One day, her uncle announces to Ella that she must marry the king's youngest son. Though reluctant to marry a man she does not know, Ella is willing to do anything to escape her uncle's control and the cruelty of her cousins. However, just as she is...
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The palace still slumbered in the early dawn as Prince Alexander found himself immersed in a tumultuous dream, lost in the depths of his subconscious. His sleep was abruptly interrupted by the entrance of James, a devoted servant of the palace. Displaying a cheerful demeanor, James burst into the room, drawing back the curtains to reveal a day that promised radiance.
"It's a splendid morning, My Prince. Today, it seems, carries favorable omens," he announced with a smile. "My Prince,the time has come for you to rise. You know how much your father emphasizes punctuality for meals. What were you doing last night? I would bet my hand that..." James's voice trailed off into the recesses of the dream, and Alexander struggled to emerge from this dreamlike realm.
He realized, with a certain confusion, that he was still dressed in yesterday's white shirt. The buttons were undone, exposing his chest, abs, and other princely attributes. His brown hair was disheveled, and next to his lips was a small cut, a remnant of the events of the previous night.
"You clearly had an altercation last night," observed James.
Alexander, groggy, replied, "why do you say that?" James's sharp eyes focused on the small cut. "Your lips bear witness to it," he affirmed.
Alexander attempted an explanation: "Ah, it's just a small cut."
James, impassive, retorted, "A small cut, you say? Ensure you find a more convincing excuse for Your Highness, young man." A mysterious exchange unfolded, hinting at revelations to come in the silent dawn of the palace.
James stepped forward with a grace that betrayed his role as a devoted servant. "Your attire is ready, Your Highness," he declared, presenting a selection of outfits with carefully studied elegance.
Prince Alexander, still immersed in the drowsiness of sleep, was about to express his gratitude, but James continued seamlessly.
"Shall I refresh your memory regarding today's schedule? After the meal, Madame Ilda will be here to take your measurements. It is imperative that you look impeccable, and I emphasize the importance, for your wedding day. These are the requirements of His Majesty, the king. This step must be taken promptly; the wedding is approaching swiftly. Afterward, you will need to accompany His Majesty Damian, your brother."
He paused, letting a significant silence hang in the air before broaching the delicate subject, clearing his throat with calculated caution.
"You understand the significance of this undertaking, do you not?"
Alexander, attempting to momentarily escape the pressing reality, responded with a hint of exasperation, "James, I've understood perfectly. I believe I can manage the rest of the day on my own. You may go; I'll get ready."
James respectfully nodded, withdrawing with a final bow, leaving Alexander alone.
In the shadow of the impending meal, each passing moment becomes a trial in this atmosphere heavy with unresolved resentment that taints our dinners. The prospect of sharing the table with my father disgusts me profoundly. The few moments where camaraderie used to reign have given way to a relationship colored by bitterness and unspoken grievances. As for this marriage affair, it annoys me to no end. I have no desire to get married, and I am well aware that this union has been orchestrated by my father for reasons far from noble. I feel poignant empathy for the young woman destined to share her life within the sinister maze of this castle, a place marked by the scars of family conflicts.
At this moment, my thoughts plunge into a dark introspection. This curse, as I perceive it, stands like an insurmountable barrier between my desires and harsh reality. Upon the announcement of this marriage, a fleeting glimmer of hope crossed my mind. Yet, illusions dissipate in the face of cold reality, reminding me that true love seems to be an unattainable illusion in this context.
My mind oscillates between confusion and clarity, confronted with an inevitable truth. As I pen down these words, I feel like lifting the veil on a burden deeply buried. The darkness of my soul is laid bare, tormented by a secret I've named a curse. Each word expresses the pain that grips me, revealing the complexity of my situation and the turmoil that clouds my being.
While strolling down the corridor, Alexander felt his body groan, a lingering reminder of his neglected medication. He hurriedly pulled out a small box, oddly resembling a child's candy box, and swiftly swallowed a pill. Upon entering the grand royal salon, the majestic atmosphere of the place enveloped him.
The salon was a sumptuous spectacle, rich tapestries, opulent furniture, and sparkling chandeliers creating an undeniable grandeur. The vibrant colors of the carpets and the gilded frames contributed to a warm ambiance, although tension lingered in the air.
At the center of this grand setting, the royal family gathered – the king, the queen, Prince Alexander, his brother Jack, and Prince Damian, the heir. The interaction among them was complex, steeped in unspoken words and family conflicts.
The king, with an icy gaze, fixed his eyes on Alexander. "You neglect your responsibilities, son. Your injury does not justify your lack of diligence."
Alexander, attempting to conceal his irritation, responded with a measured tone. "Father, I fulfill my duties diligently. The injury is healing, but some scars endure."
The queen, present but silent until now, spoke with a soft yet firm voice. "Alexander, your father is right. You are the future of our lineage, and you must act accordingly."
Damian, the crown prince, interjected with a mocking smile. "Ah, Alexander, marriage already weighs on you. But I heard you found solace in the eyes of a court lady. What a surprise."
Alexander, irritated, retorted. "Damian, you wander in your own illusions. Matters of the heart are not my current concern."
Jack, Alexander's brother, chimed in with a teasing tone. "Perhaps Alexander seeks love among the orphans. Isn't that right, brother?"
The king, disdainful, concluded. "Do not let your weaknesses tarnish the honor of our family. Marriage is a sacred duty, and you will comply."
The valets, present in the room, were uncomfortable with this tense family scene. Their movements were discreet, but their eyes betrayed their discomfort with these bitter exchanges within royalty. The hushed whispers of the servants added an extra layer of unease to the atmosphere in the grand royal salon.
The king, disdainful, added with scorn, "You have nothing to do with children. You cannot control yourself. Imagine what harm you could do to them."
Alexander, furious, shot back, "I can control myself better than you, at least!"
The king sarcastically retorted, "You'd better marry that woman. She might be able to quench your thirst."
At that moment, a servant brought a splendid gold-adorned carafe to the table. "Shall I begin serving, Your Majesty?" he asked, and the king nodded in agreement.
Alexander, still carrying the bitterness of his father's words about the orphanage children, felt a surge of disgust as he laid eyes on the glass presented by the valet. A bitter feeling overwhelmed him, and without a word, he abruptly stood up to leave the room. Damian tried to detain him, offering a drink, but Alexander, deaf to these attempts, continued his way.
Damian, in a teasing tone, added, "You're not drinking, brother? A sip might clear that shadowed face."
The king, observing the scene, commented in a somber tone, "Leave them be. God knows what happened last night; he surely has his veins filled." The atmosphere in the grand salon still resonated with tension, with each gesture and reaction adding to the already heavy electric mood in the room.
