Chapter 41 Royal Roast
Royal Roast
“Ijust want to go on record,” Sebastian announced, sprawling across the leather armchair in the estate’s billiards room, “that planning a stag party for the future King of Caledonia is the most creatively limiting exercise known to man.”
Alexander, who was lining up a shot at the pool table, paused. “I’m sorry my potential for international incidents cramped your style.”
“Oh, it absolutely did.” Sebastian took a long drink of his whiskey. “Do you want to know what we had to reject? Paintball—security nightmare. Enzo isn’t allowed back in Macau. PR didn’t like the optics of going to Vegas. Even bloody go-karting was deemed ‘too risky for insurance purposes.’”
“Go-karting?” Ethan asked, incredulous.
“Apparently future monarchs aren’t supposed to get into high-speed collisions for entertainment,” Sebastian replied dryly.
Lukas, who was methodically destroying everyone at cards, looked up. “Wait, so what did you settle on instead?”
“This.” Sebastian gestured around the room. “Scotch, cigars, and the most wholesome, scandal-free evening known to aristocracy.”
“Sounds positively dull,” Enzo observed.
“It is dull. Apparently, that’s what the palace wants.” Sebastian’s grin then turned wicked. “Which is why I took the liberty of adding one modern touch.”
He pulled out his phone with the air of a man about to commit a beautiful crime.
“Oh God, Sebastian,” Alexander said slowly, recognizing that particular expression. “What did you do?”
“I may have spent the afternoon curating the finest selection of mean tweets about you from the past year.” Sebastian’s smile was pure mischief. “Think of it as a royal roast. Very democratic.”
The room went quiet.
“You want me to read mean tweets about myself,” Alexander said flatly.
“I want you to read mean tweets about yourself out loud, for our entertainment, as your loyal friends mock you accordingly.” Sebastian’s grin widened. “It’s tradition.”
“What tradition?” Alexander demanded.
“New tradition. I’m starting it. Right now.”
Ethan clapped slowly. “This is either brilliant or the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“Both,” Sebastian confirmed cheerfully. “Lukas, you’re keeping score on comedic value. Enzo, you’re judging delivery. Ethan, you’re providing colour commentary.”
“And what are you doing?” Alexander asked.
“Enjoying myself immensely, along with acting as master of ceremonies,” Sebastian replied.
Alexander stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Okay, let’s get started. Give me the bloody phone.”
“Excellent.” Sebastian handed it over with ceremonial gravity. “Remember, commit to the performance. Really sell the devastation.”
Alexander glanced at the screen and his eyebrows shot up. “Christ, Sebastian, how many of these did you find?”
“Two hundred and thirty-seven. I was thorough.”
“This is going to be humiliating.”
“That’s the point,” Lukas said approvingly. “I believe humiliation builds character.”
“You also believe in Christmas demons,” Ethan pointed out.
“And I’m a better person for it.”
Alexander took the phone from Sebastian, cleared his throat, and looked around the room like a man about to face a firing squad.
“The things I do for friendship,” he muttered, then read the first tweet aloud.
“Alexander looks like a substitute teacher who really wants the class to like him.”
“I mean…” He hesitated, brow furrowing. “Better than being feared?”
“Disagree,” Sebastian said, lounging deeper into his chair. “Fear is efficient.”
Lukas didn’t even look up from his cards. “Also, this is a stag party, not a team-building retreat. Try again.”
Alexander sighed and scrolled to the next.
“King Alexander has the kind of face you want to punch and then immediately apologize to.”
Ethan doubled over laughing. “That’s art. Violence and guilt in one sentence.”
“Eight out of ten,” Lukas said, finally looking up. “Great emotional whiplash.”
Alexander arched a brow and read another.
“He’s definitely seen someone die and just never talks about it.”
He paused. “…That’s alarmingly specific.”
Lukas gave a single approving nod. “Nine. Because now I believe it.”
“This man is either a virgin or has an 800 body count. No in between.”
Alexander choked on his drink, coughing into his sleeve. “Jesus.”
“Ten out of ten,” Lukas said, absolutely delighted. “Internet chaos at its finest.”
“He looks like he’s been cursed by an ancient crown and hasn’t told anyone yet.”
“That wouldn’t be the worst part of the job,” Alexander muttered.
“Nine,” Lukas judged. “Extra point for lore potential.”
“He’s hot but in a scary way. He has that intense stare. Looks like he’d help you fix your sink and then kill you with the wrench.”
Ethan raised his glass. “These are unhinged, I love it.”
“I’m…” Alexander looked around the room, a little unnerved. “I’m disturbed by how often I’m being compared to murderers.”
“It’s the internet. You get used to it,” Sebastian said breezily.
Alexander shook his head and kept going, adopting the tone of a man who’d long since accepted his fate.
“‘Why does King Alexander always look like he’s about to apologize for existing? Sir, you literally own castles.’”
“See, that one’s almost nice,” Enzo pointed out.
“The roast requires contrast,” Sebastian explained. “Otherwise it’s just cruelty.”
“Five out of ten,” Lukas said. “Too kind for proper humiliation.”
Alexander continued through increasingly creative insults about his hair, his formal speaking voice, his tendency to overdress for casual events, and one particularly creative thread about how he probably apologizes to automatic doors.
“Okay, last one,” Alexander said, scrolling to Sebastian’s final selection.
“‘King Alexander looks like he practices his signature in case someone asks for an autograph but is too polite to actually give one unless specifically requested.’”
The laughter died as everyone realized how accurate that probably was.
