Imagine a big castle. Not a palace, a castle. Now imagine beautiful ballrooms, dining rooms, and halls. Think of extravagant bedrooms, living rooms, and studies. Picture a library bursting with ancient texts and modern dramas. Light flows through every window each morning, rain spills down the old, stone gargoyles, which stand atop the roof. Then picture a strong, fortified roof, with canons meant for arming the castle from the enemy. It sits atop a tall hill in the quaint kingdom of Armington. Around the shoppes, houses, and barns of Armington, layed the kingdoms of Pailvyn, Isaacton, and Nayre. Now, not all these were quite enemies, because their castles were not on the level of Armington, but the kingdom of Nayre had quite the worthy castle. Over generations the kings of Nayre had been attacking Armington, but had failed to overtake it. Not from lack of effort though, because every time they’d struck Armington so far, the people felt it. They had food shortage, lack of trading goods, and lack of able-bodied young. Now, think about how much effort it would take to run a kingdom like this. Then picture a young man. About 5’11, not a very unusual sight for you modern Americans. He had a stark jawline, blondish hair, and blue eyes. His limbs weren’t stalky, like most boys his age. He had real muscle. (trust me, it’s there. I promise.) His face was usually like stone, from years of being told not to smile. He tended to wear a lot of fancy clothes. Picture some old-style military uniform, only white. Then there’s occasionally a cape added on, or, if he was feeling modern that day, a crisp, dark blue ascot. Under that would be a waistcoat, and a collared shirt. On top of it all would be his shiny medallions. At this point you probably can already tell he’s somebody important. Might as well tell you the rest. His name is Prince Arkeington Charles Lot. He is sixteen and the heir to the kingdom of Armington. Think it’d be pretty great? Wrong. You see, Armington has some strangely strict rules that they believe create peace, serenity, and tradition. Like when the king turns 34 he has to have a child  and when he turns 50 his son takes his place. Now, most people probably think “Oh, so the king retires and lives at peace, right?” Wrong. They die. Now most people probably think “Oh, so their genetics have some freak gene where they die at 50?” Also wrong. They kill themselves. Sort of. See, when a king gets to the Second Age of Coming they get stripped from their title, they shave their beard, bless the people, and walk into the wilderness behind the kingdoms into no man's land. They aren’t allowed to come back or enter another kingdom. They’d die out there. And they’d be fine with it. They’d see it as a blessing and an honorable death. That was the problem. Arke was not like the other kings before him. He was a rebel inside, hating everything about their royalty system and the way our culture does things. Like, how he’s not allowed to see my father on normal occasions, not allowed to develop any feelings about him or get attached, and he’ll never be allowed to get married. Also, how he can’t smile in public unless he’s doing a blessing, can’t throw anyone in jail, doesn’t get to pick the mother of his child, and he’ll only be able to have one son. (he can have as many daughters as it takes) Arke thinks it’s crazily messed up that the people expect that from one person, but he’s the only prince who’s ever thought to question it. It was early on the day his father was dispersed from the kingdom and the day he became king, and he was not ready. See, remember it was mentioned how you can't get attached to your father and… well… Arke did. And he was incredibly sad about him leaving. It was too soon for him. Arke stood on the porch contemplating all that would go down that day. He knew that he would have to say goodbye to my father, Percivalious. He just didn’t want to accept it. Looking over the balcony, he spotted a pretty girl buying carrots in the market. She was always at the market, these days, and he loved gazing at her. Her elegantly golden hair had waves like the rolling hillsides; always visible yet ever so far away. _She looks amazing._ He thought, longing to look into her piercing green eyes.

“Sir!” A familiar voice shouted at him, breaking him out of his thoughts. “What are you doing out here?! You know you can’t be out here alone!” Arkeington wheeled around to find his servant, Jonasion, grimacing at him. _Ughhhhhh, all these rules are stupid! I’m on my own hecking balcony!_ He thought. But he didn’t say it out loud. “Sorry, I just needed some fresh air… I think.” That wasn’t true. Arke had just wanted to be without servants and bodyguards for two seconds. Jonasion frowned and raised one of his eyebrows. He gave Arke that, “I know you’re lying, but you’re royalty so I can’t confront you,” look and said, “okay, Your Majesty, come with me now.” Arke stole one last glance at the spot the girl had been standing. She was gone. He turned and walked off with Jonasion.   

 ONE HOUR LATER…

Arke looked out the enormous window behind the coronation balcony. His palms were sweaty and cold, and his heartbeat could’ve powered a rocket engine. He peered down below the overhang. There was a giant crowd, considering everyone in the kingdom had come to watch him replace his father.

