Magnus arrived at SeaTac International Airport in Seattle just past midnight. After asking, he found his way to the car rental station to pick up his full-size SUV. He wanted to take advantage of the area to do some hiking, maybe skiing if he were still there when the conditions allowed and have the flexibility of camping out in the vehicle, just in case he found himself in a place where he wanted to spend more time. He’d read up a lot on the area, and it was his first visit to the Pacific Northwest. He was sure it would not disappoint.

After checking into the hotel, he pulled out his phone and looked at the current events. Europe was in a buzz; a critical summit was to take place shortly after the New Year. Important heads of state were starting to meet, trying to sway countries such as Martierra to vote in favor of topics which affected the mainland more than they did his home island.

Typically, Martierra would be a non-factor but the more powerful countries were split, and now his country’s vote was more important than ever.

King Ferdinand of Martierra yet again attends critical meetings regarding the upcoming European vote, and the heir to the throne, Crown Prince Magnus, is nowhere in sight. There are relevant topics that will most likely impact Prince Magnus’s reign once he is head of state of Martierra, and it looks like the Prince could care less.

Headlines and tabloids speculation and commentary pointed to one common question: do I care about the future of my country? Magnus thought I care. 

He put his phone on a wireless charger and got ready for bed.

Tomorrow is a new day, and I plan on making the most of my time here.

 

 

Magnus had wandered into a local coffee shop. “Good morning, what can I get started for you?” A chirpy young man asked from behind the counter.

“A cappuccino please and one of those muffins,” he said, pointing to a glass case.

“For here or to go?”

“For here.”

“Would you like your grain muffin toasted?”

“Toasted?” Magnus quizzically asked.  

He figured the employee, noticing his accent, was better off explaining to Magnus what toasting a muffin was all about.  

Magnus grabbed the local paper, The Seattle Times, and found a comfortable seat close to a fireplace. There were several patrons. Most were standing in line, ordering their drinks to go, and those who remained barely noticed their surroundings from behind a laptop.

Another employee arrived with his muffin on a plate and his cappuccino.

“That is my cappuccino?” he questioned.

“Yes. This is what you ordered, right?”

“Yes, but that is massive!” he exclaimed while examining the size of the wide-brimmed mug.

“You think?” the employee responded while chuckling and walking away.

The barista had created swirly coffee art, which Magnus slightly appreciated, but after taking a sip, he quickly realized the drink was lackluster. Not as strong as he was used to.

I suppose this will have to do, he thought to himself as he bit into his muffin. Now that is an excellent grain muffin. He smirked.

He’d planned on visiting the Chihuly Glass Museum, the EMP, and Space Needle, figuring he’d get the downtown touristy stuff out of the way before hitting the back roads for hiking and fishing. Yes, fishing! he told himself. Even though he was from an island, he never really went fishing, and he quite enjoyed it.

The King and Queen only used their public persona to support favorite causes. This was why his constant traveling and perceived lack of interest in all things ‘Royal’ were fascinating to the media. King Ferdinand once lectured him so much that Magnus responded with a “hey, at least people now remember us. Martierra is often forgotten, and I’m just reminding them we’re still on the map.” The King left in a fury at his son's comment.

The garden and glass museum was so inspiring; walking through the exhibitions allowed him to draw a comprehensive opinion on the significance of the work and the arts. They executed each piece with a great eye and precision. The colors and sculptures, absolutely magnifique! he thought.

The line to go up the Space Needle was long, so he skipped it, deciding to return another day. He wandered the streets of downtown Seattle, hiking up and down the hills until exhaustion and hunger overcame him enough to find a place to relax and grab a bite to eat.

A lovely, quaint restaurant with a delicious seafood menu was his choice as he ordered the crab cakes as a starter.

The overly-friendly young server kept checking in on him; he caught her whispering with another female server and giggling. Not that he wasn’t flattered that she found him attractive; it was a typical response from many of the opposite sex. Heck! Even my gay friends say I’m a hot commodity in their community. I must be doing something right? he thought humorously to himself.

“Were you going to order something to drink? We have a Happy Hour menu,” the cute blond inquired.

“Happy Hour? I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with the term.”

“Oh! Well, it means drinks are usually on discount or half-off,” she said flirtingly.

“I see. Thank you. No, I’ll pass. But I appreciate the inquiry.” He winked, causing her to fumble a small pad she was holding.

He grinned to himself as she walked away, knowing the effect he had on her. He’d tip her well, he thought, when his phone rang, and he quickly swiped to accept the call.

