A Royal Pain

Prince Christopher's POV I fix my blue silk tie as the Jaguar's door is opened for me and my expensive leather shoes meet the red carpet lied in front of Windsor Chapel for my youngest sister's wedding.  Church bells ding just as I wave to the flashing cameras desperate to capture Britain's most desirable bachelor - the next heir to the throne. "Chris! Chris!" the reporters call for me. "Who's your plus one?" "When's your big day?" "Have you found the one?" I ignore the questions, seeing my aunt and uncle walking toward me in a hurry. My aunt Elizabeth is a short chubby woman in her 60s with an impeccable fashion sense. "You're late," she says through a stiff smile without moving her dark pink lips at all - it's her specialty. Then she sticks her arm adorned with royal blue gloves under my arm and drags me slowly to the entrance, smiling at the cameras at the same time, seemingly without a care in the world. My Uncle follows us, inaudibly murmuring as well, "Oh, you're in trouble now..." I laugh at them as I'm forcedly escorted to the chapel where I was apparently needed over an hour ago. Probably because I'm the best man to my sister's future husband. I'm only always threatened to be punished, but never have been thus far. Not really, anyways. The chapel is decorated with thousands of white roses, which really seems like a waste, and white satin ribbons are tied over each of the two hundred chairs. The setting's lavish vibe is further accentuated by huge crystal chandeliers that hang from high arch ceilings. "Where's my favorite bad boy?" my future brother-in-law rushes to me with open arms. "Henry," I smile widely at him, spreading my arms to invite him into a hug.  We've met in college and have been friends ever since. He's one of those good boys I never understood, but can't be happier my sister's marrying one.  "Look who the cat dragged in," my father, the King approaches without a trace of a smile. He doesn't even wait to approach me all the way like usual, before he gives me a scold. "You behavior has gotten way out of line, Christopher," he speaks with a stern, authoritative voice I only tolerate when coming from him. "First you get drunk like a fool for Christina's wedding, now you're late here as the best goddamn man," he's now into my face. Christina is my other sister, only two years younger. Catherine, the baby of the family is five years my junior.  "I know, father," I use my usual 'get-out-of-trouble' voice. "I do feel terrible about it, I swear." "Don't interrupt me while I speak!" he cuts in. "Enough. This is the last I've tolerated of you. Tomorrow we're announcing your engagement to the press. Then maybe you'll pull yourself together." I raise my chin, suddenly my good mood leaving me. "Engagement?" I tilt my head cautiously, hoping I had heard him wrong. I don't even have a girlfriend currently. Damn, I've never had a relationship that lasted over a month. "I am not currently dating anyone, if I'm not mistaken," I put on a charming smile. "Stop grinning like a child," he says. "You're not a boy anymore. You're a man of 33 years and it's time you start acting like one!" I lose the grin and clear my throat, eyeing people around me as I try to gather myself. "What is this nonsense about an engagement, Father?" "Do not make me repeat myself," is all he says before he's gone.  I swallow hard, looking for council in my uncle's bright green eyes. "He's overreacting, right?" He only presses his lips, slowly continuing to walk towards the seats on the right. I quickly follow suit, sounding a bit desperate. "There can't really be an engagement, right?" I now look at my aunt, whose lips are also sealed. "Right?" Oh, s**t. I'm frozen in place. This does not sound good. "Christopher!" Catherine yells, calling me with her hand towards the altar.  I rush toward her, not even able to be mesmerized seeing her glow in her sparkly white dress and long lace veil stretching all the way to the floor from her silver crown that used to be our grandmother's favorite.  "You've finally made it," she squeals in excitement, pressing my hands. "I'm so nervous..." she shuts her eyes in panic. I try to collect myself, caressing her hands. "You look gorgeous," I say. "Literally zero reasons for you to be nervous about today," I lick my lips in anxiety, wishing I could say the same for myself. "Thanks, Chris," she pulls me into a hug and lays a gentle kiss on my cheek, then quickly rushes to erase its traces. "Don't want anyone to write fake stories in the tabloids about the future heir's cheek stamps, do we now?" she chuckles. I chuckle back. My mischiefs have been the tabloids' favorite subject for years now. "Did I ruin my makeup?" she raises her eyebrows, looking around, trying to spot a mirror. "Your makeup's perfect," I reassure her. "You're perfect," I say, not really being a makeup expert. I fidget in place as I see many people whispering, looking at me. What in hell is going on? "Hey, Kate," I whisper. "Have you perhaps heard anything about..." I clear my throat and lower my voice, "An engagement being announced tomorrow, by any chance?" Her cheeks go up as she tries to contain a smile. Then she nods a little, her eyes escaping to the back of the room.  I follow her gaze to our old childhood friend, Sophia, entering the chapel. She's wearing her usual boring royal clothes - a clean A cut, zipped all the way up til her throat, covering her legs mid way to the ankles. "What are you looking at?" I ask, a little fearful. I have a bad gut feeling about it, I don't know why. "I'm looking at her," she wiggles her eyebrows playfully.  I swallow hard, shaking my head slowly. "No..." I almost whisper. She only nods twice in confirmation. "No, Kate..." I say, looking back towards Sophia again, hoping to see someone else around her. But there's no one else. I exhale in desperation, looking back to my baby sister. "They want to marry me to the girl I've hated my whole life?" Kate almost chuckles. "I swear I don't know why I'm laughing," she wipes her eyes a little. "I feel really bad for you, I do," she says, but somehow she doesn't look that way. And I know why the irony is funny. How many times have I said I'd rather abdicate than have a wife that stiff? That polite. That... f*****g perfect.  She's one of those women that if you were stranded on a deserted island with, you'd die out of boredom, not from the lack of food. I look back once again, and this time she meets my eyes. She stops walking for a moment, sending me a look of disappointment and exasperation - one that tells me this is really happening. We're both being forced to marry. But what has she done to be talked into this? Or is it perhaps that she is only after the crown? Wouldn't be the first social climber this family has seen, that much is certain. "The monarchy is threatened, brother," Kate whispers, this time not laughing. "Parents looked for someone with a perfect reputation. 'Cause with yours... you cannot afford a single more slip." My heart beats so fast I hear nothing but its pounding in my ears. Then Sophia takes a seat at the back of the chapel, neatly crossing her legs at the ankles, then doing the same with her slender arms.  She raises her chin and looks up to the altar. She will keep this pose for the entire ceremony. I know, because we've been teasing her about being a robot ever since kindergarten.  And now the robot will become my Queen. Oh, f**k me.