Chapter 70: Six Years Ago (2)
"It is such an honor to be personally invited by the West Kingdom's princess," Head Minister Marlowe said with a light, proud smirk on his lips, bowing slightly.
Victoria's eyes never left the man who bore such a striking resemblance to Benjamin. Her heart tightened as she watched him being escorted to his seat, each step a painful reminder of her lost love.
There was no mistake—this man is Benjamin's father.
"Head Minister Marlowe, I have a proposition," Victoria spoke directly, her voice shameless and desperate as soon as he was seated.
Marlowe's demeanor shifted, his eyes narrowing with interest. "Hm. Do I benefit from it?" he asked, taking a measured sip of the tea prepared for him.
Victoria took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "I have long known of the Middle Kingdom's reign—the power of its army and the authority of its king."
With those words, Marlowe's sharp mind quickly discerned her intentions.
"I am sorry, Your Highness," he said, a mocking chuckle escaping his lips. "But it seems you are overly confident in your beauty and your kingdom's power. I see no benefit in you marrying my king."
Victoria's face tightened with determination. "I wish to dispose of my father's reign, but I cannot act alone," she explained, her voice steady.
Marlowe raised an eyebrow with his tone dripping with sarcasm. "And you wish to create a rift between our kingdoms for your own selfish interests? How noble of you," he sneered.
His words stung, but Victoria remained resolute. "This is not just about me. It is about the future of both our kingdoms."
Marlowe leaned back, regarding her with disdain. "You speak of the future, yet your actions are obviously driven by petty revenge and personal gain. You are a princess, yet you grovel before me like a common beggar. Do you think the Middle Kingdom would ally with such weakness?"
Victoria's eyes flashed with anger, but she kept her composure. "I am offering you a chance to weaken the West Kingdom and strengthen your own. My father's rule is crumbling, and with your support, we can bring about a new era."
"A new era led by a desperate woman who cannot even control her own fate? Your highness, your arrogance is matched only by your naivety. Do you truly believe that your beauty and empty promises are enough to sway the Middle Kingdom?" He asked while his lips were curling into a sneer.
Victoria's jaw tightened and her desperation turned into a steely resolve. "I may be desperate, but I am also determined. I am willing to do whatever it takes to ensure my father's fall and secure the future of our kingdoms."
Marlowe's eyes squinted, his tone turning icy as he sensed something deeper at play. "What is pushing you to such drastic measures?" he asked, hoping to intimidate her into silence. But her response was swift and unflinching.
"I am doing this for my lover, your son, Head Minister Marlowe."
Marlowe was taken aback, momentarily stunned, but he quickly composed himself with a forced chuckle.
"My son? You do not know my son. He is a scholar who is now traveling to learn from every kingdom, preparing to take my place someday," he replied, taking another measured sip of his tea.
"Yes, Ben has traveled far and wide," Victoria continued, her voice steady. "He arrived here, and we met under unexpected circumstances. And now..." She paused, her hand moving to her flat stomach, giving Marlowe a pointed look.
The Minister's eyes widened in shock at the mention of his son's nickname. He abruptly stood up, slamming his palms on the table with a force that made the tea cups rattle. "It cannot be! My son knows better than to engage in such reckless behavior! Where is he?!"
His voice rose in anger, startling Victoria and the maidservants. But as his question hung in the air, the room fell into an uneasy silence. The maidservants bowed their heads, and Victoria avoided his piercing gaze.
Marlowe's eyes darted around the room, seeking answers in the silence that followed. His breathing grew heavy as the weight of Victoria's revelation settled on him. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, "What have you done with my son?"
Victoria's gaze remained downcast, her voice trembling as she replied, "Your son... was executed by my father when he discovered our affair."
The color immediately drained from Marlowe's face as his hands trembled with grief and fury. His only son, killed? With that thought in his head, he suddenly stumbled back as his legs felt weak, as if the weight of the news had physically struck him. His mind raced, unable to reconcile the vibrant image of his son with the cold reality of his execution. Benjamin, his brilliant, kind-hearted boy, who had dreams of changing the world, now reduced to a lifeless body.
"Executed?" he repeated, the word barely escaping his lips, laden with disbelief and horror. The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing tighter as he struggled to breathe.
Victoria nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "I didn't know until it was too late. I swear, I would have done anything to save him."
The man's expression twisted with rage. "You dare come to me with this? You let my son die, and now you seek my help for your schemes?"
The helpless princess looked up as desperation was etched on her face. "I did not have a choice! My father's wrath is merciless. But I'm trying to protect what was left of Benjamin. Our child. Your grandchild."
Marlowe's anger simmered beneath the surface, but her words gave him pause. He knew the laws of the kingdoms, the fate that awaited women with illegitimate children. His mind raced with conflicting emotions—rage at the loss of his son, and a reluctant understanding of the dire situation before him.
"You think I will just forgive and forget because you carry my grandchild?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "You are playing a dangerous game, Your Highness."
But her resolve hardened even more. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to secure my child's future. Help me marry your king and when I gain power, I will overthrow my father, and I will ensure he suffers the same fate he gave to my beloved. We can build a future where no one will dare threaten our lineage."
Marlowe stared at her, as her words began sinking in. His mind flashed with images of his son, of the future he had envisioned for him. Slowly, he sank back into his chair, his expression was of reluctant contemplation.
"Very well, princess," he said slowly, the bitterness in his voice tempered by a grudging acceptance. "I will consider your proposition. But know this—you tread on thin ice. One misstep, and you will find yourself alone in this treacherous game."
Victoria nodded, her heart pounding with fear but also of hope. "Thank you, Head Minister Marlowe. I will not let you down."
Then for a moment, Minister Marlowe's expression softened slightly, the fury in his eyes giving way to a deep, aching sorrow. He took a deep breath, his voice thick with emotion as he spoke.
"Princess," he said, his tone softer but no less intense, "if you have any decency left, tell me—have you given my son a proper burial? Do you have a grave for him that I might visit?"
Her eyes were immediately filled with tears, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, Head Minister. I ensured he was laid to rest with dignity. I can show you his resting place."
Marlowe's shoulders sagged, his grief pressing down on him. He nodded while his voice was heavy with a sorrow he could barely contain. "Lead me to his grave. To say goodbye, at the very least."
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