𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 | ✎

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐

My leg bounces up and down anxiously as I wait for Sofia to finish getting me ready. She's on the last touch—adding white flowers to my braided hair. She's getting me ready for an important meeting with the Royal Court today, and I have a feeling it has something to do with me taking over the throne after marrying Prince Marco.

"Done!" Sofia smiles and steps back to admire her work. But she starts frowning when she notices the look on my face. "It's going to be alright, Princess," she whispers reassuringly. "You'll do just fine."

I let out a sigh of relief at Sofia's comforting words; however, the effect doesn't last long. I'm a nervous wreck. I barely enjoy being a princess as it is. The thought of becoming the next queen is still surreal to me, but I know I have no choice. I have to be strong and do what's right for Italy.

But then I suddenly feel a pain in my heart, as if someone's squeezing it with their hands. I groan and sink out of my seat, dropping onto my marble bedroom floor. Clutching my chest in pain, I gasp sharply for air.

Sofia comes down right beside me, putting a freshly manicured hand on my shoulder. "Deep breaths, Princess." The handmaid meets my gaze squarely, her presence enough to soothe me. "Breathe with me. One...two..." She pauses, and we both take the last breath. "Three. You're doing great."

After a few moments, my respiration returns to normal, and I stand up. I'm ready. Before I head out the door, though, I make sure to give Sofia a tight squeeze. She returns my loving embrace and whispers inspiring words in my ear. When she finally lets me go, I head out into the hallway.

Alex is leaning back against the wall in his midnight blue Brioni suit. The perfectly tailored jacket fits him like a glove, showcasing his broad shoulders and perfect physique. His dark blonde hair is tousled, yet it still looks neat. I also notice the small bandage on the side of his head from where he was bleeding after that incident two days ago. But those bright blue eyes of his look sharper than ever, taking away from the white bandage.

"Ready?" His hand extends out to me, and I take it immediately with a nod in response. He pulls me closer to him and walks with me to the throne room, where the Royal Court usually meets.

I can feel my anxiety spiking up, and my heart beats rapidly in my chest. My free hand starts fidgeting with my hair nervously, but Alex notices. "You don't have anything to worry about," he whispers in my ear. "I'm here."

While the words make my stomach do flips, I doubt any reassurance is going to take away from the fact that I'm going to have a mental breakdown any second. I've never been up in front of the Royal Court myself—I've only been there to watch the meetings that go in occasionally.

"I don't know," I suddenly blurted out. "What if it looks like I'm trying too hard? Oh my god, my hair. What if it's too fancy and it makes me look horri—"

Alex cuts off my rambling. "Stop that. You look gorgeous without even trying. You'll be fine."

I look down at the ground when I feel heat creep up on my cheeks. There is no way I'm blushing because of my bodyguard right now. I need to get a damn grip. Besides, he's just being nice. He doesn't actually mean it.

When we finally arrive at the throne room, I feel my heart sink lower into my stomach. My legs get even more wobbly, and for a moment I think I'm going to faint. Alex supports me with his arm underneath my shoulders, guiding me forward towards the grand set of doors.

A hush falls over the entire crowd in the room. All eyes are on me, and I instantly feel 10 times more self-conscious. I take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on my face, hoping that it looks natural.

But that smile disappears when I notice Marco's parents among the crowd. Now, with a scowl on my face, I glare at Queen Letizia in particular. She's shooting me a literal death stare and whispering things to her husband, which has my blood boiling.

Bitch.

"Everyone," my father begins, his naturally loud voice piercing into my ears, "as you all know, my daughter is to be married to Prince Marco de Rossi of Spain. With this being said, Italy and Spain will form alliances as soon as Marco takes over the throne."

My eyes go wide, and my heart sinks. There has to be some mistake here. "You can't do that!" I suddenly shouted, anger taking me over. "I'm your daughter and the rightful heir to the throne!"

Before my father can answer, Queen Letizia cuts me off with a harsh and bitter tone. "You are no longer fit to be queen," she spits out, and my rage turns into shock.

"What are you talking about?" I demand.

Her face turns red, and I can tell that she's angry. "Your recent behavior has not only been embarrassing, but it has brought shame to your country. You need to step back and let my son take over."

