A NIGHT OF SHAME AND GUILT

Prince Eric Pov

My mother and I came storming into the Castle, the earth trembling beneath the horses' hooves. Horns bellow to announce my arrival and people flinch and hide their faces as I pass, their whispers swift and scared. As I step out of the carriage, their gasps can be heard like a whip crack in the air. My wolf eyes dart around, catching glimpses of shame and fear on every face.

We quickly marched to the throne room, anticipation rippling through my veins. The weight of responsibility presses down on me like a stone. My mother's hand on my shoulder is the only comfort I have as I prepare to confront my father. The silence is deafening as we approach the throne room, and I can feel the tension building inside me like a storm. My father is not the forgiving type.

As we enter the throne room, my father rising out of his seat and fixing me with an intent gaze. “Son, what happened to your face?” he asks, stepping closer to examine my swollen nose.

“That bitch! Princess!” I growl, memories of her smirking face surging through me like a wildfire. Fury burns within me, and I can hardly contain it. “You got hit by a girl!” he hisses, pushing me away and spitting at my shoe.

All I can do is stare at the ground, humiliation and anger flooding my veins. “How could you let this happen?” he growls with disdain. “My son – the best swordsman in the kingdom – allowed a small, weak creature to hit him??!!”

“Your Highness, please, he was only...” My mother pleads, her voice trembling as he approaches. His gaze is as cold as ice and he pushes me aside without a glance, each step he takes towards her heavier than the last.

“Did I say you could speak?” His snarl rips through the air like a blade as he towers over her.

“No, your Highness I…” He does not even let her finish her sentence before his hand quickly rises and slaps her hard, sending her crashing to the ground in a heap.

"This is how pitiful wretches should be treated," he scoffs, grabbing her hair and throwing her at my feet.

The wolf in me stirs at the sight of our mother in such pain, poising to strike, but I stay still - one wrong move and it will be her flesh that paid for my mistake. His smirk of delight is sickening as he looks down on my mother cowering beneath him.

"Now what to do with the princess," he sneers, turning his cold eyes towards me.

“Father, with all due respect, this is my mess and I should be the one to clean it up,” I replied, and his cold eyes darted towards me.

“Oh yes, you will indeed; you will go back to that castle and you will tell them you will marry that princess so that you can torture her without any consequences for your actions.” His lips curled into an evil smirk.

A few hours later

I trudged to my room, my heart heavy as I saw the light to my mother’s room was still on, and the door ajar. Peering inside I see my mother sitting on her bed, her face illuminated in the orange nightlight. She is looking through old photos of me and my brother, tears streaming down her cheeks, and I can't help but notice the red purplish bruise still visible on her face from earlier. The door creaks as I lean onto it, and I quickly step back so she doesn't see me.

"Who's there?" She calls out, her voice trembling with fear. But I did not answer her. My mind is whirling with my thoughts--what will my father do if he sees me with her? She looks around for a few moments, before going back into the room, closing the door behind her.

The light in her room turns off and I take a deep breath. My mind is consumed with memories of my mother's plight and helplessness earlier today when my father had lashed out at her. Her eyes had pleaded for me to help her, yet all I did was stand there, watching like I had done countless times before, not wanting to challenge him like my brother had done before he died. His courage was something that inspired me even now--to stand up for what is right--yet why couldn't I have done that myself? With a heavy heart and a feeling of shame and guilt lingering in my mind, I made my way back to my room and fell into bed.

Just then, my door opened, and a serving girl stepped in with a jug of water. Her head was bowed, her gaze fixed on the floor. She placed the jug on the bedside table before moving to the foot of the bed, where she knelt to begin untying the laces of my boots. I couldn't help but take in the sight of her dress, which had been left oddly undone at the top, revealing the soft curves of her cleavage. Arg what these peasants will do for some attention from a prince. Suddenly, an urge to vent my frustrations took over me. I grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the bed.

“My prince, what are you doing?” she whimpered as I grabbed my belt and undid my pants.

“Lift up your dress," I commanded,

"Anything for you my prince, “she says with a smirk on her face.

I unclasped my belt and peeled away my trousers, then thrust myself inside of her, eliciting a loud cry. I grasped clumps of her hair in my fists as I moved inside of her, faster and faster until I reached my climax.

“Get out," I commanded gruffly as I refastened my pants. She quickly adjusted herself and ran out of the room without looking back. Exhausted by the encounter, I collapsed onto the bed trying to drift off to sleep.

I tossed and turned, but I could not help the overwhelming sense of guilt and shame. My mind was plagued with the image of my mother's battered face, and I couldn't help but think that I was becoming just like my father.