His Royal Hash Pipe


Prince Edward Did Not Drink the Koolaid…
But He Did Drink the Bong Water!
Exclusive Pictures You Have to See to Believe



There’s a reason His Royal Highness Prince Edward is our favorite. In the past few years, pictures have surfaced of the Spare to the Heir doing just about everything from snorting coke to donning inappropriate Halloween costumes. We’d thought that by now, it would be impossible for Prince Edward to shock us.

We were wrong.

The below photos show what is clearly Prince Edward drinking what appears to be bong water. That’s just…yeah. It even grosses us out.

Though we’re not sure exactly when these pictures were taken, the iPad on the end table in the background tells us they can’t be more than two years old, making it impossible for His Royal Highness to have been any younger than twenty-six. It also makes it impossible for the Palace to explain this away as a young man’s university follies as they have in the past.

Perhaps another “humanitarian mission” is in order.

COMMENTS (showing 5 of 187)

Lady In Waiting

ewwwww! okay i don’t care how hot he is, that’s just foul. and Sourly Mallory is standing there next to him. i hope he didn’t expect her to kiss him after that. Yuck!

My Narcissistic Alias

Look at the size of that thing! I’m amazed he could fit his mouth around it.

Anon

That’s what she said!

Royal Watcher 1

Meanwhile, in Afghanistan…

His Royal Gayness

If he can swallow that without gagging, imagine the possibilities! RAWR






His kiss—my god, his kiss! It’s urgent and greedy, as if it’s something he needs rather than something he’s doing. I can’t remember the last time kissing someone felt like this.

I don’t think it ever has.

It’s enough to make me forget where I am and whom I’m with, until I feel his hand slide into the back of my jeans. Reality slaps me in the face—and that’s exactly what I do to him.

“Ow!” His hand flies to his cheek, covering the red mark from where I just hit him. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“I should be asking you the same thing!”

“Well…” He moves his hand away from his face and smiles. “I had to shut you up somehow.”

“Hold it, Your Highness.” I rest my back against the arm of the sofa and look at him in disbelief. “You kissed me to shut me up?”

I don’t believe him for a second.

Granted, it’s been a long time since I’ve kissed anyone—I’ve never been the casual hook-up type, and since my career has always taken priority over my personal life, relationships are rare. Despite the fact I don’t get out much, I know the difference between a kiss from a guy who’s into you and a kiss from a guy who’s into what you can do for him. As much as it pains me to admit it, I have way more experience with the latter. This is why I don’t mind putting dating on the backburner. There’ve been way too many guys pretending they want me when what they really want is a corner office at Dot Swan—or at least, that’s what the more ambitious ones want. Those with less lofty aspirations just want a meal ticket. I’ve never let things get out of hand with an opportunist, but I’ve kissed enough of them to know when a guy wasn’t into it.

His Royal Heinous was definitely into it. It’s whether that means he was into me or into getting laid that remains to be seen.

“It’s kind of funny,” he says. “I’m not in the habit of kissing anyone without a signed non-disclosure agreement, but you were ranting like a shrew, and though I’m a very patient person, even I can only take so much.”

If he expects me to believe this, he’s out of his damned mind.

“Okay, Your Highness. Let’s pretend for a moment that you weren’t the one talking when you decided to stick your tongue in my mouth. If you only kissed me to shut me up, why did you then proceed to shove your hand down the back my jeans?”

He shrugs. “Seemed like a good a idea at the time. I mean, you were talking out of your ass.”

My face heats up, and I can feel my vein pulsing in my neck. “How dare you!”

He throws back his head, laughing. “I can’t believe you’re getting this worked up over a handful of blog entries and a few unflattering pictures.”

“Right, Your Highness. My being upset has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that you assaulted me.”

I assaulted you? Need I remind you my left cheek is currently sporting your handprint?”

“A lady has the right to defend herself, Sir.”

“Against what? Because if the way you were hanging onto me is any indication, it’s safe to say you were enjoying yourself.”

“I…you…ugh!”