I feel a knot form in my stomach at her words, and the crowd starts murmuring amongst themselves. The other members present stared at me with wide eyes and expressions of disbelief. A few of them shake their heads and whisper to each other, but I can't make out what they're saying.

Alex, who is standing beside me, stiffens and squeezes my hand tighter. "Ignore them," he mumbles in my ear. If this is his attempt to calm me down, it's not working.

My head swerves back to my father, who is sitting on the throne, and I resist the urge to just run up to him and slap him. That would be very stupid. Instead, I continue to scream at him. "You're fucking insane! You're just going to hand the throne to Marco instead of your own blood? What about me?"

Queen Letizia chuckles, a sickening sound that sends shivers down my spine. "My Marco is more fit to rule Italy than you, a measly little girl who can barely keep herself together."

I clench my fists, my knuckles turning white. Multiple emotions are all hitting me at once, and I can feel a sharp pain in my chest. "Speak when spoken to, bitch," I snap at her.

The room is filled with gasps, while Queen Letizia's expression turns dark and menacing at my insult. She glares back at me with hatred in her eyes, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't satisfy me.

"That's enough." My father's words break the silent tension between me and the queen of Spain. "Elena, you will apologize at once for your behavior."

"Don't you dare tell me what to do," I retort, fed up with him. I don't care if he's my father. I don't care if he's the stupid king. I'm not going to allow him to take everything away from me anymore. "You're taking away EVERYTHING from me! Everything I was raised for!"

My mother, who's standing beside the throne, finally speaks up after all this time. "Cara mia, please calm down."

But I can't.

All I can feel is everyone in the room staring at me. Most people are looking at me in disgust. Others are looking at me like they pity me. Both of those things stress me out even more.

I wish I could stop caring about what others think.

But no matter how much I act like I don't, words affect me. They always have, and they always will. I'm damned to a life of suffering and bending to the will of the people around me. The people with power. It's funny how I'm a literal princess, and yet I still feel like the weakest person in this room.

Finally, I answered. "Mama, please." My voice is barely above a whisper. It's like a cry for help. She's my only hope.

My mother gulps and looks at my father. "Vic, I think we should—"

My father interrupts her with a deafening roar that echoes throughout the room. "SILENCE! You will not have any say in this conversation, Cassandra. Know your place." He stands up from the throne, all tall and mighty, not realizing what he just said was wrong. Honestly, I don't think he cares.

Instead of talking back to him, my mother just let out a startled squeak in response before nodding. She shoots a silent apology look my way—one that I know all too well.

"Mama!" I plead again, looking to her as a last resort. I muster the saddest, most gut-wrenching puppy dog eyes ever. Unfortunately, she doesn't meet my gaze. She's scared.

My mother bows her head down, anxiously twirling a strand of her hair around with her finger. "Cara mia, listen to your father," she adds softly.

I feel bad for my mother. She doesn't know how to stand up for herself, and I can see it in her eyes. My father treats both of us horribly. This might sound mean, but I really don't get what she ever saw in him.

The stress is getting to me, and I can't breathe properly. But I can't let any of that show to the other people in this room. I can't give my father the satisfaction of seeing me struggle. So instead of breaking down or hyperventilating, I take a series of deep breaths. I close my eyes and inhale slowly through my nose, then exhale even slower through my mouth. I repeat this process a total of five times before I start to feel my heart rate regulate.

After a few seconds, I open my eyes and lock my gaze on my father's. "You're going to regret this," I tell him, my voice shaking but still firm. "You're going to regret choosing Marco over me."

I don't know if the words I'm saying are true, but they sure as hell make me feel better. I feel powerful for the first time in a long time. And just the sight of my father getting slightly flustered is worth all the suffering I've had to endure in my life.

Queen Letizia, who is standing beside her husband, glares at me like I've killed her only child. She turns to King Felipe and whispers something to him. He gives me one last look before whispering something back to her.

I roll my eyes at them, but I can't help but fire back. "Speak up." I make sure to look directly at them, so they know I'm talking to them.

"Excuse me?" King Felipe asks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest. He's trying to look intimidating, but it's failing miserably.

"You heard me," I say through gritted teeth. "Speak. Up."

"ELENA!" my father bellows. "I don't want to hear another word from your mouth unless it's an apology." The way he stares daggers at me is so intense. It makes him look older than he already is.

