The Princess stewed over the missed opportunities of hatred, knuckles turning white from her angered grip on the flute. She nursed the strawberry juice, thankful for something to lessen the stress building in her. She noted its aromatics, clearly made from the highest quality fresh fruit with a slight breath of mint. Even the flute was all she wanted, crystal and gilded gold accents. Though she was thoroughly pleased, she made sure to force a cough and groan.
"Ugh, what, is this days old? I didn't even know juice could taste stale!" Chloe complained. She played up the dramatics of hesitantly taking another sip.
Sabrina looked upset, wondering how her freshly made juice could possibly taste off. She wouldn't dare to ask if it was genuine. Instead, she apologized, blaming it on unripe fruit. Nathaniel took notice of how she continued to drink it, occasionally forgetting to fake a grimace. He chose to ignore her and strode back to the lavender plants, careful not to over water the blooming flowers.
The scribe stood nervously, racking his brain to think of anything to say that would allow more time with his prince. He naturally gravitated to his side, continuously glancing at him and then away. His prince slowly noticed him waiting at his peripherals, drawing his eyes away from the plants. Their eyes connected for a few beautiful seconds, their togetherness mending any anxiety either carried. Marc could only muster a soft hum, signaling the watching eyes from afar.
Blink and she'd miss it, Chloe caught the glance Nathaniel threw at her like he was startled. He turned back to the plants, clearing his throat.
"Oh, sorry." He sputtered. "You're dismissed, go on."
The scribe backed away as he managed a "Thank you."
The lover watched from the corner of his eyes as his love disappeared beyond the marble floors, eyes drifting back to their garden already missing him. He moved on to other greenery, trying to disappear beyond them as well.
Sharp eyes and watchful eyes followed him the entire time. Gears turned in the Princess's mind, coming to a new plan. She swirled her flute in circles, not bothering to watch the drink move with it. "Sabrina, that scribe's name was Marc, wasn't it?"
Watchful eyes quickly slipped back to look at the Princess. "I believe so, yes. Do you think-?"
"Oh, I'm not blind, Sabrina!" Chloe snipped. "You are to shadow them. I want everything you can find on them."
She nodded and watched the Princess continue to nurse her strawberry juice.
Hours and hours passed, the sun setting into a painted sky of purples, pinks, and blues. Nathaniel had run out of garden to tend to, now laid across a chiseled stone bench. He had resigned to daydreaming and thinking of future paintings. It had grown quiet, hiding out of the Princess's view. It was quite peaceful, though he had always found it easier to rest in his love's garden.
It never lasted as long as he'd like. Something always came up. The Prince tensed as the footsteps he heard came to a stop at the garden stairs. He knew his time was up.
"King Kurtzberg requests both of you to return at once." A voice says. Nathaniel recognized it as the knight usually stationed to guard his bed chambers.
The Princess let out a loud groan, throwing her head back in feigned anguish. "Finally, I feared I would be bored to death here!" She snapped her fingers as she rose and her servant quickly followed suit. The clack of her heels made Nathaniel sigh, already fretting what awaited him. As he trailed behind the Princess and her servant, he wished they would all conveniently forget he existed. He met the eyes of the Knight that waited behind for him, a knowing look of pity apparent on his face.
Nathaniel walked past the Knight, breaking their gaze. "Thank you, Luka."
The Knight noted how miserable he sounded. Like his very soul was slowly decaying. Had they been alone, he would have given the Prince a comforting pat on the back.
After the uncomfortably silent walk to the meeting room, the Knight opened the door for the royalty and watched them make their way inside. Closing the door, he resigned to once again wait outside the doors.
Inside, the Prince noticed his mother's averted eyes. He watched her, growing more anxious every second she refused to meet his gaze. The two royal children settled into their seats amid the otherwise vigilant eyes tracking their every movement. The two diametrically opposed kings sat far across from each other in a struggle for power.
The silence was piercing as Nathaniel stared at the tabletop.
King Bourgeois cleared his throat and put on a joyful tone. "So, how do you feel about summer? Or spring? My daughter loves the way the golden hour makes her look and I bet it would make the white dress practically glow!"
The Prince's eyebrows furrowed with confusion, processing the question that comes from seemingly nowhere.
King Kurtzberg shook his head. "Absolutely not, all that sun will make his skin red and burnt. I cannot allow our heir to look like that on such an important occasion."
The children's eyes met in extreme confusion as the pieces started to fall into place. The Prince's confusion quickly melted into fear, the feeling in his gut sinking practically six feet under.
"No," Nathaniel breathed out. His head turned towards his mother, failing to meet her gaze. "Tell me not. Mother?"
Hesitantly, she looked at her son, utterly resigned. "I'm afraid so. I'm sorry."
An anguished shriek filled the room, making the less prepared flinch. The Princess slammed her hands against the table and she stood. "Mommy, no! I absolutely refuse-!"
Queen Bourgeois's voice raised much louder than her kin. "You will do what we say and you will be happy. If you must pretend, then you pretend."
"Are you insane? Daddy, I demand this be called off at once!" She yelled.
"Sit, you insolent brat." The Queen's voice boomed, demanded.
Chloe's heart jumped into her throat only to be forced back down. She silently sat, feeling the tears pinprick at her eyes.
Once the room fell silent, King Kurtzberg's voice filled it once more. "You are to be married. It is the only way to prevent all-out war. I do not care for your differences, they are not more important than our people."
"Don't pretend to care about the people." Nathaniel quietly snapped, glaring at his father from the corner of his eyes.
The King stared coldly back. "If you wish to be blunt, then so be it. No, I don't care for the people. I care for the land and resources this marriage will reward me. Gold and precious gemstones lay in Bourgeois land while my land is fertile. We both want what the other has. Would you rather war to take this? For the civilian casualties on both sides? What would the public think of you if you refused this marriage for selfish reasons?"
Nathaniel felt cornered. The future of two opposing kingdoms depended on his ability to put up with the person who's made his life a living hell. He was barely 19 and already had too much pressure placed on him.
"This can't be the only way."
"It's the only way he's willing to do," Caline spoke. She placed her hand on his, squeezing it lightly. "We aren't saying you must be in love with Princess Chloe. You don't even have to like her. You just have to tolerate her."
He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. It felt as if he was collapsing in on himself, quickly losing his ability to speak. A clam shell closing off the pearl inside.
The princess's voice broke. "I hate you. All of you."
She was ignored.
"Regardless," King Bourgeois spoke. "You are to be married. It will take time to iron out the fine details, consider yourselves engaged until told otherwise."
The children were silent.
"You are both dismissed." His father said. "Go do what you want."
Nathaniel's head fuzzied as he stood and walked to the door. He barely noticed Chloe's presence following him to the door. It seemed as if the world melted into vague representations of reality as his hand pulled the doors open, walking past the knights in waiting. Sabrina began speaking, swiftly cut off by Chloe's shaking yell for silence. Those knowing blue eyes of the Prince's assigned knight caught on quickly to the shift in mood, feeling the difference in his soul. He followed the Prince's footsteps wordlessly, waiting until they rounded a corner to place his hand on his back.
It was as if he wasn't even there.
The knight studied the Prince's face, seeing that all too familiar look of glazed-over eyes and unreadable expression. It wasn't that the knight wasn't there. It was the Prince who wasn't. He had already gone away, hidden in his mind. He wouldn't return for some time.