Chapter Text
The kingdom ruled by House Tucker was beloved and held in high regard by its residents. The people from the kingdom were a rowdy and cheerful bunch, taverns always full with drunkards and performers, and the pebbled streets were always busy with life. From market stands to children playing, the kingdom lived in prosperity and peace. Thomas Tucker, the current king, knew that in order to keep the kingdom as it was now, he had to take drastic measures even if the decision was hard to make.
The decision in mind?
The arranged marriage of his heir and son: Craig Tucker.
“No,” snapped Craig, arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Craig,” stressed Thomas. He sighed when Craig’s glare turned sharper. Thomas rubbed his thick eyebrows in frustration. “I’m going to go bald before the end of tonight if you continue with this attitude of yours.”
“You’re already getting there, my King,” he joked with a sneer.
“Craig!” he yelled and stood up from his throne. The shout echoed in the empty throne room. “Stop being so stubborn! Can’t you see that the marriage would benefit the kingdom?”
“The one you chose for me to wed,” he spat, “comes from a trading family.” Despite Thomas standing on a dais platform, he wasn’t able to loom over Craig. Just last week Craig had celebrated entering adulthood, and they were nearly at the same height. The Tuckers were often compared to giants and though Craig found it to be an exaggeration, he could now understand what the people meant.
“A trading family won’t bring any kind of benefit to the kingdom,” continued Craig. He didn’t falter under his dad’s stare. Instead, he stood up straighter, and stared right into his old man’s dull blue eyes.
“You’re wrong, son,” smiled Thomas and Craig’s skin crawled. His dad wasn’t known to be mischievous—that was the title that belonged to his beloved sister—but the smile he wore now could only mean trouble. “The trading family owns a port by the ocean, and it brings in exotic materials from our sister kingdom making them incredibly important and beneficial to our kingdom.”
Thomas stepped down from the dias, and he was able to meet eye-to-eye with his son. It felt just like yesterday when Thomas had to squat to meet his gaze.
“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” he sighed, and Craig avoided his gaze, a frown etching on his face. “It’ll bring food to the tables of many,” he said, waiting for his son to return his gaze to him. He had yet to do so. “It would build houses, farms would flourish with the seeds of exotic fruits and vegetables! Think of the future of the kingdom.”
Craig scowled, taking a step back from his dad, and crossed his arms over his chest. He finally looked at his dad and nearly told him that he didn’t quite care for the kingdom. But that would open a door to feelings and thoughts that Craig had been keeping dormant for years.
His dad scratched the back of his head and said, “It wasn’t easy securing the marriage.” He winced, and Craig really didn’t want to know what he had to do in order for the trading family to agree. “There were other kingdoms competing for their only son, so—”
“You should have let them have him then…” muttered Craig, face twisting in annoyance.
“You’re going to marry the son,” snapped Thomas, impatient at the roundabout conversation.
Craig’s face dropped to a scowl. “No, I won’t.”
“You have no choice.”
“Why now?” challenged Craig. He was never one to back down especially if his freedom, his peace, was on the line.
“Because you are of age!”
“There’s still time.”
“Craig, I am getting old,” he stressed. “Who knows how much longer I have to live?”
Craig clicked his tongue. “You can’t always use that excuse, my King.”
“It’s not an excuse, Craig,” whispered Thomas, and he plopped down on his throne
For the first time in his life, Craig saw him for who he was. Thomas wasn’t just a king who ruled over a powerful kingdom, trading correspondence with other strong and great leaders like himself. He wasn’t just Thomas who loved to go hunting, and who laughed during dinner with goose grease all over his mouth. He wasn’t even just his dad who used to take him stargazing.
He was simply a man whose wrinkles around his eyes were more prominent now than ever and whose white hairs stood out amongst his fiery red.
A man who looked his age.
Thomas was old and tired.
Realization of the passage of time hit Craig like a bull charging right into his gut. Tears unwittingly filled his eyes, and he blinked them back rapidly. Craig didn’t cry. He refused to despite the tightness in his chest, and the clog in his throat.
“I can’t…” Craig tried again, but he knew that there was no point. From the moment he was born, he was destined for the crown. He was the heir of Thomas Tucker, and he was going to be king once his dad passed. He was prepped for the role ever since he learned to read and write. Lessons of diplomacy and politics.
However, he never expected for it to come so soon. His dad was ready to give him the crown, and it was heavier than he thought. It terrified and angered him.
He didn’t want to go through with the marriage. He didn’t want this.
He wanted to settle down in an unknown village, small and unmarked on maps, so he wouldn’t be tracked. He would live a simple life with a fireplace to keep him warm, a pint of beer in one hand, and a guinea pig—an exotic animal he had read about when he was younger and had wanted one as a pet ever since—on his lap.
Simple and boring. Just the way he liked it.
