My mistake

Rowan's POV

I'm seventeen but I'm burdened with a different kind of pressure. The kind of pressure for people twice my age.

Why should I care about my family name, reputation and legacy? I'm not even the first son, I'm not even the next of kin but in some ways, I'm still burdened by my parents, the queen and the king.

The buzzing sound of the club couldn't kill the thudding in my chest. Instead, they added to it, making it harder for me to breathe. Just like always, my hand unconsciously went to my chest, squeezing it as if it could take the pain away. Never. Never had it taken the pain away.

“Rowan!” I heard my name but I wasn't interested in some teenage yapping at the moment.

“Rowan Ashbourne,” he called again, causing me to turn.

“What did fuck are you doing outside the palace? Shouldn't you be in the courtyard, learning how to serve the people?” The nuisance said with an annoying smile on his face.

I scoffed, feeling irritation brewing from within me. Making use of the first lesson I learnt from my brother, I ignored the idiot. “Ignore hateful comments. They are jealous of what they can't have.” My brother's voice rang in my head.

“Is ignoring your subjects part of the royal traits?” the idiot said again.

He wanted a reaction. I knew that was his aim but I don't want to give it to him. I don't want to see the idiot succeed, not even in the slightest bit.

However, my gaze landed on him, from his foot, his dirty boots to his ripped jeans,to his shirt. Then I finally stopped at his face. He had a knowing smirk on his face. The corky type that shows a troublemaker. I know a douchebag when I see one.

“Rowan!” I said to myself. “Don't let this nuisance get to you. Ignore him like you've been doing to others.”

My hand flew to the back of my head, my fingers digging into my neck as if scratching could calm the irritation crawling under my skin. But it didn't. Nothing worked. I didn’t know what else to do, so I stood up, ready to leave the trouble maker and the club in general because at this point, I'll do anything to get away.

Then to my biggest surprise, he shoved me back and I landed right back on the sofa. The contact sent a sharp rush of anger through me.

I stiffened, heat flaring in my chest. Did he really just touch me? The audacity of it made my jaw clench. He laid his hand on me… of all people. I'm a fucking prince, and this idiot thought he could lay his hands on me like I was nothing.

Well, for me, action speaks better. Before my mind could catch up, my fist was already moving. The first punch I threw connected with his face. It was remarkably solid and sharp, something he could never forget.

I didn’t even bother to see his reaction as rage roared too loudly in my ears. He swung back, but my instinct took over. I slipped aside easily, leaving him to stagger like a drunk that he was. I hadn’t endured years of royal discipline and military drills for nothing.

I struck again, sharper and faster this time. My knuckles met his chin with a satisfying crack, and he stumbled back, coughing as blood spilled from his mouth.

He bent, one hand gripping his knee as he struggled to drag air back into his lungs. That image burned into my mind, causing a smirk to play on my face. This was one of my little victories. Just as similar as riding a horse or hitting the bullseye during archery.

Then, without warning, something or someone slammed into my face. The pain was sharp and unexpectedly painful. Everything became blurry. My vision and my brain struggled to decipher what just happened. The world made it worse by tilting as I fought to stay upright.

When my senses returned, the sound around me had changed. The pounding club music was gone, replaced by cheers and boos crashing over each other. Then I noticed the lights flashed from camera phones raised, recording and judging. Their faces blurred together. Their mouths moved, shouting words I couldn’t hear or understand.

And in that moment, standing in the middle of the chaos I had created, it hit me. I had messed up. Completely. And there was no taking this back.

*****

“What were you thinking, Rowan?” My brother's voice was the first thing I heard when I entered the palace.

I didn't say anything. My explanation didn't matter in cases like this. The video on the internet was everything they needed to push the blame on me.

“What happened to ignoring haters because they are jealous of what you have?” My brother said, the heat radiating through the room.

Whenever I tried to keep quiet while my brother yelled at me, my body betrayed me. My lips curled in that strange, but familiar way, and my hand slid to the back of my head, rubbing my neck. It was a signal and he knew too well. Whenever I did that, there would be no answer. Not even a single word from me.

Mr Wilson, the butler seemed to recognize it too. Before my brother could bark another question or judgement, he stepped in smoothly as if he had been waiting for the moment all day long.

“Prince Henry,” he said calmly, “don’t you think it would be better for Prince Rowan to begin preparing for his press release?”

That damn press release! The one that's filled with lies and things I don't want to do.

My brother's shoulders relaxed as he exhaled sharply. “The Queen would be here shortly,” he said, pretending to be calm.

I know he was far from calm. I know he was already thinking of a way or more ways to get me out of the mess I created for myself. I know he would do anything to protect me from the consequences of my actions. He was my big brother after all.

But what he said next shattered every ounce of hope in me. “This time, I'll make sure you face the consequences of your actions. You are not a kid anymore, Rowan. You're almost eighteen.”

“What?” The sound escaped my lips before I knew it.

Henry didn't answer. He turned, walking away when I was not even done talking.

“We are still having a conversation here!” I barked, feeling a new wave of rage burning through me.

He stopped, turned to look at me. A questioning look plastered on his face. “Earlier, you were not interested in having a conversation.”

“Now, I am,” I replied.

“Now, I'm not.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me in confusion.

“You need a change of clothes before the queen's arrival,” Mr Wilson said as if that was important to me.

“Maybe I need to change my family,” I spat before storming out of his presence.