“Cossette, how are you? Is everything all right?” he inquired, shocked she was calling. He and Cossette were not close as siblings, and they kept their social circles exclusive of each other. They only put on smiles for the world, but really had nothing in common. It was late on the island, so he wasn’t sure what could be the issue.

“I’m fine. Look, I didn’t phone to make small talk,” she said in her distinctive British accent. “We have a problem on our hands, and Father is keeping it from you. He’s vowed to no longer pressure you, but I’ve made no such promise.”

“What is it?” he asked, pushing a glass of water aside.

“The media are having quite the adventure with a story coming out of your recent visit to Spain. Some woman named Paulina contends she is with child. Your child.”

The words shocked Magnus. “Paulina? I don’t know a Paulina.”

“Are you sure, dearest brother?”

“Positive!”

“There is a photo she’s released with her statement. I’ve seen it, and it looks real.”

There was an edge of enjoyment in his sister’s voice. There was no doubt in his mind she very much liked being the one to break this news.  

“I’m positive the story is fabricated,” he paused, “thank you, Cossette. I’ll take it from here.”

Without giving his sister an opportunity to reply, he immediately disconnected the call.

“Everything all right?” the server asked, to which he nodded his head, sending a message he’d rather not share. As soon as the young lady walked away, he got on the Internet to find out more about his alleged.

 

THE CROWN PRINCE OF MARTIERRA, MAGNUS DAHL, TO BE A FATHER?

 

The enigmatic Prince Magnus has been allegedly copulating with a Miss Paulina Vidal. The woman claims to be with child after spending two romantic nights with the Prince.

 

“The encounter was unexpected. We met by chance after I clumsily bumped into him at the hotel where we both were staying. I dropped my phone, and he graciously picked it up for me. Upon putting it in my hands, we stared deeply into each other’s eyes and had an immediate connection. I recognized who he was after a few moments, but I didn’t want to appear awestruck. I never imagined the days that followed. I also never imagined being with child. I wouldn’t come out with this information, but he left me with no alternative. Unfortunately, the number he’d given me isn’t real, and my attempts to contact him at the palace have been unsuccessful. I believe he has a right to know, but what he does is entirely up to him. I’m capable of raising my child on my own, but I’d rather his or her father also have the choice to be part of the child’s life.”

 

Magnus studied the photo. The woman wore sunglasses, and her dark hair fell around her face. It was hardly possible to recognize who she might be.

It was obvious he wasn’t posing for the photo. They were walking slightly in line with each other, and both turned toward the camera as if someone had called to them. There wasn’t anything romantic about it. It was in bright daylight and very much unassuming.

They had pegged him in false relationships in the past so that wouldn’t have been surprising. But a baby? That was something new and very harmful. He needed to start damage control immediately. As Magnus contemplated next steps, Bernard his secretary rang him.

“Bernard? So glad you called. I assume this is regarding the situation we have on hand?”

“Prince Magnus. Yes, indeed it is.”

Bernard was in his early thirties. Magnus had hired him against the King’s advice, to help him with his public image, slash, relations. Although the King opposed to hiring someone younger and less experienced in the way of a monarchy, Magnus had made the argument he needed someone who was more tech-savvy and ‘in the know.’

Magnus pressed on. “Bernard. So, what are we dealing with?”

“I’ve already prepared a statement on your behalf, denying the allegations.” There was a slight hesitation in his voice, and he asked, “It isn’t true, is it?”

“Of course not! I don’t even believe I know a Paulina. And under no circumstances did I have any rendezvous, romantic or otherwise, with any person while on my last trip to Spain. The woman is lying. I don’t know why, but it’s a complete fabrication.”

He’d allowed the media to exasperate him. How did I get here? He never thought he’d have to explain himself to his own secretary about not having had intercourse with a stranger.

“Understood. I’ll proceed with the press release I’ve already drafted which sticks to the agenda you had while visiting Spain on your last trip.”

“Yes. That’s fine. Please, call me with any new developments. Also, I would’ve appreciated that you had been the one to notify me of this calamity rather than Cossette.”

“The Princess phoned you, sir?” There was a particular question in Bernard’s voice.

“Yes, she did, just a few moments ago.”

“I see. Well then. Enjoy the rest of your trip, I’ll see that this get out to the appropriate media outlets as soon as possible. And I apologize for not bringing this to you straight away.”

“One last thing, Bernard. Please assure my father this is all a farce. This woman, for whatever mad reason, has made up this story. I may have my faults, but I would never put the family in such a compromising position.”

Those words were true. He loved his family too much to disappoint them like that.