A Royal Fool

Today, I brought shame upon my family in a manner so public and humiliating that I fear it will never be forgotten. Standing before the Queen, in the full view of the court, I faltered and stammered like a fool. The weight of every gaze bore down on me as I failed to address Her Majesty properly. The exhaustion from our recent arrival in Donlon, combined with the unrelenting memories of The Three Days, left me vulnerable and unfocused. What should have been a simple, routine presentation turned into a disaster that has left me reeling.
 
As I stood there, attempting to find the right words, my mind betrayed me. I was plagued by flashbacks of the Tower of Gore, of the rage I felt and the things I did in that dark place. The blood, the screams—they have haunted me since, and today they chose the worst possible moment to resurface. I could barely string together a coherent sentence as I approached the Queen, my thoughts a tangled mess of past horrors and present anxieties. The silence that followed my stumbling introduction was deafening, a void filled only by the weight of my own failure. My uncle, who had so proudly brought me to court, was humiliated. The look of disappointment in his eyes was unbearable.
 
Nicholas was there, watching with his usual cold detachment. Our relationship has never been close, and today, I could feel the distance between us widen even further. I could sense his judgment, his disdain for my inability to handle such a simple task. He has never believed in my capacity to lead, and today I gave him every reason to doubt me even more. His silent reproach was a knife to my heart, cutting deeper than any words could.
 
Elinor, too, witnessed my failure. She has always questioned my decisions, and now I have provided her with ample evidence to support her doubts. Her silence afterward spoke volumes—she, like Nicholas, saw me as a liability rather than an asset to this family. I wanted so desperately to prove myself to them, but instead, I only confirmed their worst fears.
 
But perhaps the most painful part of the day was my encounter with Dove. My feelings for her are a source of both comfort and torment. I care for her deeply, more than I have ever cared for anyone, and yet I find myself constantly at odds with her. After the disastrous meeting with the Queen, Dove and I had a heated argument that left me feeling more hollow than ever. She was furious that I had not listened to her when she insisted I seek help from Elinor and Nicholas during the search for my uncle. She believed I was too stubborn, too focused on doing things my way, and that my refusal to involve them had put everyone at greater risk.
 
The truth is, I did not want to involve Elinor and Nicholas—not because of any deep-seated insecurities, but because I wanted to stand side by side with Dove, to show her that I could be a partner in the challenges we faced together. I wanted her to see me as an equal, someone she could trust and rely on, someone who would share the burden rather than pass it on to others. But instead, I ended up pushing her away, and our argument only reinforced the growing distance between us. Dove’s frustration with me was clear, and I could see the concern in her eyes, but it was overshadowed by her anger that I had not heeded her advice.
 
She was right to be upset—I should have listened to her, but in my desire to be the one who could stand by her side, I ignored her pleas. It was a mistake, and now I am left to deal with the consequences. Dove means more to me than I can express, but I fear that my actions are driving a wedge between us that I may never be able to remove.
 
After our fight, I could not bring myself to face her again. I retreated to my chambers, where I have spent the remainder of the day brooding over my failures. My thoughts are a tangled mess, a swirling vortex of regret, anger, and despair. I keep replaying the events of the day over and over in my mind, searching for some way I could have salvaged the situation, but no matter how I twist and turn the events, the outcome remains the same—I have failed, utterly and completely.
 
The shame of my actions weighs heavily upon me. I can still see the look in Dove’s eyes, the frustration mixed with concern, and it tears at my heart. I love her, but I fear that love is not enough. She deserves someone who will listen to her, someone who will respect her judgment and trust her instincts. I want to be that person, but I cannot help but feel that I am falling short at every turn.
 
The only solace I have found today is in the knowledge that Edwin is taking some well-deserved time away. His loyalty and hard work during The Three Days were nothing short of extraordinary, and while I struggle to keep myself together, I find comfort in knowing that at least one person in this house has not been tainted by my failures. Edwin has been my rock, my steadfast companion in all things, and I can only hope that he enjoys the time off I arranged for him. He deserves it more than anyone.
 
As for me, I do not know what the future holds. My mind is in turmoil, my heart heavy with the weight of my own inadequacies. I fear that I am losing everything I have worked so hard to achieve—my family’s respect, Dove’s affection, my own sense of self-worth. But no matter how bleak things may seem, I know I must find a way to carry on. I cannot allow this day to define me, no matter how humiliating it may have been. I must find the strength to move forward, to prove that I am capable, that I am worthy of the role I have been given.
 
Tomorrow is a new day, and I can only hope that it will bring with it a chance for redemption. Until then, I must endure the shame and disappointment that weigh so heavily upon me.
 
Dominic Sterling