I hop off the saddle of my horse, handing off the reins to a staff member before turning to walk down the path from the stables through the courtyard to the castle. I adjust the lapels of my jacket as I walk, smiling politely at any other staff members I pass by. My father is the King of England, my mother the Queen, and I’m the heir to the throne. I’m 23 years old and ever since I turned 18, my parents (more specifically my father) have been nagging me about getting a wife and producing my own heir. But of course, when you’re a handsome prince like me, you are simply in no rush to be tied down.

I smile when I see my mother approaching me and stop to greet her. “Good afternoon, mother. You heading for a ride?” I ask, gesturing to the stables I’d just left. “No, not at the moment. I actually need to talk with you about something….rather important, darling,” She says, pressing her lips into a tight line. “Oh? What is this about?” I ask, slightly worried something has happened. She sighs, glancing around for a moment. “Your father is increasingly worried about your lack of….commitment, per say, and he’s in talks with surrounding kingdoms of any eligible princesses-” she speaks slowly and calmly, but I cut her off.

“Do not tell me he is thinking of an arranged marriage,” I scoff, narrowing my eyes.