“Do you?” Sebastian asked quietly.
Alexander hesitated, his usual composure flickering for a moment. “Sometimes.”
The admission hung in the air for a moment—honest, vulnerable, and suddenly not funny at all.
Sebastian looked at his half-brother—really looked at him—and felt something shift.
Alexander wasn’t just the king, or even just the brother who’d had everything Sebastian was denied.
He was a man who practiced signatures he was too modest to give and got roasted on the internet for being wholesome.
“For what it’s worth,” Sebastian said, his voice softer than usual, “they’re wrong about the apologizing for existing thing.”
Alexander looked surprised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re not. You’re just…” Sebastian paused, finding the words. “You’re trying to be worthy of it. Of all of it. Which is different.”
“That’s either very profound or complete bullshit,” Ethan observed.
“Both,” Sebastian confirmed. “But mostly profound.”
Alexander smiled—genuine, warm, and grateful. “Thanks, Seb.” It was the first time he’d used that nickname in years.
“Don’t mention it,” Sebastian said lightly, then cleared his throat and straightened up, his usual theatrical energy returning. “Right then. Now that we’ve had our heartwarming moment and I’ve officially gone soft—”
“Temporarily,” Ethan interjected.
“Temporarily soft,” Sebastian agreed, “let’s not forget our supporting cast deserves equal humiliation.”
He reached over and plucked the phone from Alexander’s hand with a flourish.
“Ethan Klein, everyone’s favorite cautionary tale. Here we go.”
He read the first tweet with unholy glee.
“He looks like he’s got seventeen different cryptocurrency wallets and has forgotten the password to all of them.”
Ethan laughed. “Well, not all of them.”
“Six out of ten,” Lukas announced. “Self-awareness is endearing but not hilarious.”
Sebastian grinned. “Let’s fix that.”
“This man has definitely caused a city-wide power outage because he tried to mine Bitcoin on his smart fridge.”
Ethan groaned. “Not entirely untrue.”
“Seven,” Lukas said. “It’s mean, but not that mean.”
“Now,” Sebastian continued, “onto Enzo—international man of mystery-slash-casanova”
He scrolled theatrically, then read:
“Enzo struts into every party like he’s auditioning for the role of ‘Most Likely to Steal Your Date and Your Drink.’”
“That’s not a roast,” Enzo said, unbothered. “That’s branding.”
“He delivers that line like he’s proud of it!” Ethan said. “Confidence is everything, folks.”
“Too smooth,” Lukas said. “Five out of ten. Needs more unhinged energy.”
Sebastian found it.
“Enzo looks like the reason someone’s dad lost all his money in a yacht-related Ponzi scheme and still thanked him for the experience.”
The room erupted.
“That’s slander,” Enzo said, laughing.
“Seven,” Lukas said. “Criminal elegance.”
“And now,” Ethan said, rubbing his hands together, “the moment we’ve all been waiting for—Sebastian, you smug bastard, you don’t escape this.”
Alexander took the phone back with ceremonial gravity, scrolled until he found the right one, and cleared his throat.
“Sebastian’s the type to start a revolution for the vibes and then ghost the group chat planning it.”
The room howled.
Sebastian clutched his chest. “How dare they.”
“That one hit on a spiritual level,” Enzo wheezed.
“Ten out of ten,” Lukas said. “The chaos. The complete lack of follow-through, classic.”
Alexander read the next one,
“Sebastian flirts like it’s a contact sport and apologizes like he’s reading cue cards.”
Sebastian blinked. “I don’t even apologize.”
“Exactly,” Alexander murmured, not looking up.
There was a beat of silence before Ethan leaned forward, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “Wait. Harper… is that you?”
Laughter broke out around the room.
“Honestly?” Enzo said, raising his glass. “If anyone has the material, it’s her.”
“She has a notes app,” Lukas added. “I guarantee it.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it.
“And finally,” Sebastian said, taking the phone back with relish,
“Lukas von Hollenberg looks like he killed someone and no one’s had the nerve to bring it up yet.’”
Lukas shrugged. “True. They were weak. Justice was served.”
Everyone froze. Ethan’s glass stopped halfway to his mouth. Enzo went very still. Alexander’s eyes widened. “…Kidding,” Lukas added, taking a casual sip of his drink.
The room erupted—not just laughter, but the kind of hysterical, relieved cackling that comes after genuine fear.
“Jesus Christ, Lukas!” Ethan gasped, clutching his chest.
“I actually started mentally reviewing our friendship,” Enzo wheezed.
“The pause was everything,” Alexander managed between breaths. “I was calculating escape routes.”
“Eleven out of ten,” Lukas said, scoring himself. “I terrified you all beautifully.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ethan announced, “we’ve just witnessed the performance of the evening!”
“I accept this honor,” Lukas said solemnly, raising his glass. “On behalf of the ghosts of my enemies.”
Alexander leaned back, the tension gone from his shoulders. “Well. That was horrifying.”
“I’m just saying,” Ethan added, “if we ever go missing, start with him.”
Sebastian raised his glass. “To horrifying truths, questionable fashion choices, and the glorious pettiness of the internet.”
“Cheers,” they all echoed, glasses clinking.
Alexander leaned back in his chair, watching his friends tear each other apart with surgical precision and obvious affection.
This was what Sebastian had given him—not just a stag party, but a reminder that beneath all the titles and scrutiny and impossible expectations, they were still just brothers who could laugh at themselves in a room full of people who cared about them.
It was, Alexander reflected, exactly what he’d needed.