Mathis was in a particularly bad mood that day. His parents had pulled him into his father's office to discuss his lack of interest in women of the court they had brought before him. They had explained to him, as they had time and time again, that he needed to marry a woman of high status, a woman that would benefit their family, either in alliance, or wealth and support. He was a twenty-four-year-old man, he was coming of age. His father told him how he would be taking the throne in a few years time, and how he needed a wife at his side before then. Mathis replied as he always did, stating he knew but he wasn't ready to settle down just yet. It was partly true. It wasn't ready to settle down with any of their choices. There had been a couple of lover of his passing that he had wished to marry, but alas, as crown prince, he could not. There would be no heir, and without an heir, there would be no one to take the throne after his passing. The curse of being born into the royal family, he couldn't fully be with anyone he wished to be. Mathis stalked out of the office, not bothering a look at the guards that followed behind him. He entered his suite and immediately went to the liquor he had stored. He didn't even bother with a glass, twisting the cap off of some bourbon and tipped it back, taking big gulps of it, welcoming the burn it brought.