Unchosen Crown

WHO SAID LOVE HAS TO BE HEROIC?

The big day had finally arrived.

The day Oliver would give up his freedom in exchange for an arranged marriage, a sacrifice demanded not by sword or blood, but by the seal of a political agreement. The morning breeze carried the shy aroma of spring, yet its freshness couldn't ease the tightness in his chest. Did he really need to give up everything out of duty?

Through the window, the cloudless sky displayed a vast blue. The soft fragrance of jasmine and the dew still clinging to the petals in the castle gardens mingled in the air.

Oliver longed to absorb that tranquility, but hope seemed as distant as the delicate shadows the trees cast on the stone ground. The sparse, withered leaves swayed melancholically, as if lamenting the love denied to him.

Outside, the castle buzzed with preparations. Horse hooves echoed in the cold courtyard, hurried voices of servants and guards blended together. The soft notes of a string quartet floated in the cold air, announcing the imminent ceremony. These sounds, though distant, seemed to penetrate the stone walls, filling the environment with an almost palpable anticipation.

But inside, in Oliver's room, reality seemed distant.

His reflection in the mirror revealed a young, exhausted prince, with dark circles deep as burning embers on a pale face. The insomnia, worry, and emotional exhaustion of the previous night haunted him. Disheveled hair and an unshaven beard completed the spectacle of his anguish.

It was evident that the facade of composure was about to crumble.

Sighing, Oliver immediately felt Ian's absence, even though he had spent the night by his side. He cast a longing glance at the empty chair, almost able to visualize Ian's figure there, enveloping him in an embrace capable of restoring his faith. However, his reverie was interrupted by soft knocks on the door.

Alice entered the room silently, her eyes closed in a playful grimace.

"Decent?" She asked with a tender smile when she opened her eyes, revealing a piercing light blue, capable of reflecting not only her resilient spirit but also the depths of the morning sky.

She moved with a grace that contradicted the tension of the moment, her slender figure wrapped in fabrics that captured the daylight, making her copper-colored hair seem to shine.

Oliver went to her and enveloped her in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"And miss my favorite brother's wedding?" Her broad smile was followed by a kiss on Oliver's cheek. The joy, however, soon gave way to concern on her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Probably as bad as I look," Oliver shrugged, honest. "And you? You look beautiful."

"Better," she sighed, heading to the bed where she sat on the edge. "A break from this madness works wonders."

Her gaze lowered for a moment before returning to Oliver, somber.

"I met Ian on my way here. I asked who he was."

Oliver's heart raced. "He was here?"

"Standing outside your door a few minutes ago," she pointed with a compassionate smile. "He's quite handsome."

"I know," Oliver murmured, stunned. "I can't believe he didn't tell me he was here."

Alice patted the mattress softly beside her.

"Come here, Oliver." He obeyed, sitting in the spot she indicated. The natural light gently filtered through the window, illuminating his face and reflecting the seriousness in his eyes, so similar to their father's. She extended her hands towards Oliver's, enveloping them with a softness that contrasted with the tension of the moment. Her fingers were a beacon of hope in his sea of despair. "I may seem hypocritical bringing this up now, after so long apart, but you need to understand that I would give anything to take this throne in your place, to spare you this pain," she said, her voice tinged with sincerity.