Unchosen Crown

HARBOR IN A HURRICANE

Leaving Ian at the runway was one of the most painful moments of Oliver's life.

Maintaining a dignified posture while every fiber of his being desperately begged Ian to stay required superhuman strength. Oliver survived that torturous day with only a fake smile plastered on his face, hiding his true suffering behind a mask of forged gratitude and pride as he watched the plane carrying the love of his life lift into the air and depart.

Returning to the castle, the stifling atmosphere of judgment and reproach fell upon Oliver like a poisonous cloud. The Queen awaited him with an aura of icy disdain, as if he had committed the gravest offense. Oliver could feel his grandmother's sharp displeasure as a palpable force swallowing him. The air was thick with oppressive tension, and he felt his heart sink under the crushing weight of her disdain.

Alice stood beside the Queen, waiting in tense silence, but the expression of apprehension and pure panic on her face screamed that she had been summoned by the Queen out of mere obligation. Yet, Oliver knew his sister's eyes, and in them was a glimmer of solidarity, saying that even without being able to verbalize it, she was there to offer some kind of moral support in that dark moment.

"Hello?" Oliver's hesitant greeting echoed as he entered the imposing and oppressive meeting room.

"Sit down, Oliver," the Queen ordered with her steel voice, direct as a blade. Oliver took his place before the Queen's majestic table, beside Alice, like a prisoner before the executioner.

"What happened?" Oliver asked, coloring his voice with forged innocence, while Alice cast him a glance loaded with veiled understanding, and the Queen adjusted in her imposing chair with a posture of intimidating authority.

"With the core of the problem temporarily removed, we must discuss the recent incident," she began, her voice cold and calculating like a snake ready to strike. Oliver's genuine confusion was evident, but she quickly clarified with venom: "Your negligence has put the Crown's reputation at risk."

"Grandma, what are you—"

"It's about the video, Oliver," Alice interrupted, her sweet voice contrasting with the tension of the conversation.

"And your... affair with Mr. Harrison-Jones," the Queen added, with evident irritation.

Hearing Ian's name, Oliver felt his blood boil. "It wasn't an affair. I love him, Your Majesty."

She studied him with disdain. "Don't try to deceive me with these childish fantasies. It's mere youthful rebellion, a vile challenge to the secular responsibilities entrusted to you. Centuries of royal tradition are being desecrated by your selfish whim!"

"Selfish?" Oliver's hands trembled with rage. "So Ian was unfairly dismissed because of me? All to preserve this façade of perfection for the Fitzwilliam-Somerset name?"

"My decisions are not up for discussion," her voice was as icy as a blizzard. "The real issue is your scandalous and irresponsible behavior. Have you considered the catastrophic consequences if that repugnant video were to become public?"

Oliver shot her a defiant look. "Apparently, it already has, otherwise, we wouldn't be having this embarrassing conversation."

Her expression remained unshaken, a stern mask. "Precisely. And although we can still contain the damage, drastic measures and your complete obedience will be required. I will tolerate no more insubordination from you."

Alice cast Oliver a distressed look, aware of the explosive gravity of the situation. The tension was almost unbearable.

"Obedience?" Oliver retorted with scorn. "You're treating me like a disposable soldier, not your grandson! Where is the love and understanding you so preach to the people?"