Eighteen: Prince Cadoc
2345 Words
Chapter Eighteen
Prince Cadoc
The last few weeks of November were filled with studying, and then December came. Finals lasted for two weeks, and then there was a three-week vacation. Some of the finals were labs, some essays, some presentations depending on the subject.
During exam week, it was customary for students to pin red geraniums to their black scholar’s robes which were required for every student to wear. Since I was the Prince, I had a special, golden geranium pin that I was supposed to wear that had been passed down from generation to generation.
I had a burning desire to see it on Penelope, to let the world know that she was mine in some small way even if we couldn’t say anything officially. For nearly two weeks after the fashion show, I hadn’t seen her because she’d been locked away studying. Even Audrey had decided to stay with Gwyneth, away from the dorm because she’d become so intense.
The last time I’d tried to visit, I’d gotten a shoe thrown at me.
At that moment, I sat on table out in the quad, smoking a cigarette with Gwyneth sitting by me as she went over her Trig notes. It had started snowing the week before, and we should have been inside but I’d wanted to get away from the Prince Hunters.
“I want to give her my pin,” I announced as I puffed on my cigarette.
Gwyneth looked up suddenly. “Well, that’s the dumbest thing that you could possibly do.”
“Why?” I said. “Whatever we are or aren’t right now she’s going to be mine. One way or another. I just think the world should know that.”
“Giving her your pin is like announcing to the world that you’re engaged,” said Gwyneth, “the media would be all over her. Don’t do it.”
I put my cigarette out. “So, I can’t even give her something just innocently? As a friend?”
“Not if you don’t want to have to deal with the King getting pissed off because the press thinks you’ve entered into a young engagement. Look, she’s spending the holidays with you, isn’t she?” said Gwyneth.
“Actually, I’m doing Christmas with her,” I said, “then, she’s coming for New Year’s.”
“Right, well, if you’re going to give her anything, now is the perfect time to do it. I suggest jewelry.”
“How about an engagement ring?”
“Or, a necklace,” she said. She stood up, closed her books, and shoved them in her bag, “C’mon. My brain is full, so it’s time for a break. Let’s grab your guards and go shopping.” The guard in question that had replaced Jasper was off to the side, looking frozen, and put out but not saying a word.
“Alright,” I said, “if you say so.”
“We’ll take your car.”
She shouldered her bag, and the two of us walked across the frozen, cobble stone path for the quad to the parking lot where my guard’s car was parked. Then, we drove to Owaine’s center where The Kings Arcade was. It was a mall that had been first built in 1819, and had survived everything from fires, looting, and two world wars.
It was three stories, filled with every kind of shop imaginable. It also had one of the worlds first elevators inside it, designed by Alexander Miles himself especially for my great, great, great grandfather.
“Do you really think I’m going to find something that says I love you, be mine forever in a mall?” I asked, as we stood outside it.
She shrugged. “Maybe not, but we might find something that says you should shag me now because of how eternally grateful you are.”
I smirked. “I like that plan.” Then I paused, remembering who I was talking to. Gwyneth had been the girl I’d obsessed over for years, the one I had thought would be my Queen once upon a time. “You know this means that we’re not going to be able to hook up this year.”
She smiled. “It’s okay, Cadoc. I get it. I approve. If I didn’t, I would-be full-on Regina George right now when it came to you and this girl. But you’re in love. It’s okay. As long as she doesn’t break your heart. Or vice versa, because you know she’s actually a pretty cool girl.”
“She is, isn’t she?”
She nodded. “Now let’s go get said cool girl a present that will make her horny with gratitude, alright?”
She took my hand, and we wandered through the shops together. After a while, they were all beginning to blur. Nothing seemed right. I wanted something simple, understated but beautiful. Like Pen.
“Nothing seems right,” I grumbled as we exited what must have been the hundredth shop.
“Or, you’re just being picky,” said Gwyneth, “you’re the Prince of Wales. You could have bought anything we just saw.”
“It has to fit Pen,” I said, “and if it’s too glamorous or too expensive she won’t take it.”
“I think you don’t know what to get her.”
“It is entirely possible that I might not.”
“Well, what does she like?”
I tried to think of something Pen would like. Something that would represent both her, and me, that she could wear without it being too obvious who it was from.
“Also, does she know it’s your birthday?” Gwyneth asked. “New Years?”
I smirked. “I haven’t exactly told her yet. I didn’t want to make it about that.”
“Cadoc!” Gwyneth swatted me. “You can’t not tell her about it being your birthday.”
“If I told her, she wouldn’t come,” I insisted, “she’ll think that she has to get me something, and I don’t want her to feel out of place.”
“She’s going to figure it out. What with the birthday ball, and the celebrations and everything?”
“All I want for my birthday is for her to be there,” I said, “and for her to have something of me.”
