Neil of Tanith - Part 1

Smiling, Prince Neil of Tanith nodded and tried to stifle a yawn as yet another "gift of rare and exquisite value" was presented to him by yet another young lord of the kingdom. Frankly, he'd had enough of the "gifts of rare and exquisite value," enough of the gilt-edged mirrors and portraits, enough of the gold-plated swords in their gold-plated sheaths, enough of the hand-crafted home-embroidered tunics lined with easily-pliable silver-tinted fabric, enough altogether of all the blasted hyphens. Just because he was turning 18 didn't mean that the entire city had to bring him "gifts of rare and exquisite value."

Nodding a fantastic pewter soup-tureen-that-wasn't-really-for-soup by — yahoo, they were getting into decorative dishware — what the hell was he going to do with a soup tureen, anyway? — not like he could cook or anything — he couldn't freeze water without something going wrong — he caught the eye of his elder brother. Nicholas grinned a "Boy, am I glad I’m not you" look at him before turning away. Probably remembering his 18th birthday, Neil grumbled to himself, smiling at a lovely crystal punch bowl.

The next gift brought him down to earth with a resounding bang. Well, not the gift really, but the carrier. She was a stunning brunette with a pair of dazzling hazel eyes and an unfortunately terrific figure. As she approached he remembered back to previous meetings with other girls: all disasters. His father had often tried to set him and his brothers up with the more affluent daughters of the kingdom, but they were mostly either A) flighty, or B) haughty, two adjectives that Neil all but despised. But he had never seen this girl before. Maybe... He smiled at her. "Hello."

She giggled. Good God. He nodded her by.

Then Nelmir stepped forward. Nelmir was like no other court wizard. He was 28, with a duster of sand-colored hair and a handsome grin that had half the girls in the palace practically swooning at his feet. As a wizard, he was rather less than traditional. If there was one thing he hated, it was being typecast; if he had to be a magician, there'd be no tall, pointy blue hats or sparkly wands. No, all he had was a thick paperback copy of "Modern Spells for Everyday Uses" that had hit the bestseller list back in November and a credit card. And all he ever used his staff for was roasting marshmallows. Which is precisely why Neil was a tad more than surprised as Nelmir approached carrying a crystal ball on a purple velvet pillow.

Nelmir shot the prince an apologetic grin. "They were all out of square crystals."

"Ah." That cleared up a lot.

After several more gift-laden individuals had presented their gifts of rare and exquisite value, the line ended. Relieved, Neil adjusted his thin silver-band-of-a-crown and prepared to stand up.

"Attention!" Damn. "Attention, everyone!" The prince sank back into his seat. "I have an announcement to make." King Bryant strode forward with his usual awe-inducing stride, but Neil felt a little less awed and a little more nauseous. Whenever the king had an announcement, someone died or was born or the world collapsed. He stood before his son, facing out to the kingdom. "On behalf of the Kingdoms of Tanith and Bondure, I have one more gift to present to my son." Here he turned and beamed at Neil, who at least attempted to smile and failed miserably.

"As you all know, Neil is my second son to reach the age of 18. And as I'm sure you also know, it is customary for the king to give his son something much more than impressive in celebration of this advent of the prince's entrance into manhood." Oh, yeah. Neil had forgotten about that. "Last year, my eldest received from his mother and me the statue that many of you now see erected on Tanith commons." Glancing over at his still-grinning brother, Neil remembered how thrilled Nick had been with that effigy. Perhaps this gift was something actually good. He sat up a little straighter.

"This year, the queen and I decided to get something a little...different for Neil, yet something even more magnificent." The prince smiled modestly in anticipation. "For his 18th birthday and entrance into the world of maturity, we have gotten our son..."

The kingdom inhaled.

"...A wife!"

The kingdom exhaled. And cheered. And cheered some more.

ON the throne behind the king, Neil sat, paralyzed. A wife. He was going to be married. Did anyone know what this meant? Hell on earth, that's what it meant. As the power of thought returned to his numbed mind, he realized that he had to do something about this. He didn't want a wife, especially not a female one. Invariably, wives were female. And he had enough trouble talking to his sister. And all the girls he'd met so far were either flighty or patronizing. So that's all there was to it: No way in Tanith did he want a wife. Neil got ready to stand and deliver a polite but firm refusal.

But his father wasn't about to let him get a word in edgewise. “A wife. Lady Celeste of Bondure, a beauty beyond beauties, an angel beyond angels. A prince couldn't hope for a more perfect wife. This is our gift to Neil. Happiest of birthdays, son!" As the crowd continued cheering, King Bryant turned part way, sending the prince an expectant glance. Neil knew exactly what the look meant: Castle protocol demanded an acceptance speech.

The prince pushed himself slowly to his feet, lest he be interrupted again. Carefully organizing his thoughts, he unconsciously shoved his crown back onto his black waves and opened his mouth to speak —

— and caught his father's expression. Calm, noble, as always, yet tinted with the merest bit of boyish eagerness and pride. Pride for his son, his second eldest; pride for the first royal marriage since his own several decades ago. And in that expression, Neil knew that he could never disappoint this dear man who wanted only the very best for his son. So instead of the nice and tidy "Thanks but no thanks," he found his mouth forming the words, "Gee, Dad, I don't know what to say. Uh, it's — it's the best thing anyone ever got me."

King Bryant beamed. "I knew you'd love it, Neil. Now, let's eat!" The king always had a knack of saying the right words at the right time. The crowd cheered again.

As the kingdom began to file into the enormous dining hall adjacent to the throne room, from which particularly delectable scents of turkey and potatoes were wafting, Neil flopped back onto the throne. His ears were ringing as if his head had been banging around in the meeting center's bell tower for the past day or two. A wife. He simply could not believe it. Gone was his freedom, his privacy, his habit of eating breakfast while in the bathtub. Now he was going to be pampered and fussed over and — shuddering — cleaned up after. He had been right, anyway: His father's announcement had indeed collapsed the world.

Suddenly Neil leaped to his feet and rushed outside, intent only on becoming violently ill.