The day had arrived. Media outlets had camped out overnight, outside the grounds in anticipation. Word had been passed around that heir to the throne, Oakley Knightsbright, was planning to propose to his intended. For a land where proposals were often extravagant, with festivities extending for weeks, this proposal was expected to be outlandish.

Oakley had recently turned 18, training and preparing for his seat on the throne. He was promised to Katarina Carter of the Seven Isles, an alliance built upon by his father. A marriage good for the political state of the land.

The source of the information remained unknown, but many speculated it was the king himself who had let slip his son's inclination. For why would the Royals not want their son, the future king's, proposal to be captured for everyone to see?

The grounds were blooming with colour, due to the seasonal change, the flowers had come out of hibernation, brightening the garden with a transcendent hue. Birds tweeted splendid song, as the curtains were finally drawn, alerting the entire kingdom to Oakley's awakening.

All seemed ok, to the eyes of the civilians, the media, the family. But, upon close inspection, one would notice that Oakley's eyes were seemingly vacant. His smile seemed forced, slightly too crooked. Almost transfixed, by something, someone?

Servants fluttered around the grounds, busy and bustling, trolleying trays of cakes, delicacies and flutes of champagne. Cameras shuttered, trying to catch a glance of the soon to be engaged.

In strolled the Carters, their carriage carried by the rarest mares in the Seven Isles. Katarina was decked out, head to toe, in pearl white. A clear message that she was to be promised. A smug smile coated her face, a marriage of convenience, but it would appear that Katarina also harnessed some tenderness toward the heir. She had a track record of being possessive, especially at the annual balls the Kingdom held, she stuck to Oakley's side. Now was her time to show everyone what was hers.

Oakley had made his way out of the Palace, much to everyone's confusion, his hair tousled, his clothes wrinkled. Katarina caught sight of him, letting out a small gasp. She stormed towards him, maintaining her smile as best she could.

"What on earth are you doing?", she whispered, back to the cameras that were desperately trying to get a shot.

Oakley stared at her, no emotion, and continued. Katarina's mask was slipping, her eyes seemed like they were straining not to pop out. She hurried after him, smiling for the cameras that were increasingly capturing more and more of the confusion.

"Oakley!" Katarina huffed, struggling to match his stride.

Oakley continued.

She followed, persistently. He would not turn back to look at her, in fact he would not look at anyone, it was clear he had a destination in mind, and nobody was to distract him. Crowds gathered to watch the Heir as he continued onwards, a Princess, a King and a Queen in pursuit.

Trying not to cause a scene, the King and Queen had attempted to bring Oakley back towards the Palace, even tried to grab him. Yet, he was too strong, too determined to be struck off path. So, they followed.

He eventually made his way down towards the docks. Worry began to coat the King's face, his son getting closer and closer to the water.

"Oakley, come on son. You've had your laugh, very funny." The king shouted across the docks, trying to make light of the situation.

Nothing.

The king laughed, trying to reassure the crowd that this performance was all an elaborate joke, part of the plan. The Queen glanced up to her husband, her eyes beginning to water.

"What's wrong with him, Malcolm?" She whispered, constantly glancing back to her son that was edging towards the end of the docks.

Malcolm caught his Wife's eye, a look was shared between them. A look that said it all.

Splash.

Oakley walked straight into the water.

Silence fell around the dock. For everyone already knew, the King had so often pointed out, his son's only flaw was that he had never learnt how to swim.