“Don’t think she’s going to appreciate being the last to know.”
“I’ll tell her, just not before she’s already in a guest room at the palace,” I said.
“She’s going to be pissed.”
“I just want her to see that I don’t care what she can or can’t give me, I just want her.”
Gwyneth smiled. “I know what you can get her! Come on!”
“What, you think we’re going to find it at primark?”
“No, we’re not going to find it in the mall. C’mon, Little Prince.”
“Gwyneth!”
She refused to tell me, despite my protesting. She dragged me from the mall, down the main streets, until we stopped in front of a dingy little building that said Tattoo Parlor.
“You’re cracked,” I said, “the entire point of this was to get something for her. I want to see something of me with her.”
“This is more romantic, and you’ll have an excuse to show her your bare chest,” said Gwyneth, “you’ve got a good chest, Cade.”
I smirked. “I’m aware of that. Doesn’t mean I want to ink it up. Besides, the King would hate it, and the Queen would be horrified.”
“Well, it’s not about the King and Queen. It’s about you and Pen. You’ve got to show her that you’re in for the long haul.”
“What would I even get?”
“I’ve got the perfect thing, if you trust me.”
“You’re a mad woman! Why should I trust you?”
“Because madness leads to brilliance as often as it does insanity,” she told me, “c’mon, Little Prince.”
She dragged me a long inside, before I could even object. I found myself forced into a black, leather chair. The tattooist, a woman with inky, black hair, shot me a side long glance but if she recognized me, she said nothing.
Gwyneth whispered something in the woman’s ear, the woman smiled, and Gwyneth shoved her black card into the woman’s hand. The irony of my girlfriend paying for a tattoo to impress another girl was not lost on me. But Gwyneth Godford marched to the beat of her own drummer. Once she got an idea in her head, there was no stopping her. It was how our entire relationship worked.
For as long as I’d known her, she’d wanted to be the first Female Prime Minister of Wales. I had hoped to change her mind. Want to be my Queen. But she’d remained, steadfast to her dream.
Always reminding me that we were temporary.
That heartbreak would come eventually.
Even though there was so much left unsaid between Pen and I, I didn’t feel that way with her. I looked at her, and I saw the future. If getting ink on my skin helped me keep her forever, then I would do it.
Whatever it was.
I closed my eyes, and I thought of Pen’s face as the tattooist inked my skin. It seemed like an hour, but about fifteen minutes later, she was cleaning it off so that I could see the fresh ink.
Forever and a day.
Shakespeare.
How I felt about Pen, in a few words.
“Well?” Gwyneth stood off to the side, a knowing smirk on her face.
“I hate that you’re right,” I said, “it’s good.”
“I know,” she said, “this is why when the time comes, I’m going to be your first female Prime Minister, Little Prince. I know what works and what doesn’t. You two work.”
“You really think so?” I asked.
“She looks at you like you’re heaven, and you look at her like she’s the angel opening the pearly gates to take you both there,” Gwyneth said, “you’ll be just fine.”
The tattooist put a bandage on my arm. “Cute couples tattoo,” she said, “you want a matching one?” she looked at Gwyneth expectantly.
Gwyneth laughed. “Oh, I’m not his girlfriend. I’m his ex.”
“Who’s the tattoo for, then?” she asked.
“His true love,” she said with a smile.
I wanted to tell her that she was a mad woman who didn’t know what she was talking about. But that wasn’t the case.
I’d love Penelope Peters, for however long it took. Forever and a day, as Shakespeare said.
The tattooist looked perplexed but said nothing. I left with my freshly inked arm.
“You know, I still have to find her a present,” I told Gwyneth as we stepped from the tattoo parlor. “The tattoo is a nice gesture, but I want something of me on her for all of the world to see.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Gwyneth, “I’ve an idea, but it isn’t anything that you can get in a shop, and you’ll probably have to appeal to the Queen for it.”
I winced. “She’ll get the wrong idea.”
“Is it really the wrong idea, though?” said Gwyneth. “I know you Cadoc. You won’t stop until this girl is yours. One way or another. Why do you think I made you ink it on your skin? So that you wouldn’t forget it. It’s also why I’m releasing you from any boyfriend obligations going forward. From now on, we’re just friends.”
I stared at her. “You sure that’s what you want? I feel like I f****d us up.”
“You didn’t, Cadoc.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Trust me. We’ve always known what we were to each other. You were a good first love, but this is where our story ends. You’ve always known that.”
I sighed. She was right. Yet even though Pen was my future, there was still something a little heartbreaking about Gwyneth. She had been my first love. My first kiss. The girl I’d lost my virginity to.
“Yeah, I have,” I admitted, “you really think I can win her over?”
“I know you can,” said Gwyneth smiling.
- Writer
