𝒜 𝒟𝒶𝒾𝓈𝓎 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

Valentina: 24

It glitters, the ring.

It really is gorgeous, and I should be in love with every karat of the rose gold band, but something still indeed feels off when I wear it. It feels like a weight. It feels like a burden. It feels like...

Like I don't deserve this life.

I'm not intelligent enough to keep up with Luke's fantastic vocabulary.

I'm not beautiful enough to parry with Luke's handsome features one would give the world for.

And I'm certainly not agreeable, nor charming like Luke is with his visiting dukes and marquesses.

And I certainly never will be any of those unachievable things Luke has managed to achieve.

Every glittering garnet taunts me with it's prism cut perfection, braced to my skin like an inerasable tattoo. An image that follows me everywhere, and its the failure at my representation of perfection that fills the canvas. 

It's the failure.

I couldn't keep a family the first time, who's to say all will be well the second?

What if Luke realizes who I am and abandons me?

What if I fail him?

What if he gets hurt, or killed because of the royalty staining my blood?

I couldn't bear it, and it hurts to even think of the idea.

Just then, as I'm sitting in the drawing room with my teacup wavering in hand, peering at the expensive engagement ring I wear, a pair of warm palms press over my eyes.

"Good morning, Luke." I tell him as if I had not been counting the minutes to his arrival, and the days to our wedding.

"Morning Valentina." He murmurs, kissing my neck and coming around to sit beside me.

My neck seems to be his favorite pacifier of some sort.

I take the white box next to me on the couch into my hands and place it in his.

"This is for you. A little peek of what the wedding planners have intended for us."

He gives me a curious smile, untethering the ribbon before popping the lid open a peek, and as soon as he sees it he shuts the box.

"Like what you saw?" I smirk at his ever present blush.

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is." He groans. "Or what I have to do with it."

"I certainly would like to," I chuckle at his demise. "But I'm afraid you know exactly the necessary precautions with a garter."

Luke moans embarrassedly, taking out the thin band bearing daisies woven in by lace.

"Seems like quite the theme we have going here, hmm?" He murmurs, holding the strap up to the light.

"So it seems." I give him a laugh. "Care to know what the bouquet may be like?"

"As much as I'd love to, I'm sure my assumptions aren't terribly far off." He winks, placing the garter back into it's box.

"Well, two more weeks until the big day. No cold feet yet, mister?" I elbow him.

"Nope. About to be the happiest man alive, tethered to you for eternity." He deadpans, and I laugh. "Lord save us both."

"Please." Because I'm afraid he'll move my veil and decide he doesn't like what he sees.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

The next day, I still hold this feeling of unsureness.

It follows me down the long halls of the castle, like a ghost of someone I may have known coming back to haunt me. An eerie feeling, a thing you can't shake.

It follows me into my carriage, where I twiddle my thumbs the entire ride.

It follows me into Luke's palace, where I wander down the halls.

It follows me into his room, where he can feel it's presence.

"You look uneasy. Cold feet?" He laughs at the inside joke we've come to repeat.

"Maybe." I mutter, kicking at the floor when I realize I blurted exactly my thoughts.

"Really?" Luke's eyes widen and I grimace. "Wait- you don't want to marry me?"

"I- I never said that, Luke." I sigh, plopping onto his bed.

"So then what was with the little comment, 'maybe'?" He frowns. "You denied my accusation, but you didn't promote the opposite. So you are getting cold feet."

His statement is cold and hard.

"Only a little bit... but that's just normal, right?" I nod.

"I guess." He sounds a little deflated, so I try and lighten the mood.

"You know what the rest of the monarchy was getting on me about lately?" I chuckle. "Making an heir."

"You're going to joke about intimacy after admitting you have cold feet?" He scowls.

"Hey- sorry, I didn't mean-" But I stop myself, because no one else will.

"So then what did you mean? For real, with the cold feet." Luke asks, scooting away a little on the bed.

"I just- I don't think we would have met, much less fell in love if it weren't for our kingdoms predicaments." I shrug, pushing hair away from my face.

"What makes you say that?" He says harshly.

"We hated each other." I tell him blatantly.

"We could have still met and fallen." Luke scowls again, and I frown.

"I don't think so. We're too different." I shake my head.

"Oh, so I suppose if you had a choice, you would have rather married someone like my brother." I glare at this statement.

"Why do you keep saying that? I don't think I've ever even met your brother." I scoff. "And the cold feet thing... I just think that I can't picture a life with you. Not that I don't want one, because I do, but I just can't imagine a scenario where we end well."

"But that's in our power." He glares. "We can choose to make it work."

"Sometimes fate just doesn't work that way." I throw up my arms in exasperation. "And I'm nervous because I don't know if it will work for us in the long term scenario!"

A silence resumes over us, and Luke just glowers at me with all the rage in his heart.

"Well, then, I guess we don't have a choice but to be unhappy." Luke gets up to leave, and I do the same. "Congratulations, you actually made a person with philophobia fall in love with you. Must feel good."

It really doesn't.

So I storm out.

"I hate you." He calls after me.

"I hate you too, Lukas."