Unchosen Crown

CHANGE OF PACE

Leaning against Windsor's oak side door, Oliver let the discomfort of the previous day dissipate into the crisp morning air, savoring these brief moments that belonged solely to him before the routine would crush him again. The silence was like an old friend — rare and precious.

Then, a familiar voice pulled him from his brief refuge.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon, Your Royal Highness." Ivy appeared from the other side of the courtyard, paper bags in hand, her white uniform as pristine as ever. Even the delicate cherry blossom embroidery on her sleeves looked freshly done, as if time moved differently for her.

Oliver's smile came from a deep place, maybe because she was one of the few people with whom he didn't have to pretend.

"Neither did I," he replied, opening his arms for a hug.

Ivy smiled, the bags lightly brushing Oliver's back as she hugged him in return. When they pulled away, her eyes — always so sharp — studied him for a moment, as if they could pierce through the veneer he wore so well for others. There was no hiding the dark circles or the tired expression that clung to him.

"The Queen specifically requested these special condiments," Ivy explained, shaking the bags. "She wants tonight's banquet to be perfect. To celebrate your return."

Oliver nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. Perfect for everyone, except him.

Ivy noticed the shadow that crossed his face. With a silent gesture of understanding, she touched his forearm, her hand firm and reassuring.

"How are you, Ollie?" The question was like a small opening, a chance to let some of the anguish he'd been holding in slip out. But when he answered, the words came with unexpected lightness, laced with dark humor.

"It would be dishonest to say I'm fine."

Ivy walked alongside him in silence, listening. And Oliver, surprisingly, confided — not with a flood of complaints, but with slow, careful reflections, as if unraveling his own feelings as he spoke.

The pressure of the arranged marriage, the suffocating obligations of royalty, the gradual loss of what he considered essential: autonomy. He talked about Ian, Ivy's twin brother, a staunch defender of the Crown and a growing source of his irritation.

Ivy listened with that endless patience, as if each word from him was part of a puzzle she effortlessly understood.

"By the way, you never mentioned having a brother," he commented casually, casting her a sideways glance. "Let alone one so... difficult."

Ivy laughed, amused by Oliver's remark.

"Well, Ian isn't always the easiest to handle, I admit. He takes everything very seriously." She paused, perhaps choosing her words carefully. "But he has a good heart, Ollie. Maybe you just need to get to know him better."

Oliver rolled his eyes, skepticism clear.

"Hard to see that side when he spends all his time treating me like a child, with all those rules and protocols."

Ivy smiled slightly, a look of affection mixed with teasing.

"Maybe he's just trying to keep you in line, Prince."

Oliver shot her a mock-reproachful look, to which she only laughed harder.

"Speaking of him..." Her gaze fixed ahead.

At that moment, Ivy's eyes caught on something in the distance. Oliver followed her line of sight and spotted Ian jogging across the gardens, accompanied by one of the castle's security officers.