The Crowns Choice

❦ Chapter Twenty Seven: Atlas ❦

As the silence stretches between us, I can't help but feel a strange sense of peace. It's like the room has its own bubble, keeping the outside world at bay. I glance over at Charlotte, who's leaning back against the couch, her expression contemplative.

I decide to break the silence with something light, hoping to keep the mood relaxed. "So, what's your favourite colour, Princess? And don't say black this time."

She raises an eyebrow, considering my question. "Alright, fine. It's grey."

"Gray?" I echo, feigning surprise. "Would that have anything to do with my eyes, by any chance?"

She laughs, a sound that's as bright as it is unexpected. "Not everything is about you, Atlas," she retorts, her tone teasing.

I hold up my hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough, but I can't blame a guy for trying, can I?"

She shakes her head, still smiling. Her eyes twinkle with that familiar spark of defiance. "Your turn," she says, leaning forward slightly. "What's your favourite colour?"

I pause, considering my answer. I could be coy about it, but something about this moment makes me want to be honest. "Well, if I'm being truthful... It's pine green."

Charlotte looks at me, her gaze lingering on mine. Her lips curl into a smirk. "Now look who's copying."

I lean in just a little, my grin widening. "Well, if I got to wake up to those eyes every day, I wouldn't be complaining."

A faint blush creeps up her cheeks, and for a moment, I see her guard slip just enough to catch a glimpse of the real Charlotte—soft, vulnerable, and maybe even a little unsure. But then she laughs again, this time more naturally. "You really are something, Atlas Everheart."

"Just trying to keep things interesting," I reply, shrugging as if it's no big deal. But inside, I'm savouring the moment, knowing I've managed to fluster her, even if just a little.

We fall into a comfortable silence, the earlier tension between us easing away. The conversation feels easy, natural, like we're just two people sharing a moment instead of two players in a much larger game.

"What about your favourite food?" I ask, deciding to keep the questions going. "And if you say something like caviar, I'm going to have to rethink everything."

She smirks, clearly enjoying the banter. "You wound me, Atlas. I'm not that predictable."

I give her a challenging look. "Prove it."

She leans back, pretending to think. "Alright, it's... pasta. Preferably something with a lot of cheese."

I raise an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Pasta? I didn't see that one coming."

She laughs, the sound soft and warm. "See? I'm full of surprises."

We continue like this, trading questions and answers, teasing each other with lighthearted banter. It feels good to laugh, to forget about the weight of the crown and the expectations that come with it, even if it's just for a little while.

After a particularly amusing exchange about our least favourite royal duties, I ask, "So, if you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

She hesitates, the question catching her off guard. "Honestly?" she says slowly. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it."

I look at her, my expression softening. "No one's ever asked you that before, have they?"

She shakes her head, a distant look in her eyes. "No. It's always been about duty, about what I'm supposed to do, where I'm supposed to be."

I lean in, my voice low and earnest. "You should think about it, Charlotte. What you want. What makes you happy."

She meets my gaze, and for a moment, I see the vulnerability in her eyes, the uncertainty that she tries so hard to hide. It's disarming, and I don't quite know how to respond.

"Maybe one day," she says quietly. "But for now, I guess I'm stuck here."

"Maybe," I agree, but there's something in my tone that suggests I'm not convinced. "But that doesn't mean you can't dream."

She smiles at that, a real, genuine smile. "I suppose you're right."

We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between us. It's a different kind of silence now, one that's filled with understanding, with a connection that wasn't there before.

"Thank you, Atlas," she says softly, breaking the silence. "For being here. For listening."

I look at her, my gaze steady and warm. "Anytime, Princess."

And for the first time in a long time, I believe her. We've built something in this room tonight, something fragile and new, but real. And as much as I wish we could stay here, in this moment, I know it won't last.

Grown more tired, Charlotte puts her head on my shoulder, and for a moment, everything feels right. "I don't want this to end," she whispers, her voice barely audible.

"Me neither," I reply, my own voice soft with unspoken emotions.

She falls asleep there, her breathing evening out as she drifts off. I take a deep breath, taking in how peaceful she looks, how the tension that usually surrounds her has melted away. No one else seems to see this side of her. She's taken her masks off, and I see a whole new Charlotte—one that's real, unguarded, and incredibly beautiful.

I sit there, holding her, the weight of the night and all its revelations pressing down on me. But I wouldn't trade this moment for anything in the world.