do so outside of these palace walls, then let me be among them in the comfort of this palace.” He fixed the collar of his suit jacket and looked out of the window one more time. “And I couldn’t care less if people talk about the fact that I am wearing a simple suit. I haven’t done anything for them that earns me the right to medals and I am not ostentatious enough to have multiple suits on hand at all times. I am but a simple man. One that will wear a crown one day.” He chuckled and murmured to himself, “Not that I have done anything to deserve that, either.”
Richard saved the crumbled piece of paper on the inner pocket of his jacket and lowered his head to his mother before heading out of his room.
“You seem to forget yourself, Richard,” his mother said, earning one glance from him. “This is not yours yet. Your father still rules. I am Queen.”
“I know.” He tightened the necktie around his neck. “I don’t forget even if I am oftentimes forgotten. And that argument won’t make me change my mind. Have a nice evening, mother. I shall see you tomorrow.”
Richard took a deep breath and exited his bedroom followed by Jon, who closed the door behind him. He picked up the pace as he climbed down the stairs, his heart jumping in his chest.
“How bad do you think I made it?” Richard asked Jon, his voice echoing in the tall ceilings of the staircase. “I’m sure if the Queen already hated me, she hates me more now.”
“I wouldn’t say she hates you,” Jon said, quickly catching up with Richard. “But she will certainly not let this die.”
Richard chuckled. “If this ends up backfiring on me, this will haunt me for the rest of my life. She will make sure of that.”
“She is merely worried about public perception. And considering how you are being perceived, she is worried that going outside the norm will only increase people’s dislike of you.”
“That’s very reassuring, Jon,” Richard said, sarcastically. “Tell me– and be honest, please– do you also share my mother’s opinion that a masquerade ball is a terrible idea?”
Richard spent a long time thinking about this. The idea of throwing a ball wasn’t terrible, but knowing that it was because of him made him conscious of his shortcomings. Not only that but the idea of a room full of people trying to talk to him and get his attention overwhelmed him. Richard always interacted best when at ease, not under pressure. Using a mask to conceal his identity would work in his favour. No one would know who he was and he could roam freely and chat with people without having to worry about whether his thoughts were good enough for what people expected of him.
Besides, that would allow Richard to chat with the women without them having any expectations of him. To them, Richard would be just like any other guest. If they were interested in him, that would show, not because he was a prince and the heir to the throne, but because they connected on some other level besides prestigious titles and physical appearance.
“I honestly think it was quite genius of you to think of that,” Jon said. Richard raised an eyebrow. “I am being honest. I think Tudal will love it.”
“Let’s hope they do.”
They entered the media room, and Richard already dreaded this place. It was quickly becoming his least favourite place in the palace. He would only step foot here if he was obligated to, otherwise, he would avoid it like the plague.
“Your Highness, Prince Richard,” Jon announced, throwing Richard off tracks. He was so unused to being the guest of honour anywhere, let alone being announced whenever he stepped into a room with other people, that this would take a while to get used to.
All around the room, people stopped their tasks to bow or curtsy at him, which was the most bizarre thing Richard ever witnessed.
“At ease,” he said right away. “And please, do not feel the need to bow or curtsy next time. I will not be offended if you don’t do it.” He smiled. “I’d much rather if you didn’t, actually.”
People exchanged concerned looks, but Richard didn’t pay too much attention to them. By tomorrow’s breakfast, his mother would be aware of this little stunt of his and she would speak his ear off about how protocol is put in place for the monarchy’s benefit and that ignoring it is just as bad as ignoring one’s duty to the crown.
Just thinking about it gave Richard a headache.
“This way.” Jon gestured to a small area with a vanity. At Richard’s confusion, he added, “They need to do your makeup to make you look better on camera. Since this is a recorded video, the lighting will be different.”
“You’re very informed.”
Jon nodded, pleased. “As your personal assistant, I take my duty of knowing everything they’ll do to you very seriously. This shouldn’t take long.”
Just as Jon had predicted, it didn’t take long. After cleaning his skin, a makeup artist applied some concealer under his eyes and on any blemishes he had, taking their time to blend it all out to make his skin tone more even. They explained all of the process to Richard, which was quite fascinating to him. It reminded him of painting and sketching, which was something he used to do a lot in his teen years, but then stopped when he went to college to study business. Seeing this much colour and brushes together made him want to buy an easel and return to that passion of his.
Because of their busy schedule, he didn’t have time to ask about the palettes with multiple colours nor the half spheres with pink, orange and red shimmering tones. They were pretty. It was quite tempting to rub his finger on it and swipe it on his arm. According to the makeup artist, doing that would be considered a swatch.
“You learn something new every day,” he said to Jon, who smiled at him. “What? Don’t tell me I am not allowed to be interested in these sorts of things.”
“I fully support it,” Jon said, patting his shoulder. “It’s nice to see you excited about something. I’ll write this down and then we’ll circle back to it once we have to choose your hobby.”
“Right.” Richard rolled his eyes. “I still have that on the agenda, don’t I?”
“Yup.” Jon nodded. “But now, you have a speech to pre-record, so you should get moving. I will be around, so if you need anything, whatever it is, just call my name.”
“I will.”
After meeting the camera operator and sound engineer, Richard met the director who gave him a brief rundown of how everything would work. He put Richard at ease, reassuring him that he would have as many takes as he’d like to get this done.
Once he felt confident enough, Richard walked to the stand, took the small piece of paper from his jacket’s inner pocket and unfolded it on the surface. The bright lights made it hard for him to spot the camera, not to mention how hot they were. The back of his neck was sweating already.
“Over here!” Someone waved their arm and Richard spotted a red dot next to them. “That’s right. Here’s where your focus should be.”
Richard nodded and cleared his throat, glancing at the paper on the stand and using his hands to smooth out its wrinkles. His handwriting was precise and defined, but right now, he wasn’t sure he could speak them into existence.
He would have to try at least. And if he failed, he would try again. Richard had to do this for himself. For his people. For Tudal. For his future wife.
It was strange to think of this future someone because Richard had no idea who she would be. He had never considered what he looked for in a partner, let alone what he looked for in someone to spend the rest of his life with.
He wasn’t even sure if there was anyone out there in Tudal who would be willing to appreciate him for who he was. As a Prince and future King, he was everything, but as Richard? He was nothing.
As he focused on the camera lens to record his first take, Richard wondered if the future Queen of Tudal was out there and if by some odd chance of faith, she would be willing to fall in love with him because of who he was and not because of everything else he had.
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