“You know what you need?” He leans back against the sofa and reaches for the front of his jeans.

For a moment, I think I’m about to become acquainted with His Royal Penis. Then his hand vanishes inside his front pocket from which he produces a small metal pipe, a lighter, and a bag of what I assume is marijuana.

“Uh, no,” I tell him.

“No?”

The look on his face makes me think it’s a word he’s isn’t used to hearing. Then again, it could be the whole proper-method-of-addressing-him thing. Calling him Sir after his tongue was in my mouth is annoying, but at least he isn’t making me get up and curtsy.

“No, Sir.”

He sighs. “I meant are you sure you don’t want to smoke?”

“Yes, Sir. Anything that was recently in your trousers has no business being inside my mouth.”

“Your loss,” he says, laughing.

“I seriously doubt that, Sir.”

With a level of efficiency that could only come from years of practice, he breaks the weed up with his fingers, packs it into the end of the pipe, then reaches for the lighter.

“Whoa,” I say. “You’re just going to light up here?”

His eyes narrow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It would be rude of you, Sir.”

“Is that what this is about? Don’t worry; I’ll smoke you out.”

Not sure what he’s talking about, I stare at my hands in my lap as I swing my foot back and forth.

“Ladies first,” he says, offering me the pipe and the lighter.

“What does it do, Sir?”

“You mean you’ve never smoked?”

I shake my head. “Only the occasional cigarette.”

“It will help you relax.”

“I don’t think anything could make me relax around you, Sir. Besides…” I gesture to the pipe. “I don’t even know what to do with that.”

“It’s okay; I’ll help you.”

It’s a little unsettling that the first time His Royal Perpetually High-ness behaves at all chivalrously toward me, it involves assisting me in the partaking of substances that could impair my judgment. Then again, it’s not as if I’m not curious about it. To be honest, that I haven’t tried weed before now is more because of lack of opportunity than anything else.

But it’s being offered, so I try it.

By the time Edward and I finish smoking His Royal Hash Pipe, my throat is raw and my mouth is dry. Other than that, I feel exactly the same. Meanwhile, Edward’s kicked off his shoes and moved from the sofa to the floor, where he’s sitting crossed-legged with his eyes closed, drumming his fingertips against his thighs.

“Seriously, Sir?” I reach for my wine glass. “This is it? Shouldn’t I be seeing lava lamps when I close my eyes or something?”

He looks at me and shrugs. “No one feels much of anything the first time they smoke, and if they do, it takes a while for it to kick in. Besides, we’re talking about pot here—it’s not as if you just shroomed.”

“If no one feels anything the first time they smoke, why does anyone bother trying it a second time?”

“Why does anyone do anything?” He leans forward and pats the floor in front of him. “Come sit with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to talk to you and I don’t feel like yelling across the room.”

At least he’s not asking me to curtsy again. Sighing, I get up from the couch and join him on the floor.

“Much better,” he says, smiling.

“So what do you want to talk about, Sir?”

He wrinkles his forehead. “Huh?”

“You said you wanted to talk to me—”

“See, it’s not all bad, is it?”

“What?”

“Being here…at the Palace…with me.”

“If I remember correctly, you weren’t exactly thrilled with the prospect yourself.”

“I meant last night. You wouldn’t stay for dinner…”

I lower my eyes. I’m not sure what to say to that.

“Pretty,” he mutters.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“When you were looking down just now—your hair fell toward your face, and it was pretty.”

It seems like a genuine compliment, so I treat it as such. What I don’t understand is why I’m blushing.

“Thank you, Sir.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “I hate being here.”

“Nothing is stopping you from going back to your apartment.”

“No, I mean The Westerlands in general.”

“Oh.”

“Do you really hate me?” His green eyes are glassed over, but that does nothing to diminish the intensity of his stare.

“Sometimes,” I admit.

The look on his face makes me regret being honest.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

He starts laughing hysterically, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s so funny.

“When are you going to stop that?” he asks. “I keep waiting for you to let it go…” Still laughing, he clutches his stomach.

