George
Back to the UK. I was in the dining room having dinner with my family. The long dining table gleamed beneath the chandeliers, the silverware lined as if perfection itself had been set on display. My family never did "casual." Even a private dinner at home was treated with the weight of ceremony.
The King—my father—sat at the head of the table, posture as regal as ever, his expression calm yet commanding. The Queen— my beloved mother, sat at his right, serene in her poise, the picture of grace. My two siblings filled the spaces between, voices overlapping, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses.
I sat across from my younger brother whom I'm just a year older than, who was already smirking at me like he knew something he shouldn't.
Why was he acting so weird now?
"Switzerland treated you well, I hope?" Father's voice cut through the chatter, directed firmly at me. His deep tone left no room for vague answers.
Being with father is the origin of developing a bold aura because he detest weak people. He always sees me as the type to challenge someone or a thing and he had it right, you know.
I set down my glass, nodding. "Yes, Father. Zürich was productive. The project's progressing faster than we anticipated. The university partners are… committed."
"Committed," he echoed, tapping his fork lightly against his plate. "Good. Commitment is the one thing the world seems to lack these days."
A subtle remark. A pointed one. My siblings glanced at me, one smirking, one curious. I bore it with silence.
Mother's voice followed, softer. "And you? How did you find your time there?"
Her eyes—gentle, probing—searched mine. She always saw more than she asked and I was anxious a bit for answering that question now.
I hesitated, my thumb brushing the rim of my glass. This was the moment. The moment to get it off my chest. The moment to let them know that I'm becoming responsible and sensible enough to man up.
"My time there was…" I paused, the weight of the truth pressing against my chest. "…different. It gave me clarity. Space to think. And I realized something I hadn't expected."
The table quieted. Everybody looking at me now as if I was going to confess something. Even the clinking of cutlery slowed. All eyes turned to me.
I took a deep breath to encourage myself as I await the words rolling out my tongue.
"I found someone," I said finally. And I knew how hard they'll try not to believe me. "Someone who makes me want to be more than the man you've known me to be."
The silence was deafening. I expected them to react—maybe say something or tease me like they used to but....silence? It made me feel like the world's best liar.
My brother's fork froze mid-air. My little sister's jaw dropped, then curved into the slowest, most wicked grin. Mother blinked once, her composure slipping into startled warmth. And Father… God, he won't believe those words just came out of me now. Father's eyes narrowed, studying me as if he was trying to decide if this was another one of my games.
Like I said, they all knew me to be a player and not the good type to explain things like this.
And now, I believe the only things dad should be asking me— or probably mom, would be: Is she from a noble home? Is she celibate or just the type that does the hanky-panky things? What does she looks like? Have you met her family? What kingdom is she from and blah blah blah.
"You?" my brother, Gabriel blurted, laughing. "You've what? Fallen in love? Since when?" You see why I said it's impossible for them to believe me.
It's difficult for them to see me this way— as the new responsible guy that I've become because relationship was never my thing.
I allowed a small smile on my lips. "Since her."
Gabriel rolled his eyes and shook his head in disapproval. "No. This is not the usual George that I know. Unbelievable."
My sister Alice leaned forward, chin propped on her hand. "Does she even know you exist beyond your… reputation?"
I didn't flinch. I answered right away. "She knows enough. And she's learning more every day."
Father finally spoke, slow and deliberate. "Is she aware of who you are? Because I believe women of these days are only attracted to men of this generation because of who they are and what they have."
The question sliced through the table like a blade. And right through me because I know the truth. Eloise was not that type of woman. In fact, she has never one day asked me what I do for a living or my occupation. I've always been the one throwing questions at her.
She's a sweet girl for goodness sake and I love her so much that it hurts.
I shook my head faintly. "Not fully. Not yet. But I'm making progress. She trusts me for who I am, not for what I represent. And that's rare… rarer than anything I've known."
