Royalty (1).

Royalty (1).

A Story by TheConfusedBoy

If you could be me for just one day, you would understand why I had to do this.

I knew everyone was looking for me and I knew it wasn't tactful for a royal to keep the world press waiting but I couldn't care less.
My name is Phillip and I write to myself in this journal, documenting my early life so that one day I can look back on many memories. I am also the Prince of England and the next in line for the title of King. The title of King is something sought after by all royals and non-royals. Obviously, I don't want anything to do with any of it. I understand that many people have this false idea that being royal means you are more special than other people because you have 'Royal' blood and that all royals do is wear fancy clothes and jewelry and have meet and greets at every event. It isn't all like that. There is tremendous pressure from inside your family, the one place you feel you are understood, and also the public. Sometimes I just imagine how other people see me and my family. Do they see me as a mysterious douchbag with everything in the world at my finger tips or an unfortunate soul stuck pleasing people for eternity while wearing a fake smile somehow symbolizing my human perfection?

When I was born the royal doctor told my mother that it was highly unlikely that I'd survive past the age of three. I was born very, very early and was extremely frail. I spent most of my younger childhood in the hospital trying to beat  my sickness. Finally, on August 22nd, 1993, I beat it. They allowed me to return home and that was the very first time I remember seeing the public in front view. My mother always talked to me about the public in an abstract way, as if it didn't really exist. People with cameras flooded the car and I felt like their captive audience. If you can imagine a barely recovering, five year old trying to get home to the only people in the world that five year old knows and suddenly being bombarded with random strangers for no reason that made sense. Why was I important in the first place?
I cried in my bed until my mother finally heard me. 
"Come here Phillip," she said. This was always her way of being there and comforting me. It's one of the most memorable things she'd ever say to me.
I ran to her and balled my eyes out, "What do they want with our family mum?" I asked frightened.
She half laughed and pulled me tighter while choking down tears, "Right now you won't understand who we are as Royals or what our duty is to the world and that is completely okay. You won't be able to understand why people want to meet you or what makes you sought after and beloved. That's okay. Be a child. Please, don't think about all of this until you are much, much older. Promise me Phillip."
I raised my head, wiping away tears, "I promise."
At five years old, I almost abandoned my childhood forever, being left with scarce memories. If it wasn't for my mother in that moment I needed her most, I could have turned out completely different. 

When my mother died, I died with her. There was no going back from that day. The one person who saved my childhood, had suddenly taken it with her to the grave. I specifically remember peering down over her headstone, imagining how she looked in her coffin under the ground. I couldn't fathom the cruelty of how people could just abandon someone so close to all of us by tossing her under a pile of soil and walking away. So I stayed for nine hours after people had left. A family friend who set up the funeral procession had waited until I was done 'mourning'. 

Mum.. I love you. I love you so much and I don't know if you can hear
me from down there but I love you with all my heart. I can't say
goodbye to you like everyone else can. I will never say
goodbye to you mum. You will always be apart 
of me. Always telling me what to do.
  I can't leave you mum. I need you! 

That is all I remember from her funeral. I remember being a child and forgetting most things except for my conversation with my mum. I knew she was listening now that I look back on that day. 

I'm now Twenty Three years old, sitting down in an uncomfortable wooden seat while reflecting on everything I've just written.
"Phillip. It's time," my father Andrew said sternly.
I couldn't  refuse him. I regained my perfect facade and walked out to the balcony.
I wasn't sure what was going on but I had to join the rest of the family. 
I walked outside to see the familiar mob of people that once shook me to my core. It was like being reunited with your elementary school bully. 
"My son Phillip is now twenty three years old today. I could tell you and the people watching that your mother would be overwhelmed with pride and happiness for the way you have turned out. Now there is a great responsibility in your future which is to one day replace me as King..." As he spoke my stomach turned and my forced smile grew into an awkward discomforted look, "I ask you now, my son Phillip, are you willing to sacrifice your own life and wishes and take up the roll as King to serve our people for the greater good?"
He waited for my response. When he realized I wasn't going to respond, he grabbed my arm. To the public, it looked playful, in reality, it was a steel grip. 
I shook off his grip and walked back inside, leaving a world of people in confusion.
My father smiled to the crowd before following me back inside, biting on his humiliation.
"What the hell is the matter with you Phillip? This is your life! This crown is your purpose. You have no other importance in the world other than to serve your family and the people. If you dare think you are going to have a life of your own you might as well change your last name and leave now."
I could feel my rage reach its highest. If he didn't stop now, over eighteen years of silence would burst forth in a terrible storm.
"Your mother would look down on you with shame Phillip," he said. I could see instantly that this would be the feather on top of the boulder that would break him, "Fine Phillip. Decline the throne, decline your life's training for this, reject your loyalty to your own family and friends and get out of here."
This was my home. All I ever knew and all I ever wanted to know. 
I knew this time would come. You could feel it beforehand, the rising tension and animosity that saves itself for moments like these.
I couldn't let him stand there and rip me to shreds.
"Father... Andrew, you have shamed yourself for trying to take your own son's life away to fulfill some ludicrous, extinct role in the world. There is no importance to being royal anymore. People are changing and so am I."
"You can throw me out, change my last name and forget that I was ever your own son but you can't have my life. You know as well as I that if mum was here she'd leave you. You were never good to any of us. You lived to please every possible thing that could put us to the top. You never enjoyed my company. In fact, you were never apart of any memory I've ever had in my life. You are the worst fuking human being I've ever met. And don't worry about disowning me, you never owned me from the start of this."
I grabbed my coat and left.

Never in British royalty history, has a prince ever said no to the role of King when given the opportunity. Main reason is that many knew if they declined it, they would be exiled and forever banished from the center of the family. My family died eighteen years ago. My family is in the grave. I am my only family now and I was better off.

© 2013 TheConfusedBoy

My Review

Would you like to review this Story?
Login | Register

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Added on July 23, 2013
Last Updated on July 23, 2013
Tags: Royalty, King, Duty, Throne



Fresno, CA

I am seventeen years old. I am sure of myself in many aspects of my life, yet completely insecure at the same time. I am a contradiction, I am a book that hasn't been opened by anyone. Meaning that my.. more..