I scoff mockingly. "Apology? You wanna know what I think about your apology?" I raise my hands and hold up both my middle fingers on display for everyone to see.

My father suddenly leaps up from his position, but Alex immediately pulls me back behind him. For the first time, I see pure and raw fear in the bodyguard's eyes. I've never seen him look so scared of anything before.

"Your Majesty, please," Alex says, clearing his throat. "I'll take the princess to her sleeping quarters. She's sorry."

I roll my eyes at Alex's words. He knows damn well I'm not sorry; he probably just doesn't want me to get hurt—which I seriously doubt I will.

My father, on the other hand, looks unconvinced at first. After a moment, he lets out a sigh. "Fine," he strains, "take her to her room and make sure she snaps out of her nonsense." After that, he waves his hand dismissively, allowing me and Alex to head out of the throne room.

The bodyguard takes my hand with a tight grip and leads me out of the throne room and down a long corridor to my room. The silence between us is tense, and the air feels heavy. It's like the silence is waiting for one of us to speak.

I don't think I can say anything to him, though. I doubt Alex will sympathize with me. He's my bodyguard, not my friend.

He's always so stoic and serious, yet here I am, breaking down and letting my emotions get the better of me. I feel like I just let Marco and his stupid parents win—like I just let them control me and bend me to their will.

Finally, we reach my room, and Alex closes the door behind us. I immediately sit on my bed and look down at my lap, fidgeting with my hands. Alex leans back against my door, sighing.

I'm waiting for him to yell at me.

But he stays silent.

For some reason, I can't take it anymore. Is he just quietly disappointed in me? Why isn't he talking? I think it's driving me insane—not hearing his voice. Why am I like this?

"Why aren't you shouting at me?" I ask out of nowhere, bouncing my leg anxiously again. At this point, it's a habit.

He cocks an eyebrow, looking at me like I've just said the most unbelievable thing ever. "Do you want me to?"

I bite my lip and dart my eyes away from him, looking at the ground by my bed. "You're not saying anything. Why?"

"I've learned that yelling at you does no good," he replies flatly. That's more like it. Not that I enjoy his tone or anything, but I'd much rather hear his voice than sit there in an awkward silence.

However, he adopts a calmer tone. His arms are folded as he relaxes against the wall, studying me. "And I suppose I agree with you."

"What?" I look at him in complete surprise. I didn't expect him to say he agreed with me.

He lets out a slight chuckle, shaking his head. "I find it stupid that your father is letting Marco take charge of the country. He's basically letting Spain take over Italy—that doesn't seem very smart of him to do."

With a puff, I nod. Everything he says is right, and I'm glad he's on my side for once. But I still can't help but wonder. "So you don't think I was being disrespectful and stepping out of line?"

"Oh no, you were very disrespectful," he answers, his expression still serious.

I shoot him a glare. "You weren't supposed to agree with that."

"Am I wrong?" he counters.

God, he is so frustrating. He's right, but that doesn't make me feel any better. Asshole. "I just don't understand why you're taking me to my room."

Alex hesitates for a moment. I know he's deciding if he should tell me. "I'm taking you to your room to protect you."

"From what?"

"From your father," he says, his eyes narrowing. He's showing some emotion again—not a lot, but more than I'm accustomed to. It almost makes me feel like he's a real human being. But I won't go there. I'm better off forgetting about my little attraction to him. It's new, and it'll definitely pass.

For a few moments, neither of us said anything. The only sound I make is fidgeting with my hands, which I swear are going to turn into noodles if I keep playing with them like this. My heartbeat is starting to race, and sweat is forming on my forehead.

Why does this have to be so nerve-wracking? Why does Alex have to be so damn stiff? Why the hell do I even care?

"Can you please just leave?" I ask hesitantly.

Alex seems a bit surprised by my sudden request. "Of course." He straightens himself out, leaving the room without saying another word.

The moment he leaves, I let out a long exhale and fall back onto my bed. I can't take all this anxiety anymore. My head hurts, and I just want to go to sleep. Or better yet, run away. But there's something stopping me, and I don't know what it is.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・

authors note: i saw some people judging alex in this chapter thinking he was serious. i thought it was obvious he was only joking about elena being rude but oh well 😭