I'll defend her anywhere. Even if it's front of the king of this great nation. King George Arthur I. For her, I'm not scared of anything. I'm only scared of losing her.
My mother Anabel curved her lips into a soft faint smile. My siblings whispered, trading amused glances. And Father—he leaned back, his gaze still fixed on me, unreadable.
"Progress," he murmured. "We'll see where that leads you. For now, remember: affection is easy. Responsibility is not."
I met his stare with steady resolve. "I know. And I've never been more ready for both."
The table remained hushed for a beat longer before conversation picked back up, but I felt it—the shift in the air. They didn't see me as the flirt, the reckless one, the prince of fleeting nights. Not tonight. Tonight, they saw the man who was finally choosing something greater.
Someone greater.
And though I hadn't said her name, her face lived behind every word.
----------
Later, I was sprawled across the bed, half-dressed, one arm folded under my head while the other held my phone above me. Her name sat at the top of my screen, the little chat window glowing, though she hadn't replied since earlier. A smile tugged at my lips anyway. Just seeing her words there had a way of easing me.
The door creaked open softly. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. "You don't knock anymore?"
"I gave birth to you," came my mother's calm reply, "I've earned the right."
I set the phone aside and sat up a little as she slipped in, closing the door behind her. She moved with that practiced grace of hers, years of court life distilled into every step, but there was something gentler in her face now—less queen, more mother.
"You were smiling inconsistently at dinner," she said, settling onto the armchair by the fire. Her eyes flicked knowingly to the phone I'd abandoned. "And now I see why."
I chuckled under my breath. "Guilty."
She tilted her head, studying me. "Tell me about her. This… woman who has my son smiling at his phone like a boy."
I leaned back against the headboard, rubbing the back of my neck. "She's not what you'd expect." I had to tell her that before she'd press forward with unprogrammed questions.
"Is she foreign?" she asked the least. "Or some kind of girl you bumped into here before travelling?"
For the record, I don't like British women and I don't see myself having one beside my future kingship throne. And the fact that Eloise was an African woman in the disguise of a Caucasian skin, I wanted her. I've always wanted an African woman but many never liked we European men.
"Yes," I said after a pause. "She's… African. Caucasian by skin, but raised there. Strong, grounded. Not royal blood. She's a businesswoman that majors in petroleum engineering. Her both parents are Africans too. A Nigerian father and a South African mother."
Mother's brows lifted slightly, though her expression softened almost immediately. "Not royal blood," she repeated, as though tasting the words. "Interesting. And refreshing. She must be an hardworking woman. Nice."
"Yes, she is very hardworking and committed. She doesn't care about any of this," I gestured vaguely at the opulent room, the palace itself. "She sees me, not the title. That's… rare."
Her lips curved faintly. "You sound convinced."
"I am." I must admit it is true.
She let silence linger, watching me with those sharp, searching eyes that saw through every lie I'd ever tried as a child. Finally, she leaned forward just a little. "If you're serious, my son, then listen to me carefully."
I straightened, bracing myself. "Okay?"
"Do not take from her what should be sacred until it is time," she said quietly but firmly. "No matter what your impulses tell you. If she is the one, if this love is true, you will honor her—and our traditions—by waiting until marriage. If you are serious—if you truly intend for her to be more than a passing infatuation—then you must honor her. Do not take her to bed. Not until she is your wife. Do you understand?"
Her words struck deeper than I expected. I swallowed, nodding once. "I understand. I would never disrespect her."
"And you agree?"
I didn't hesitate. "Yes. I won't hurt her. Not like that."
Her gaze softened then, pride flickering in her eyes. She rose, smoothing her gown as she walked over and pressed a kiss to the top of my head like she used to when I was younger.
"Good. Because if you fail her, you fail me. And you will fail yourself." she murmured. "Then perhaps this time, my restless boy has found something worth resting for."
She patted my head and I smiled.
When she left, I leaned back against the headboard, my phone buzzing again with her name on the screen. And this time, my smile was wider than before.