Obsession and Betrayal: A Royal Love Triangle

Lecture

A month later, Ida sat at the small table in the sunlit conservatory, a room adorned with lush greenery and blooming orchids. Her mother, Lady Marguerite, was sitting patiently across from her. The rich scent of rosemary roasted chicken wafted in from the kitchen, mingling with the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread.

"Ida, dear, I hope you're hungry," her mother said, her voice cheerful but with an undercurrent of seriousness that Ida couldn't ignore.

"I've arranged a meeting for you with prospective suitors."

Ida looked up in complete shock, the thoughts in her mind whipping blank.
"Suitors?" she choked out, swallowing the bit of food in her mouth.

"Yes, precisely," her mother replied, taking a sip of her tea. "It's time you fulfilled your duty and considered marriage. You know how the court expects us to conduct ourselves."

Ida beyond shocked, her appetite suddenly lost. "Mother, you can't be serious. I know as well as you do that none of these men are presentable. They're... they're just not right for me! It would be unbecoming for you and their families in the long run."

Her mother sighed, placing her cup down softly. "Ida, my dear, this isn't just about you. This is about our family's legacy. Your father would want you to be pragmatic about these things, and it's not like you expected to live with us for the rest of your life." She sighed again, "This is what a mother like me gets for only having girl heirs."

"Pragmatic?" Ida's voice rose slightly, tinged with frustration. "You mean to say I should settle for someone I barely know, just because it looks good on paper?"

Her Mother leaned forward, her expression softening. "I understand how you feel. But you must realize that love often grows over time. Is it something more to be learned? You might find that you have more in common than you think."

Ida couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You make it sound so romantic, Mother."
Stabbing at the chicken with aggression

"Then you'll go, won't you?" her mother replying gently. "You must at least give them all the chances. I'm not asking you to fall in love at first sight—just to meet them."

"I wish you wouldn't push so. . . ,choosing is much  more romantic in my eyes, not following something laid out."

"Dear...." her mother paused
"Life isn't always about choosing. Sometimes it's about finding a way to make the best of what we're given."

Ida sighed, staring down at her plate. "So, when is this... meeting?"

"Tomorrow! The drawing room!" Lady Marguerite replied, a smile spreading wide across her face. "You'll look lovely, and I'm sure one of them will be quite impressed."

Ida couldn't help but smirk, shaking her head. "I suppose I'll have to practice my 'charming' face then."

"Exactly," her mother said, reaching across the table to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"My dear, you have grown so much."

As they continued to eat, the tension between them eased slightly, but Ida couldn't shake the unease settling in her stomach alongside the food.

Despite her reluctance the next day, Ida found herself at the gathering, seated in a social room across from a men whose name she barely remembered. The room was filled with the hum of polite conversation and the clinking of china, each sound underscoring her discomfort. She forced a smile, engaging in the perfunctory small talk that was expected of her. She spoke of the weather and the latest news, her words polite but devoid of genuine interest. The conversation was so repetitive, one she had performed many times before with various suitors, each interaction as uninspiring as the last. As she exchanged pleasantries, Ida knew more than ever this wasn't for her interest in the slightest. As what seemed like the last man left she slumped down, splayed on the couch she had been sitting on for hours. Letting out an exasperated exhale.