"Mitchell!"

"Michael!"

"Matthew!"

"Mason!"

"Micah!"

"Milo!"

"Miko!"

The seven princes made their way into the room.

Each one had dark brown hair and rich, chocolate eyes with skin that had been kissed delicately by the sun. They looked similar but each had their individual qualities ranging from Micah's golden freckles to Mitchell's dazzling piercings.

Their bodies were decorated by the finest fabrics, deep forests of velvet to sparkling skies of silk. The princes arrived in front of their father and lined up in order.

The King- their father- surveyed them from left to right, oldest to youngest.

Matthew and Michael's stances were strong and confident, standing with experience on their shoulders and muscles on their arms. Built like bulls and as tough as leather, they were the brawn of the Grassi family.

Of the crown they were the sturdy gold base, holding everything else up with their resilience and bravery to win.

Continuing along the line the King observed the next set of twins. Mason and Micah were two years younger than the last couple but twice the brains. Their minds had more strength then their arms; their intelligence outweighing their muscles.

Of the crown they were the adhesives that kept the intricate details and structures together. They went slightly unnoticed yet without them the crown was useless.

The next pair in the line were Milo and Miko, the youngest set of twins who had recently turned twenty one. Their beauty shone past the money they wore, they could make even the ugliest of sacks look like angelic cashmere. Angular jawlines and manly features graced their faces and everything about them was symmetrical.

Of the crown they were the jewels.

That left the last of the Grassi princes.

Mitchell was not a twin. He was not impressively strong nor incredibly smart.

His beauty was extremely different to his brothers. Where they were masculine, he was feminine, where other men looked up to them, they looked down upon him. He was the shortest and the most unique out of his brothers.

As his father described him: Mitchell was 'alternative'.

He had piercing and tattoos, he had shaved half of his head, and he spoke like he was anything but royalty. The words he coined made no sense to anyone in the palace yet he was never deterred.

"In one week Mitchell will turn eighteen. Therefore you will all be of age and ready to marry."

Matthew and Michael had been awaiting this day for many years as they were now 25 years old. They had lived the bachelor-life since eighteen and were ready to search for an obedient wife to cater for their needs.

Micah and Mason were very enthusiastic about the opportunity as socialising with girls did not come easily to them. Being tied to one by a ring seemed a lot better than having to go out and actually seduce one.

Milo and Miko, being fresh out of their teens, were more than looking forward to finding themselves a wife. They were the most handsome of the Grassi princes so were the subject of many rich women's affections.

And then there was Mitchell.

"This birthday celebration will be special. It is not only the last eighteenth birthday we will host, it will be the evening in which you announce your engagements to your future wives."

The Grassi brothers smirked and looked to each other in excitement. In one week they were going to have their own princesses and even more money and fame to add to their legacies.

Mitchell rolled his eyes and picked at his nails. Any talk of girls and his brothers started to drool.

"You must each find a lady of wealth or royalty that will care and respect you. She must attend the celebration next week and you all have the responsibility to purchase a suitable engagement ring."

Micah cleared his throat and silently raised his hand.

"What about the family ring? One of us must carrying it on." He questioned politely, lowering his hand back to his side.

The King straightened his back and turned away.

"You are correct. However it is not my duty to choose who will inherit it."

He turned back to face his sons and saw his wife's soul in each of them.

"I gave that ring to your mother. It is her... it was her duty."

The room hummed with sadness and the melancholy melody caught in everyone's mouths.

"I cannot make the decision now. You must give me time, my children. Time is the only way I can survived without your mother. One day you will learn the importance of having time in your life but for now you must trust me."

Eyes cast downwards at the thought of their late mother. Taken too soon by this world, by mutations inside her body that killed her from the inside. Cancer, the leech of life, ruining the richest family in the land.

"And now I am giving you time. Giving you one week to find the woman you will spend the rest of your life with. The carriages are ready for you. Your bags are packed and loaded, remember your swords and shields. Good luck."

They all nodded. Matthew rolled his shoulders and Milo touched his stubble. Michael flexed his arms and Mason pushed up his glasses.

They all looked down to Mitchell who was supposed to lead the line out. He did not move, however, simply stood watching his father who he knew was not finished.

The King held his head high and gave his last advice to his sons.

"And remember: you must only choose a human spouse. No witches, no trolls, I may accept fairies but wings can get very irritating. Human women are the only true option I wish for you."

Mitchell then turned towards the door and began to move. As he reached out to open the mahogany and brass, his father gave his last shout.

"And do not, do NOT, get involved in any curses!"

-----------------------------------

"Father?"

The King waved to the six carts as the horses rode away.

"Yes, son?" He answered quietly, his voice as harsh as the wind.

"Why didn't I go? Like, I'm not that bothered by it, but you could have told me." He said as he crossed his arms to protect him from Winter.

No reply came. After the last carriage left the yard, the King ushered his youngest son inside. The bitter air had numbed his fingers so the warmth of the palace was welcoming to say the least.

The staff dispersed back to their own rooms and to the kitchen to prepare for supper as Mitchell and the King entered the dining hall.

"Their quest will be difficult and I am not completely sure you are ready for it. Do not worry though, I gave Miko the task of finding you a wife." He sat down at the head of the table as his son stood next to him.

"Great."

The King frowned. "You do not seem pleased, my dear Mitchell."

Panic passed through him and penetrated painfully through his gut. The facade Mitchell had spent years creating was a solid as rock yet as transparent as glass.

"No, no, its fine. I'm just, you know, disappointed. I was looking forward to meeting some hot babes."

The King cheerfully chuckled. "You and your words, Mitchell."

Mitchell stood taller then, proud of himself for entertaining his father who had been sadden for so long.

"I have kept you here for many reasons. To protect you, to baby you, but mostly for my own sanity."

Insomnia and depression had pulled at his face, aged him twenty years in twenty days. Not one of his sons or any of the staff mentioned it to him. No notes on the new wrinkles or dark circles, nothing on his slumped posture or permanent scowl.

They smiled and spoke to him as if nothing has changed. As if the love of his life wasn't buried down the street. Holding flowers between her decaying digits, sleeping sweetly for the last time.

Ironic really. The King who had not slept for weeks loving a Queen who will never wake up.

"Your mother and I always had a soft spot for you. She told me to keep you safe, guard you from the world. Such a superstitious woman was your mother."

His smile clawed at his face falsely, his eyes motionless to the gesture. "Always had dreams about you getting into trouble. Every night I'd tell her she'd been drinking too much Imp Blood before she slept."

The conversation stabbed Mitchell through his chest. His father may have been joking and reminiscing but he may as well of shown Mitchell his mother's body. Thinking of her hurt him more than he would ever admit.

"I convinced her it was because of her Elf blood. Your mother was part Elf, you know. Rumours say they sit on people as they sleep to give them bad dreams."

The King had researched everything there was to know about them the moment his wife had told him.

"Apparently they cause all kinds of things. Vanishing, stolen children... disease."

It felt like breathing syrup. Uneasy breaths and uncomfortable heart beats had plagued the Grassi family since her diagnosis.

The night her Grim had appeared was it for Mitchell. He knew she was gone.

"I promised to protect you with my heart. I promised her that you would never live anything like you did in those dreams. They were fantasy but this is reality. Your reality."

Mitchell nodded stiffly and picked at his nails again.

"I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, Son."