His Royal Secret

Chapter One

Chapter One

I've always known I was different, not because of my background growing up as a Prince, but for the fact I admired boys instead of girls. How did I first know I was gay? Well while most boys growing up crushed on girls I found them repulsive. No offense to the female species, I only mean in a sexual way I disliked them, but while they all fell in love with the Cinderella or Princess' I always found myself attracted to the Prince Charming - no pun intended!

Of course no-one knows my secret, how could they? If I told my parents no doubt it would leak out to the public and not only would there be the possibility of being disowned by my parents and family, but also the nation too and I couldn't jeopardize - I wouldn't jeopardize that for my family who have worked so hard to be where they are now. A lot of people think that being part of the royal family you don’t do much apart from attend social occasions but that’s far from true, I’m always busy with something royal related.

Sometimes I wish I had a brother or sister so I could talk to them, relate to them, but I was an only child and therefore next in-line to the throne with only adults to guide me. I didn’t even have a best friend I could turn to. Sounds stupid that a Prince doesn’t have a best friend, sure I have plenty of friends but I never know who my true friends are and who want to sell a royal secret, so I keep my distance. You may say I’m still hiding in the closet, but what choice did I have?

I lay on my bed in my suite; I guess it wasn’t your average teenager’s room, much larger. However it included what you would expect to see, a large plasma TV and video games which I kept although hated playing, it just wasn’t my thing, I’d grown up in this room so didn’t think much about it these days. My latest (and only) butler/housekeeper Mrs Joyce, a lady with a heart too big for anyone’s shoes was like the fairy god mother out of a fairy-tale, she’d been working at the palace since I had been born so felt like a grandmother to me, one thing you should know about her was that she made the best scones I’d tasted, she’d promised to keep baking me them even though she was no longer working for us anymore.

Since we were a butler down Miss Hartley the palace keeper was in the midst of hiring a new butler, they had to go through a lot of processes since they would be working for royalty but I knew whoever ended up being chosen would be picked for all the right reasons so why I complain?

“Theodore” my mum called (calling her mother was too posh for my liking- ironic I know) she only called me by my full name either If I was in trouble, we had guests or a royal matter to attend to.

I pulled on some black jeans and navy polo shirt before walking out my room to meet my mum waiting in the corridor. I didn’t look too much like my mum except apparently we had the same nose, she had blonde hair which had begun to turn grey with age, blue eyes and a petite frame whereas I, like my dad had his brown eyes and big build. His black hair had already discoloured over the years so you would never had known its true colour, whereas I had inherited my grandfather’s rich chocolate hair which everyone wanted to ruffle. I mean I know my hair was slightly scruffy at the minute because I hadn’t had a haircut in a while but every time someone ruffled it up I felt like a dog, and a dog was something I didn’t particularly want to feel like.

“Are you listening to me? My mum said, I snapped out of whatever daze I was in and looked back at my rather annoyed mum, I shook my head apologetically and she sighed in frustration. “I don’t know where you are sometimes Theo, as I was saying Miss Hartley has found you a new butler. He will be arriving early tomorrow morning and I expect you to be on your best behaviour and show him the ropes of the palace, do you understand? I know normally we would get one of the other members of staff to show him the ropes but they are going to be busy with the Havendale lunch we’ve had planned since Christmas, so I’ll leave Mr Miller in your capable hands alright? I trust you” she said not giving my time to even answer before beginning to walk down the corridor filled with family portraits. If you were wondering, yes unfortunately there was one of me too. Earlier this year as part of my birthday turning eighteen I had been forced to sit in the same position for three hours while someone painted me, I mean with the technology now days you would have thought they’d taken a photo and painted from that, but my parents had wanted it to be as traditional for me as it had been for my great – great – great (you get the picture) grandparents.