He should have known better than to dream of something that he knew would never come true.
“Fine.”
“That’s my boy!” hollered Thomas and sprang to his feet. He clasped a meaty hand on Craig's shoulder and shook him with a strength that could rival a mountain. “I will begin preparation for your marriage!” Thomas left the chamber with a skip to his step, and a swish of his robes.
Craig stood in the middle of the throne room. He didn’t notice he was clenching his hands until his nails bit into his skin. He exhaled shakily and turned to the door, his mind already making the decision to go to the training grounds. Swinging a sword at the dummies would help him blow off some steam—
“I can practically see your thoughts from over here, brother,” teased a voice from the shadows.
Craig had to suppress the jump at the sudden voice. Instead, he closed his eyes and sighed through his nose.
“Tricia,” he glowered before turning to focus on one corner of the throne room.
Tricia Tucker, the young Princess of House Tucker, stepped out with a grin that closely resembled their dad’s after he had a successful hunt. Her unruly strawberry blond hair was tied back in a tight braid. Her training clothes were dirty, so she must have sneaked in after sword practice.
“You need to be more inconspicuous otherwise you’re going to suck as a King,” she snickered as she skipped over to him. She smiled at him, puffing out her chest, as she said, “I learned that word from my tutor.”
He didn’t give her the praise that she wanted. Instead, he rolled his eyes and walked away.
She fell into step with him. “Practice was great! Thanks for asking.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Yeah, but I’m going to tell you what happened anyway.” She grinned and stepped in front of him. She dropped into a defensive sword stance and swung the imaginary sword in her hand. “We learned how to unarm an enemy, and we just started our hand-to-hand combat lessons! I, of course, am the star pupil.”
Craig lightly punched Trica on the shoulder. She lost her balance and nearly tipped over. She had to comically swing her arms to remain standing.
“You could never beat me,” he drawled.
Tricia threw a punch to his side, but Craig was faster and grabbed her wrist. They locked eyes and grinned mischievously before lunging at each other as if they were in the mud pits. A few servants, when turning the corner, immediately walked the other way when they saw the Tucker siblings going at it like rabid beasts.
If there was one thing every person knew within the walls of the castle was that the Tucker siblings playfully fought as if their life depended on it. Blood would be spilled but, at the end, their smiles dripped with affection.
As it was the Tucker way, of course.
After half an hour of horsing around, both siblings collapsed on the floor. Craig refused to say it outloud, but Tricia helped distract him from what he was thinking about.
“Sooo what were you thinking about that had you so distracted?”
He sighed, eyes closing in defeat. He should have known that she would ask. She had a weird knack in knowing when he felt off, and she would probe and poke until she got the answers she was looking for.
Fortunately for Tricia, Craig always told her what she wanted to hear. He found it troublesome to play a game of guesses when simply telling her would get her off his back. Unfortunately for his dear sister, this particular situation required him not to tell her a damn thing.
What was he going to say? That he didn’t want the crown? That he didn’t want to be king?
Instead, he decided to pivot the conversation to something he knew would catch her attention. “Dad arranged a marriage, and I fucking hate it.”
They were still laying in the middle of the hallway where anyone could hear them, but he didn’t care.
“Yeah, I can see why.” She sat up and dusted off her clothes. She didn’t even bother to help him up, and she smiled when she saw him wince. “But it is your duty as the future King.”
“Right.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. She looked like she wanted to tell him something else, but before she could, he walked away and said over his shoulder, “I’ll tell the servants to draw you a bath.”
He didn’t look back, and he didn’t go to the training grounds. Instead, he went to his room and locked the door the moment he entered. The silence was unwelcomed, and he did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He went to the balcony, and he had a clear view of the night sky.
The stars twinkled and winked at him, and he whispered, “I wish…” He faltered and blushed.
He was a kid when his dad told him a secret.
“Did you know that stars grant wishes?” Craig could still remember the grin his dad gave him. It was clear now that his dad was merely joking, but as a kid, he was enamored that the stars were more than just makers of stories—their constellations telling the history of humankind—but they were also granters of wishes.
Every night after, Craig would stand in this very same balcony and tell the stars his wishes. They had heard many over the course of his life, but he slowly stopped doing it as he grew older. But now here he was again, childishly hoping that the stars really could hear him and grant him this one wish.
“I don’t want to marry,” he whispered, gripping the railing. “I don’t want to be King.”
The stars twinkled and winked.
“Please,” he begged, his face flushed with embarrassment, but there was hope beating in his heart as well.
The stars said nothing, and he sighed. It was childish of him to think something magical would happen. He closed the door to the balcony and collapsed on his bed.
He dreamt of the stars, his hands moving them to form a constellation, and he realized he was writing his story. How would it end? What was it?
Before he could look at the entirety of it, he woke up.