His Royal Highness ➼ m a r k

~Chapter 1~

Today was a simple day.

No visiting countries, no galas or balls, and no need for ornate gowns. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, gently stroking the deep red fabric of your dress. It had off the shoulder sleeves that scrunched around your wrists, a slight v-neck and a bow at the pint of the collar. The dress was a pleasant change from your outfits of the previous weeks. After all, the king's birthday is never a small occasion.

The sweet smell of cinnamon and fruity pastries filled the corridor as you made your way to the dining hall. Guards nodded their heads to you as you passed, and you flashed each of them a brilliant smile. By the time you reached your destination, your cheeks hurt; there certainly were a lot of guards in the palace. The slight pain didn't stop your from from widening still as the delicious scent presented itself more potently in the hall.

Your heels clicked against the marble floor as you made your way to your seat, in between your two sisters. As usual, you were a tad late, having slept in a little longer than intended. Adela glanced at you through the corner of her eye, smirking lightly. Her older sister superiority practically radiated off of her. You knew she was just teasing your love of rest- after all, she didn't get it. She was a morning person.

On your left, your younger sister Veronica looked rather rough. She appeared to still be half asleep, with her chin resting on her hand and her dress rumpled. Her maids probably did her hair as they carted her to the hall, resulting in the few stray strands floating in front of her face.

Plates of steamy pastries and sweet berries were brought out. Your stomach grumbled loudly, and your mother looked at you with a soft smile. Finally, everyone was served and you could dig in. You were too occupied with your breakfast to realize the letter waiting next to your father's plate. He didn't bring it up until you were munching on your third pastry.

"Well, it seems I have received a birthday letter today," Your dad started in his regal voice. You looked up with wide eyes, flakes of frosting and crumbs dotting the corners of your mouth.

"Who's it from, Daddy?" Adela asked. You were intrigued as well, seeing as he only used his loud voice for gatherings and important news.

"Why, it's from the King of Astac," He answered after inspecting the paper. At the simple mention of Astac, Adela went into a dreamy stance, a romantic smile planted on her lips and her mind in space. Even Veronica brightened up, her eyes sparkling and the sleepiness gone. You, however, rolled your eyes and returned your attention to the most important thing here.

The food.

"And he's offering a gift to us. He wants a certain daughter of mine to court his son, who happens to be the most eligible bachelor in the area," Your father continued.

"Dad, cut it out with the games! Who does he want?" Veronica begged. She was hoping, praying it was her- you could see it.

The king laughed heartily and examined the paper once more. "Ah, yes. Congrats, (Y/n), you've been chosen."

You stopped mid-bite and dropped your treat on your plate. You? A suitor? "No."

"No?" Your mom asked, arching an eyebrow. Everyone's eyes were on you, and ready to fight you about this. Two sisters, two brothers, a mom and a dad against you. Perfect.

"Well, it's just...shouldn't Adela go?" You asked, trying to cover up your real reason for not wanting to go. "I mean, she's much prettier, plus, she's older. So why me?" Astac always was a turnoff for you. Sure, the kingdom was great and all, but it was home to one person that ruined it all for you. Prince Mark Edward Fischbach.

You've heard the gossiping of other girls at parties and gatherings about the batches of girls sent to his kingdom. Traditionally, only one girl would court a prince at a time, but Prince Mark was exceptionally hard to find a match for. Each group would be sent home quickly, and with little information as to why. About a month later, another flock was sent to be rejected.

"You've been chosen, darling," Your mother said gently. Her soft gaze met yours, hiding the challenge to disobey. You still saw it.

"As much as I'd love to take your place," Adela started, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin and trying to hide her disappointment, "I can't go uninvited."

"C'mon, (nickname)," Gregory butt in, leaning back in his chair. "Give your big brother a reason to start a war once I'm king."

"Gregory, a good king does not seek out a battle," Your dad warned. He got an eyeroll in return. "Now, (Y/n), you are aware what an honor it is to be chosen to court, especially if Prince Marcus is as handsome as you girls giggle about."

"Dad," Veronica whined, finally piping up. "It's just Mark."

"Can't I honorably refuse?"

"It'd be rude if you didn't accept," Simon piped up, your quiet, bookish twin. "Gregory wouldn't be the one starting the war if you were to refuse."

You groaned and put your head in your hands. "Don't make me do this."

"Honey, I think you know what we're going to say to that," Your father said. The note was now in Adela's hands as she hungrily drank in every word.

"Oh, we need to send in her gown size! Free dress, (Y/n)!" She gushed. You sighed, clearly unable to change the situation. You were going, and that was that. Slowly, you pushed your plate away. Your appetite was gone.