“It’s nice of you to finally arrive, Blaine,” remarked the King in a hard voice the second Blaine burst through the double doors of the Council Room.

“My apologies, father,” said Blaine as he inclined his head respectfully toward him and then acknowledged the dozen other men in the room who had stood hastily upon his entrance. “I had a bit of a late start this morning.”

“That’s no excuse,” replied the King of Dalton. “Please take your seat.”

Blaine nodded and, head bent in shame, sat down gracefully in the large oak chair next to his father. Around him, a dozen mahogany tables curved around the oval room. The gleaming wood desk that Blaine and his father were seated at was the focal point of the room, draped in deep green fabric and trimmed with gold.

“You may begin,” said the King to the head of Parliament, Lord Michael, the husband of the Queen’s good friend, Lady Tina.

“I’m assuming that the young Prince knows why he is here this morning,” began Lord Michael, looking over at Blaine with kind eyes, despite his tardiness. Blaine glanced at his father.

“Not. . . precisely,” answered Blaine, sitting up straighter in his chair and trying his very best to appear fully capable of his current position to the others in the room. He would soon be taking his father’s place, and he did not want to appear immature to entirety of Parliament.

“We will be briefing you on the draft of the alliance between Dalton and neighboring McKinley, and what exactly your role in it entails,” said Lord Michael. The rest of Parliament settled back as if to make themselves comfortable for the lengthy session that was about to begin.

“You are expected to remain silent during this, son,” murmured the King and Blaine nodded, fighting off the urge to sigh.

Lord Michael cleared his throat and lifted a crinkled sheet of parchment before his eyes.

“In the event of an offensive military strike on the country of Dalton by the enemy country of Carmel, McKinley and Dalton shall form a military alliance to defend both countries against all possible attacks by Carmel,” read Lord Michael. He glanced around the room as if to make sure everyone was listening.

“Furthermore, in the event that King St. James of Carmel attempts to overthrow the throne of McKinley or Dalton, a political alliance will be conducted to strengthen the rightful royal blood of the throne. Upon the marriage of Prince Blaine Anderson of Dalton and Princess Rachel Hummelberry of McKinley, such political alliance will be contracted. Following betrothal, the militaries of Dalton and McKinley will fuse as one, bonding the countries as one body of defense and offense. The alliance will be official upon the possession of the throne of Dalton by Prince Blaine and Princess Rachel and when an heir has been born to the young King and Queen. The marriage will take place on the Winter Solstice, four months from this day.”

Blaine stiffened, unable to bear the thought that his entire life was spelled out before him in the form of a contract.

He would have to father Rachel’s children.

As much as he cared for her, he could not stomach it.

Blaine felt his father’s eyes on him as Lord Michael set the parchment aside.

I have no choice.

“Do you have any questions, your royal highness?”

Blaine raised his chin and tried his very best to look confident in the eyes of his elders, all of whom expected so much from him. “No, sir. It all seems very straightforward.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw his father looking at him with approval and he breathed a sigh of relief. With that sigh came the crushing realization that he would never live the life he wished to. Resigning himself to a lifelong secret affair with the only person he could ever make love to, Blaine ignored the sudden weight on his shoulders and did not allow them to droop.

On the surface, he would remain obedient. What they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them.

“You are dismissed, son,” said the King. “Duke Finn is waiting for you on the training field.”

Blaine nodded and stood, bowing his head respectfully to Parliament as he left the room.

He ran like the wind to the training field, physical exertion the only thing that could properly express the frustration he felt. He had been trained for endurance and strength his entire life, knowing since he was a toddler that he would grow to be a warrior Prince someday, just like his father. The time had come for Blaine to learn how to fight. But, the one thing that Blaine wished to oppose couldn’t be battled with a sword.

“Good afternoon, Prince Blaine,” said Duke Finn after a low bow.

“Cut the formality, Finn, and just teach me how to stab things,” snapped Blaine when he reached the small building on the edge of the training fields, which were dotted with soldiers in various states of battle practice.

“Are you okay?” Finn asked, leading Blaine into the changing rooms and handing him a set of arm and leg pads.

“Oh, life is grand.”

“Right,” said Finn, clearing his throat awkwardly as he waited for Blaine to get dressed. He lowered his voice and glanced around to make sure there wasn’t anybody else in the room. “Listen, Rachel told me about. . . you know.”

“Kurt and I?” Blaine said frankly.

“I know that people here don’t really approve of his. . . lifestyle, but-”

“Being gay is about as much of a lifestyle choice as breathing is. It’s kind of a natural thing.”

“Sorry,” Finn replied. “I’m not educated on the subject. But, I’m happy for you. Despite the alliance, and the fact that you’ll be marrying the woman I love come December, I’m really glad that you have one thing to make you happy. Ever since we were kids, I’ve known that you and Kurt had that something special. I just wish that everyone else could be as accepting.”

Blaine blinked, mentally trying to push away the sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to blur his vision. “Wow, um. Thank you, Finn.”

“I just wish none of this had to happen this way.”

Blaine grabbed a sword from the rack on the wall and Finn followed him outside to a cluster of straw dummies.

“We’re royal,” Blaine said to him, turning the sword in his hand. “We don’t choose our futures.”