Writer Games: Royals

QUARTERFINALS: Demetrius Pelei

"The king need's to see you," says Sierra. I look at her. Her face is grim. Her eyes are focused on the ground as she twirls a strand of red hair on her finger. This is the total opposite of her normal overly bubbly personality. "Now, Mr. Pelei." I run over to the nightstand and grab the velvet box. I slip it into my back pocket. I step out of my room closing the door behind me.

"What for?"

"He has some minor issues he needs to sort our with you." My heart pounds against my ribs as we walk down the hall. We turn the corner and I see the familiar blank space on the wall. "Go on in." Sierra holds the Study door open for me. I enter. A cold sweat breaks out on my back. I tug on the collar of my button down. The desk chair is spun around so I can't see who's in it, but the gold crown, poking out, gives the person away.

"Sit down, boy," barks King Milton. I plop myself down in the wooden chair across from him. He spins around. My jaw drops, but I quickly close it. The King looks nothing like I pictured him to look like. I only got a glimpse of him at breakfast, but he was in fancy royal clothes. The man in front of me could pass as any Two with his grey, pinstriped suit, and purple tie with the griffin of Illéa in the middle. The only odd thing is the crown on his head. "There have been some issues concerning my daughter, Princess Jessamine."

I swallow.

"Do you think you have an idea of what the problem could be?"

"No sir, if there had been any problems she would have told me, sir."

"Sir doesn't suit me, Mr. Pelei, it is Your Highness."

"Yes, Your Highness." A wicked grin appears on the king's face.

"Now, Demetrius, how are things going with you and my daughter?" he gets up from his chair and grabs the gold headed cane at his side. He starts to circle around my chair.

"Fine, your highness, great actually." I hope he didn't hear the tremble in my voice.

"Are you sure? Because there are some things that I am not too fond of." My heart sinks. I grip the armrests of the chair tighter. I watch my knuckles turn white. "Bit of a shock, is it? I thought you told me that Jessamine would tell you everything." He rubs his chin.

"Yes. She would." The king stops on my right, staring with his snake like eyes at me. "What is wrong, your highness? What is the problem?" The king's lips form a straight line.

"You, Demetrius. You are the problem." His tone is cold His words don't sink in; they stay hovering in the air as I try to process what he just said.

"Me? I- I am the problem?" I finally say. I jerk my body around and look straight at him. "Me?" I point to myself.

"Yes, it seems that you have been deemed unfit for the crown." He slurs his words. I arch my eyebrows.

"The crown? Your highness, I don't see what I've done wrong? I'm not trying to sound brash, or anything, but I just don't know," I ramble.

"Your manners are extremely poor. My wife was a Seven and she had better manners than you. Judging other competitors' body weight, preposterous. I bet you did not even get permission to take those photos around the castle."

"Belle, I mean, Jess said it was fine I-,"

"She's just the princess. I am the king and I don't remember giving you permission. Did it ever cross your mind that we want our lives private?"