Chapter Text
Micheal’s eyes fluttered open, and he groggily sat up, analyzing his surroundings. He rubbed his eyes, and hazily waved his fingers in front of his face. Dirt and blood, crusted and browning. Mike stumbled up onto his feet, tripping over himself. *The dream again*. Sand and dirt crumbled under his feet and trickled down his back and legs as he rose, balancing himself out in hopes of regaining stability. He used his sleeve to wipe his bloody nose, ignoring the aching pain that shifted back and forth through his chest and stomach. He peered towards the horizon, the sun setting on a hot and disorientating sort of landscape. All that could be seen was a dreary desert-like field, scattered with blood, bones, and other human remains, going on for miles and miles. Mike glanced back at his hands, noticing how they had shrunken down to the soft and gentle skin of a child, estimated no younger than three or four. He caressed his hands, tracing his small fingers across the lines of his palm. He tumbled back on to the ground as he yet again tried to walk forward, being startled by a sharp pain shooting up his legs as he attempted motion.
“How could I possibly feel pain from a dream…” Mike silently wondered to himself, surprisingly calm, given the current situation. But after all, this wasn’t the first time he had awoken to this particular battlefield. He had been having recurring nightmares, the only real abnormality being the vivid feeling of pain. Whenever he awoke from these night terrors, he was left with a sore yet subtle ache pulsing in his chest.
He grabbed his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, praying it would effectively wake him from his slumber. However, as he curiously opened one of his eyes, his surroundings stayed exactly the same.
“Curious.” Mike mumbled. Just as he was finally beginning to worry, he was shaken awake by harsh, strong, hands. Blood rushed to his head as he jumped up, quickly looking back and forth. Maxine, his maid, had shaken him out of his dizzying trance. He sat back down on his bed, readjusting himself, attempting to display some sort of decorum. After all, he *was* a prince, he had to present as such, even when distraught or distracted. He ignored the slight soreness of his chest.
“I’m so sorry for waking you, Your Majesty!” Maxine exclaimed. “It seemed like you were having a nightmare anyway… and I must remind you, you have business to attend to.” Maxine clapped her hands together and smiled.
Maxine, or Max, as she preferred, hated acting so politely and professionally around the prince, Micheal Wheeler. She couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy when around him. It made sense, he seemed to have it much better off than Max, who worked long hours each day to pay for food and warmth for her mother and father. Her brother, William, worked as a blacksmith, but his work alone was not enough to supply their family with what was needed.
The prince, however, awoke each morning to silk and satin blankets, easily slipping into marvelous robes, tailored specifically to suit him. He was set to marry a beautiful princess, Jane Hopper, who was temporarily ruling a close-by kingdom as her father visited King Theodore, inquiring about the availability of Mike, and what he could be expecting in the near future. Nobody doubted that the two would be wed, to any sane person they seemed like the perfect match. Jane appeared to be kind and considerate, while still ruling with a strict set of ideals. Not to mention, she was the picture of true beauty. Her long brown hair flowing down, effortlessly wavy and framing her stunning face, perfectly petite, displaying practiced expressions. She was fetching, to say the least. Mike, was as well admirable, being strong and powerful, yet somewhat calming and gentle when he needed to be. He knew how to charm a room. He was what you would expect from a strictly disciplined prince, raised to be mighty, athletic, and pleasing to look at. Everyone envied their looks and personalities.
Max brought in Mike’s breakfast tray as he finished changing out of his nightgown and into his formal attire. Toast and warm milk, butter slathered over the over-cooked bread.
“You certainly have an unusual taste,” Max laughed at his absurdity. “How could you possibly enjoy burnt toast?” Mike smiled.
“It’s an acquired taste.” He grabbed the tray from Max and sat down in a chair by his bed. “I don’t understand why everyone doesn’t eat it this way, to be honest.” Mike carefully took a small bite of his food, trying to stay clean and free of embarrassment, which seemed ironic considering his choice of dish.
“Why don’t you eat in the dining hall as everyone else does?” Max questioned curiously. Mike looked visibly uncomfortable upon hearing Max’s inquiry.
“No reason, really.” Mike readjusted himself in his seat. “It’s just a bit big for one person.” He set down his toast. “You know what, I seem to have lost my appetite.” Max raised her eyebrows suspiciously as Mike shoved the tray back into her grasp. Max didn’t know the real reason Mike ate isolated in his room, but she could at least recognize that he was lying, due to the uncomfort in his stance and voice, as well as the simple fact that she had known Mike for quite a long while, and wasn’t fooled easily by a lie escaping his lips. But it was really none of her concern, so she brushed it off.
Mike turned to his mirror and narrowed his eyes as he fixed a loose strand of his midnight hair.
“You mentioned I have business to attend to,” Mike continued to adjust his hair, brushing it out as he spoke. “What might that be?”
“Jane’s father, King James “Jim” Hopper, has come to see you.” Mike visibly paused at Max’s words. “You see him in the dining hall for tea, in… 45 minutes, Your Majesty.” Max rolled up her sleeve, exhibiting a silvery watch, reading 7:35.
“...Oh.” Mike muttered. “Alright then.” Mike suddenly seemed distant, uninterested in his suitor, or really anything related to the idea of her at all. His face vacillated between pretending to grin and a subtle frown, as if he couldn’t decide whether to express his frustration, or to plaster on a look of satisfaction.
***
Mike bit his nails nervously and waited in the dining hall with anticipation, his other hand repeatedly tapping his fingers on his tea cup, “Click, click, click.” The sound echoed slightly. Max poured him another glass of tea, “You’ll want to get your hands out of your mouth when meeting a king.” she whispered, and Mike could sense a hint of sarcasm in her tone. He blushed and tucked his hands back to his side.
A small gasp slipped out of Mike’s mouth as King James walked in, being followed by a beautiful Jane.
“King James, Princess Jane!” Mike stood up and bowed down, gently kissing the princess’s hand. “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting you,” he rose to his full height once more. “But it’s a pleasure either way.”
“Yes, I-” Jane started, but James quickly butted into the conversation.
“There was a sudden change in plans, I hope you won’t mind.” he chuckled to himself. “You’ve got a lovely home.” James gestured to the walls of the dining hall, decorated with painted portraits of Mike and his family, his mother, father, and older and younger sisters.
“Ah yes, thank you.” Mike forced a smile and nodded respectably at King James and Jane. “It’s a pleasure having you.” Mike reached out to shake the king’s hand, but James just eyed Mike up and down and brushed past him to take a seat at the table. Mike swiftly brought his arm down, embarrassed, but still shoving a smile onto his face.
He stepped towards another chair, pulling it out for Jane. She sat down slowly, peering up at Mike with big, curious, eyes. Mike had never met either person before, but his opinions of them hadn’t changed since they arrived. King James was nothing more or less than he expected, a tall man with a wide build and a scruffy beard, privileged, and honestly, an annoyance. Jane was beautiful as rumored, yet Mike seemed to show little to no interest in her appearance.
“So,” James started as Mike sat down. “Is it true, you’re available?” ‘Wow, straight to the point.’ Mike thought to himself.
“Oh, yes sir.” Mike tucked his hair behind his ear. “It’s true.” James smiled and grabbed his hands together in delight as Max filled his cup.
“And you’d be willing to wed with my wonderful daughter?” He rested his hand on Jane’s shoulder, and she looked down into her tea in what seemed to be bashful shyness.
"Yes... sir."