I don’t think I’ll ever be in on the joke, so in the absence of anything else to do, I pour myself another glass of wine. When I turn back to him, he’s refilling his pipe.

He offers it to me. “It’s up to you, but you probably shouldn’t. You may not think you feel anything now, but sometimes the high can sneak up on you.”

“Thank you, Sir, but I’m good.”

“Under the circumstances, that’s probably for the best.”

I study him as he smokes. His fingers are long, his lips full. Part of me wishes he’d kiss me again, the rest of me is glad he seems to be behaving himself.

“You shouldn’t let the tabloids bother you.”

Okay, Your Royal Non Sequitur.

“My mother was the same way,” he continues. “She’d see the headlines and get so upset…if you don’t let them get to you, they have no power. ”

I ignore the fact he mentioned Princess Elizabeth. I know from Esme that neither he nor Carlisle like to talk about her—all these years later, it still hurts too much.

“I’m trying to figure out what the tabloids have to do with the current topic of conversation.”

“You seemed genuinely distraught earlier.”

“I was.”

“That’s the thing—if I’d known stopping by your office would create all these problems for you, I would have waited until the next time you visited Esme to apologize to you. There’s a lot I could say about the night we met—how that kind of behavior isn’t normal for me, that I’d recently gotten some pretty bad news…” He shrugs.

“But you can’t because I didn’t sign the NDA.”

“Even if you had, I don’t think it would matter. For what it’s worth—and I admit after everything that’s happened in the past two days it’s probably not worth much—I am sorry.”

There’s something about his voice that leaves no question of his sincerity.

“Thank you,” I say. “That means a lot to me.”

For a while we sit there looking at each other, but this time it’s different—softer. It makes me feel exposed, which makes me want to drink. Unfortunately, my glass is empty, and so is the only bottle of wine within arm’s reach.

I put my hand on the coffee table and push myself to my feet. Though I wasn’t dizzy before, all of sudden, balance isn’t coming easily to me. I’m about to crash into the floor when I feel Edward’s arms close around me.

“I don’t get it.” I lean my back against his chest. “I didn’t drink enough to be this drunk.”

“Believe me, Bella; you’re not drunk.”

“Then why can’t I walk?”

My feet no longer touch the ground, but somehow I’m moving anyway.

“Wait. You’re carrying me?”

He laughs. “You weren’t having much luck standing on your own.”

I can’t argue with him there.

It takes me a while, but eventually I get my bearings on my surroundings. I’m not sure where I am, but this corridor is far too grand to be part of Esme’s apartment.

“Where are we going?”

“To my apartment. I think it’s time I put you to bed.”





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8 Responses

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  1. on 02 Jul 2012 at 5:51 amriya

    This is AWESOME.

    [Reply]


  2. on 03 Jul 2012 at 3:04 amSana

    I love love love this story. How old is Bella BTW? I’m guessing Prince Edward is 28, at the latest?

    [Reply]

    Valentina reply:

    HRH is twenty-eight, as is Bella.

    [Reply]


  3. on 04 Jul 2012 at 6:47 pmAnnie

    Is there any chance that Carlisle won’t become king? Not that I don’t like a King Carlisle but I’d like a King Edward much (much much) more. :)

    [Reply]

    Valentina reply:

    Technically, not unless he dies before producing an heir. But the name of the fic is “The Heir and the Spare”. Take from this what you will. (And nothing in anything I write is random)

    [Reply]


  4. on 09 Jul 2012 at 11:34 pmcat5050

    Darling! Waiting for the next, so just came back and read this again. I MAY be one of those royal stalkers that we meet at the first of every chapter ;-)

    [Reply]

    Valentina reply:

    Oh, thank you. We were on vacation last week and my husband is so rarely off from work, it felt wrong to focus on writing over family time. I’m getting on it now, though. Shooting for tomorrow.

    [Reply]


  5. on 04 Nov 2012 at 2:27 pmFaith

    I love this story!

    [Reply]