(AU) King John Price

Political marriages were something that his father had warned John about from an early age. But as a young boy dreaming of silly fantasies like slaying dragons and becoming a king one day in the far future, love and marriage were as foreign terms to him as war and treaties. That was long before the plague took his father. It became more of a possibility when the traveler’s sickness stole his mother and sisters just years later, leaving an empty throne room and an even larger gaping chasm in Price’s chest.

Trade routes were thriving, the kingdom of Elderwyn was growing in population and it was finally a peaceful time. Bandits had been appeased for the foreseeable future, alliances had been set and Morhaven seemed begrudgingly content with the treaty recently signed. Now that there were no distractions, at least not more than usual, the advisors were beginning to turn their attention towards the obvious deficit in the royal family’s wing of the castle.

Price had been nagged time and time again about finding a queen, the need for an heir as he approached the age of 40 becoming more evident. He refused to take concubines, even turned down invitations to visit neighboring countries to discuss alliances and possible arrangements. Finally, after being worn down for months by the council, Price agreed to host a royal ball—an extravagant display of Elderwyn’s vitality and wealth where nobles from all over were invited, and much to the dismay of the council Price enforced that the people should meet their possible new queen as well.

The night was warm and smelling of roses from the gardens. The golden chandeliers hanging delicately shimmered with renewed warmth, and the lilted melody of the lutes and harps floating above the gathered crowd. Price had finished speaking to another princess—face painted in bright colors and a laugh too forced, eyes lingering on the rings Price wore—when he decided he needed fresh air.

He excused himself before making his way through the grand side doors that overlooked the Quadra Ocean, the same view where his own father had met his mother and eventually where he proposed to her. Price ran a hand over his hair with a heavy sigh, seating himself on the marble bench and resting his elbows on his knees. There was a growing loneliness in his chest where he longed for the chance to ask his father what to do in this moment, where he knew his mother would have reassured him that the right queen would come his way when she was ready.

“Bollocks,” he muttered sourly to himself, looking out at the moonlit waves crashing against the jagged cliffside below. “An old man like me, king or not, has more of a chance of being wed to a horse at this point than to a queen.”

Soft footsteps clicked against the granite behind him, and Price turned his head to see a young woman standing a small distance away. “I apologize my fair lady, as I assume you are approaching me for one sole intention. But I would like to not be disturbed right now.”

Political marriages were something that his father had warned John about from an early age. But as a young boy dreaming of silly fantasies like slaying dragons and becoming a king one day in the far future, love and marriage were as foreign terms to him as war and treaties. That was long before the plague took his father. It became more of a possibility when the traveler’s sickness stole his mother and sisters just years later, leaving an empty throne room and an even larger gaping chasm in Price’s chest.

Trade routes were thriving, the kingdom of Elderwyn was growing in population and it was finally a peaceful time. Bandits had been appeased for the foreseeable future, alliances had been set and Morhaven seemed begrudgingly content with the treaty recently signed. Now that there were no distractions, at least not more than usual, the advisors were beginning to turn their attention towards the obvious deficit in the royal family’s wing of the castle.

Price had been nagged time and time again about finding a queen, the need for an heir as he approached the age of 40 becoming more evident. He refused to take concubines, even turned down invitations to visit neighboring countries to discuss alliances and possible arrangements. Finally, after being worn down for months by the council, Price agreed to host a royal ball—an extravagant display of Elderwyn’s vitality and wealth where nobles from all over were invited, and much to the dismay of the council Price enforced that the people should meet their possible new queen as well.

The night was warm and smelling of roses from the gardens. The golden chandeliers hanging delicately shimmered with renewed warmth, and the lilted melody of the lutes and harps floating above the gathered crowd. Price had finished speaking to another princess—face painted in bright colors and a laugh too forced, eyes lingering on the rings Price wore—when he decided he needed fresh air.

He excused himself before making his way through the grand side doors that overlooked the Quadra Ocean, the same view where his own father had met his mother and eventually where he proposed to her. Price ran a hand over his hair with a heavy sigh, seating himself on the marble bench and resting his elbows on his knees. There was a growing loneliness in his chest where he longed for the chance to ask his father what to do in this moment, where he knew his mother would have reassured him that the right queen would come his way when she was ready.

“Bollocks,” he muttered sourly to himself, looking out at the moonlit waves crashing against the jagged cliffside below. “An old man like me, king or not, has more of a chance of being wed to a horse at this point than to a queen.”

Soft footsteps clicked against the granite behind him, and Price turned his head to see a young woman standing a small distance away. She was, in the most simple of terms, the most devastatingly beautiful woman Price had ever laid eyes on. He hadn’t realized he had been staring until she stepped to the side, and crimson stained his cheeks.

“Apologies, my lady, it’s just...” Price trailed off with an awkward chuckle. “...it is not often that I find myself speechless, nor in the presence of a goddess herself standing before me.”

He rose slowly so as to not startle her, bowing respectfully. “My name is King Price, but please—call me John.” He raised his head, blue eyes gleaming with a spark that had long been dimmed. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”