 “Are you ready, Prince Arkeington?” One of his head servants questioned. Arke stared straight ahead. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He answered. And with that, he stepped onto the luxurious, decorated balcony. Almost thirty minutes of standing in front of the kingdom with his father later, the ceremony for his father was over. Arke tried to hold back his tears so hard that it felt like his eyes began to swell. He glanced at his father. He didn’t even care that he was abandoning his own son. Arke felt something inside of himself break. He knew he could never do this to someone. It felt like his whole being was being ripped in half. Imagine being torn in all different directions, feeling your heart break, and even your mind being incredibly distressed.

 “ARKEINGTON?” It was the third time the voice had addressed him. He heard it, but couldn’t bring himself to answer. He turned. It was the priest. Apparently, he had been asking him all the acceptance questions and was waiting for an answer. Arke blankly nodded. “Well then, it is done.” He placed the crown on Arkeington’s head. The crown felt like it was a hot and burning curse, ready to take over his life. Ready to capture his soul. He couldn’t take it. Arke thrashed it off his head, smashing it into one of the marble columns. 

“NO!” He yelled. He retaliated at the sound of his voice. He cut the air like a sword. “I WILL NOT LIVE THIS WAY! I’M THE KING NOW AND WE _WILL_ DO WHAT I SAY.” The priest looked horrified, like he was witnessing the prince kick adorable kittens. Arke’s blood in his veins felt red-hot. “I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU PEOPLE THINK. I’m DoInG tHiNgS mY wAy noW!!” He yelled, practically exploding. Grimacing, he turned and bolted into the ominous castle. Once he was in his room he stopped. He stood as still as a statue, feeling the hot tears rush down his face. He screamed in a blind fury of panic once he realized what he had done. _They’ll murder me! _He thought. Footsteps down the hall broke the silence. Arke swiveled his head. He broke out into a sprint. Arke was fast and bolted down the long hallways. He took a sharp turn into one of the tall turrets. Once he was all the way up the tower, he sat. Sighing, Arke took in the beautiful three-hundred-sixty degree view of his kingdom out of the large windows. Arke watched his father walk into no man's land to die. He felt a tear drop slide smoothly over his cheek. 

“I’m the end of this.”  He said, talking to the view. He made up his mind. “The people will never want an angry king, but I’m doing this for every prince after me.” He stood up, feeling his sore bones creak. Starting with his right foot, Arke walked down the steps of the tall tower, and noticed his new military esc. whites were tearstained and rumpled. _This is it. _He thought._ No more bottling up emotions. No more trying to be something I’m not. I’m King Arkeington Charles. _He stood tall as he entered the main ballroom. The “Disperse” celebrating citizens looked startled. They didn’t expect to see him there. Arkeington spoke.

“That was the end of this nonsense. Things will change.” He said as he walked over to the buffett of juicy meats and delicate fruits. People stared at him.  Arke sighed and let go of the memory of his father. _If he loved me, he would’ve broken me free. Good riddance. _He thought. Gripping a punch glass, he scooped the red, crystal clear liquid carefully inside. Arke brought it up to his lips. It was delicious, and he didn’t care if people were still pointing their fingers at him. His eyebrows shot up. The beautiful girl from the market was standing only ten feet away from him. This was his chance. Setting his cup down, Arke walked over to her. _I’ve never talked to any girls my age! _He realized a slight panic was setting in. _It’ll be fine. _Arke told himself. 

“Hello there,” he said, flashing a rizzy grin he didn’t know he had. Arke introduced himself. “I’m Arkeington, but I’m sure you already know that.”

“I’m Everly.” She blushed, keeping her head tilted to the ground, unable to look into his sparkling, shiny blue eyes. “But… you’re the prince. Why would you want to talk to me? I’m just a peasant.” He backed away. Just a peasant? _No,_ he thought, _not for long._

“Simple,” he said, moving closer. “I like you.” His cheeks burned red, realizing what he had said. Never in his life had he dreamed he would tell someone that.

“You do?” She looked somewhat relieved, but also embarrassed.

He smiled again. “I really do.” He winked, still blushing fiercely. “All my childhood I was governed: don’t talk, don’t love, don’t smile, read this, do that.” He grimaced. “I WILL be the last prince like that.” Everly looked at him, excited, nervous, and slightly uncomfortable. “It’s time to break the rules.” He said, taking her hand…

THE END