Chained Royalty [ZNN]

Chapter II: Expendable Prince

"Aren't you getting tired of following me?" I asked, my tone a mix of irritation and defiance. The moonlit palace garden, usually a serene retreat, now echoed with the underlying tension of our exchange. His persistent presence, like a shadow trailing mine, added an extra layer of unease to the night air.

The palace garden was like a wild burst of colors, with flowers popping up everywhere you looked. The grass was a lush green carpet under the giant old trees, their branches reaching out like a protective umbrella. Stone paths wove through the garden, kind of like secret trails waiting to be discovered.

Big pots held flowers that looked like they were straight out of a painting, and the whole place smelled like a mix of sweet blooms and nighttime air. There were cool fountains bubbling away, their splashes making a soft background music.

Under the moonlight, the garden took on a magical feel. The statues stood tall, almost like they were part of some secret club, and the whole place seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for some enchanting moment to unfold. Benches with comfy cushions looked like the perfect spot for a quiet chat or just soaking in the dreamy atmosphere. It was a slice of paradise tucked away in the heart of the palace.

"I have nowhere to go, My Sire." Zee shrugged.

"Well, you're not welcome here, Your Royal Highness," I replied.

"That's too bad. We're going to have to make the best out of it," Zee answered, his voice a low, husky whisper.

The air crackled with tension. As our gazes met, a silent battle of wills ensued, each of us unwilling to surrender to the other's authority. The delicate balance between the prince's dominance and my resistance hung in the air, creating a palpable tension that underscored the complexity of our union.

As the moonlight poured through the windows, the garden assumed a mystical allure, weaving its enchantment around the two princes. The eyes of the Southern prince, a captivating shade of blue, exuded a mysterious intensity that seemed to echo the ancient secrets of his kingdom.

"I will return during the month of the sacred festival. By then, the King and Queen of the South will be present to finalize the union. I expect your cooperation," he declared, his voice carrying both authority and a subtle undercurrent of expectation.

"And if I don't want to?" I questioned, my voice cutting through the quiet of the garden. The moonlit night bore witness to the confrontation, and the air seemed charged with the tension between the expectations of the Southern prince and the autonomy I sought to retain.

His eyes, the captivating blue intensified by the moon's glow, held a steady gaze. "This union is more than personal desires; it's about the alliance between our kingdoms. Refusing to cooperate jeopardizes the stability of Crestland," he asserted, the weight of responsibility laced in his words.

The garden, wrapped in its nocturnal enchantment, became a silent arena for the clash of wills, where the destinies of North and South hung in the balance under the watchful gaze of the moon.