FILE 11: THE WORLD OF THE FAE PART 3

Everyone sat in silence and listened to Duke's chatter. He was too excited to notice the irritation of some of the members.

Mars picked his fruit quietly as he contemplated. He knew that no matter what he did, Catriona was on his side. His mother loved mischief. 

She wouldn't interfere, no matter what. The problem is with the two fathers. His father is adamant that he marry and become king, and from the looks of it, the Duke is very eager to become part of the royal family.

He wished Nathan was here. Nathan tends to ruin the mood with his arrogance. Mars froze. Nathan! If he acts like Nathan always does, Arran might not be as keen as he is now.

And, with Catriona's help, and some exaggeration, he might be able to break the engagement. 

He coughed and got everyone's attention. "Yes, dear?" his mother asked. "Enough about the wedding, Mother. Let's talk about me," he smirked.

She looked surprised but nodded. "Master Arran. Even though you are the future father-in-law, you must remember that I will be king. 

As king, you will treat me-" Mars explained in great detail what he wanted from his in-law, startling the poor man. Nicneven struggled to hold a straight face as her son sternly chided the duke.

Finvarra cocked his head. After thinking the entire night, he decided to give his son another fifty human years' time. So now, if Ailbhe ruined his engagement, he didn't really care. He slugged his everapple cider while listening to his son.

"Also, when in public, you will bow down and address me appropriately. As the ultimate authority, I cannot allow you to belittle me.

A mere mistake will ruin my image as a perfect Sith, so I would regret executing you in front of your wife and daughter," Mars flicked his hair.

The queen choked on her fruit.

She quickly excused herself as she fled the room. "Father, do you really want me to marry someone so narcissistic?" Catriona demanded.

It took a while, but she finally caught on. "He's a danger to our family. Let's go home, and I can marry someone more suitable."

Her father sat flabbergasted, but he came back to his senses. "Nonsense! Boy, you speak like this now, but one day when you take the throne, you'll learn more responsibility. Then, when reality sinks in, you'll have the shock of your life," he scolded.

Mars facepalmed inwardly. 'Get a clue,' he thought. "I'm the king. Who will naysay me? Family? The noble houses? A perfect beauty like me? I'll kill them the moment they do. You talk about responsibility, but I will control everything. 

And everyone will have a responsibility to live for me. My wife included," he sneered. Duke Arran smashed a fist into the table. King Finvarra lifted the goblet absent-mindedly to keep it from falling.

"Outrageous! King Finvarra, is this how you raise your son? To be a monster?" he shouted.

"I didn't raise him. My wife and his maids did. I only saw him a few times during his childhood. How he became is no problem for me. How he rules as a king is not my problem.

As long as he fulfils his main duty," he replied calmly. As his king drank his cider, the Duke stared incredulously. 

He glowered. "When I married my wife, I vowed to be a good husband, even if I wasn't a loving husband. I cherish her family as if they were my own. I can't understand you.

Why aren't you admonishing your son? If he continues the way he is, he'll be a tyrant, and everyone will suffer under him."

No one replied. The Duke continued.

"I want my daughter to live a lavish life as the Queen of Álfheimr. But I can't bear the thought of her getting hurt," he said. Catriona became teary-eyed.

"Oh father. I'll be all right. Let's break off the engagement and go home. I'm sure there is someone out there just waiting for me," she grasped his hand.

 'Excellent,' Mars winked at Catriona as she held the Duke's hand. She looked flustered. Her father was completely oblivious. He patted her hand. "Are you sure? If you marry, it will be that boy. What's his name, Garbhán? But he's only from one of the lesser noble houses."

She glanced away shyly. It was obvious she pined for him. "He's already my friend, so I don't mind marrying him." 

"If that's your wish."

"It is," she confirmed firmly.

Arran turned and faced Mars and his father. "You heard from the girl. Engagement is off. The prince will have to find someone else. Also, some advice for Your Majesty."

"You may speak," the king permitted.

"Fix your son's rotten attitude," he said. Finvarra raised an eyebrow. Mars, still pretending to be a narcissist, yelled, "How dare you? Father, arrest this man for offending me." 

"Don't worry, we're leaving. Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty. Apologies for my rude behaviour. I'll send a gift as an apology. Good day to you all. Come on, dear." The Duke and his daughter got up and Arran waltzed away.

Catriona hesitated. She curtsied, mouthed 'thank you', and hurried after her father. They were followed by the delegation that came with them. After the guards had closed the doors, Nicneven returned. Chuckling, she sat down in her chair. 

"If you weren't our son, I would have mistaken you for a performer. Where in the world did you pull that from?" Mars, who was relaxing, ate fruit.

"I copied Nathan's personality. He adores himself. I believe that if I wasn't there to bring him down to reality, he might act like a tyrant."

"Oh my. See, dear, I told you providing him with more time was a good thing," she smiled coyly at her husband.

"Enough playing, you two. Ailbhe has tarnished his reputation. I'm only sending him away to help things die down, " Finvarra said coldly. "Right, right. If you say so. Ailbhe, your father has allowed fifty more human years for your tutelage.

You may go and teach them until we next summon you. Isn't that great news?" Nicneven smiled. Mars' heart pounded. "So, are you telling me I don't have to get married?"

"Oh, you will be married. It's just delayed," his father warned. Of course, it is. "Since time flows differently, we'll send you back tomorrow. Your friend is probably worried about you," Nicneven said brightly. Tomorrow. He can't wait to return. He hopes Nathan misses him too.