The Prince's Arranged Marriage
Chapter 56: Technicalities Pt. 2

Chapter 56: Technicalities Pt. 2

I remember the look on Elara’s face when I finally met her that night. In the quiet of an alcove far from the prying eyes of the palace, her familiar warmth and gentle concern wrapped around me like a soft cloak. I had barely managed to find the courage to share the heaviness that weighed upon my heart. "Elara," I confessed in a hushed voice, "I knew I’d have to sacrifice a part of myself for this marriage. I understood that duty must come before personal desires. But I never imagined they would demand that I forfeit all my obligations toward Veridia. It feels as if I’m expected to become nothing more than a figurehead, someone who abandons the very soul of my homeland."

She listened intently, her eyes filled with sympathy and quiet determination. "Lucien, you are the heartbeat of Veridia," she murmured, taking my hand gently. "Your people need you not just as a symbol, but as the compassionate leader you are. I know this wedding was arranged for the good of both our kingdoms. Still, you must not let them rob you of who you are. You deserve to stand proud in your duties, to hold onto your responsibilities—even as you embrace this union."

Her words, so sincere and unwavering, did little to ease the turmoil inside me that night, but they did remind me that I was not entirely alone in this labyrinth of duty and sacrifice.

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The next day dawned cool and overcast, and I found myself resolutely determined to keep my distance. The palace was abuzz with yet another round of meetings, finalizing the intricate details of our impending wedding. Instead of joining the formalities, I secluded myself in my private chamber, refusing to speak to Alexander or face his parents. I paced the stone floors, the murmur of distant voices reminding me of the unrelenting demands placed upon me, both as Prince of Veridia and as the soon-to-be husband of Alexander Silver. I had turned a deaf ear to every call to compromise my responsibilities. My heart ached with a fierce, burning protest: I would not betray my people by stepping aside from my duties, even if it meant alienating those who wished for me to ease the burden.

Hours passed in solitude until I ventured out, intent on avoiding every corridor where the voices of Alexander and his parents might echo. The halls of Valtoria Palace felt colder now, every polished marble surface reflecting the seriousness of the situation. I kept my head down, refusing to make eye contact with anyone who approached; my silence became a fortress against the onslaught of expectations. Yet even as I withdrew further into my isolation, the weight of the day bore down on me. I could feel my pulse quicken, a mix of anger and sorrow swirling in the recesses of my mind.

In a shadowed corridor near the royal garden, I nearly collided with Alexander as he strode purposefully toward the garden’s entrance. His eyes bore into mine, and his hand reached out as if to pull me from the depths of my self-imposed exile. "Lucien, wait," he said in a quiet, urgent tone.

I tried to pull away, determined to preserve my silence. "I don’t have time for—" I began, but before I could finish, his grip was firm, not harsh but insistent. He didn’t allow me a moment to retreat. "Please, Lucien. I need you to listen to me," he said, eyes softening with both worry and care.

Against my better judgment, I yielded as he led me out into the royal garden. The garden was a haven of tranquility, bathed in the gentle hues of twilight. Soft green lawns and meticulously pruned hedges were interspersed with flowering beds that glowed under the last rays of the sun. The cool evening air carried the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle, soothing the rough edges of my frayed nerves.

We walked slowly along a stone pathway, the only sounds the rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of nocturnal birds. Alexander’s voice, usually reserved and measured, broke through the silence. "Lucien, I’m sorry about what my parents said and did. I know their words cut deeper than they intended. I never wanted you to think that you must give up everything—your duties, your honor, all that makes you the leader Veridia so desperately needs."

I stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him. "You don’t understand, Alexander," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "They expect me to step aside completely—as if my strength is only valuable when I shrink back and let others bear the burden. I’m not willing to forfeit my responsibilities, even if it pleases them. My people need the real me, not a shadow of a prince who hides behind promises of compromise."

He frowned, his eyes reflecting both empathy and determination. "Lucien, I know you feel that way—I’ve seen the fire in your eyes when you speak of Veridia. But you must understand, we are in a delicate position. We have a duty to our people, yes, but our union is also meant to forge a new path. I believe that we can find a middle ground, a compromise that honors both our commitments. You deserve to lead as the man you are, and I want to support you in every way I can."

For a long, tense moment, I stared at him. I wanted to protest, to point out that my heart was already heavy with the burden of leadership, but somewhere in his earnest gaze, I felt something soften. "Alexander, I—" I began, but he shook his head gently, silencing my words with a tender urgency.

"Please, just listen," he urged. "We don’t have to decide everything right now. I promise, I will work with my parents, with our advisors, to find a solution that doesn’t force you to abandon your duties. You are not a liability, Lucien—you are the heart of Veridia. I apologize if I’ve ever made you feel otherwise."

His words were like a balm, slowly beginning to ease the raw edge of my anger and frustration. We continued walking through the garden, our pace unhurried, and his presence beside me was a quiet comfort I hadn’t realized how much I needed. The garden, under the soft light of the evening sky, began to weave its own magic; the gentle rustling of the leaves and the warm glow of lanterns made it feel as if time itself had slowed down.

As our walk continued, our conversation meandered from matters of state to memories of simpler days and shared laughter. We recalled youthful adventures—secret midnight escapades in the palace gardens, stolen moments behind closed doors, and plans of dreams we once whispered under the starlit sky. Each memory, shared in low, intimate tones, chipped away at the cold reserve that had long separated us.

Before long, the tension of the day dissipated further, and there came moments when Alexander’s hand found mine naturally, a subtle yet powerful gesture of unity. At one point, as we paused by a reflective pond, our eyes locked for an unspoken moment that seemed to bridge the gap between duty and desire. In a burst of quiet tenderness, Alexander leaned in, and we shared a kiss—soft, tentative, yet filled with the promise of understanding and the hope of compromise.

Time seemed to slow as the kiss deepened, the world around us fading into a gentle blur of soft light and whispered confidences. When we eventually pulled apart, both our faces bore the glow of something new—an abiding promise that perhaps we could face the challenges ahead together. In that vulnerable and unguarded moment, I felt as though a part of the burden had been lifted from my soul.

We spent the remainder of the day together in the garden—walking slowly, resting on stone benches, and sharing quiet smiles. Alexander spoke softly about his plans to renegotiate with his parents, to secure a compromise that would allow me to continue my duties without being overwhelmed by external demands. I listened, my heart beginning to mend as his words filled me with cautious optimism. By the time the evening shadows grew long, every planted seed of hope in that garden seemed to promise a future where our union would not be measured solely by sacrifice, but by mutual understanding and strength.

That night, as I lay in my chamber, the echoes of our conversation and the gentle warmth of Alexander’s touch resonated within me. I knew there were still difficult challenges ahead, and the path would not be easy. But in that moment, I allowed myself to believe that together, we could forge a way to balance duty and desire, honor and love.