The Bride

Chapter 1//: Strength, Power

♕✿~♕✿~Chapter 1: Strength, Power♕✿~♕✿~

Ahren's POV

I pace around my room restlessly, unable to keep still. My hands are slightly shaking as my eyes briefly go over my desk where a report lies on it. Breathing in deeply, I finally force myself to sit on the edge of my bed. I try to look like I have everything under control: keeping my face straight, stopping my legs from shaking up and down, making sure my posture is that of a prince. But I can't. This image immediately shatters like a mirror. I can't keep in the small sound of frustration and grief as I lower my head, running my hands through my hair.

A prince does not cry. The statement from one of father's many lessons from when I was younger comes into mind. I've been trained since a little boy to act like the prince that this country needs. But I'm not strong. I'm weak. I'm nothing. I'm a disappointment to this country. They need someone powerful to lead them, but they only have me.

These thoughts, along with the fresh grief that rips through me at the memories of father and mother, make new tears well up in my eyes. So weak. I'm not a prince. As my breathing becomes shaky once more, I try to put back my emotions in a desperate attempt to have control over at least one thing in my life. I inhale and exhale quickly, and I shut my eyes to get rid of the tears. The country needs me. After the Rogue Dawn attack, everything was in array. The people want answers. They want someone to reassure them. The citizens of Norta are not used to a panic like this.

A knock sounds at my door. Startled, I stand up from my bed. I take long strides to my bedroom door. Before reaching it, I stop in front of my mirror to make sure I look presentable. Looking into the dead, grief-stricken eyes of the person in the mirror, I know I look far from the prince I should be. My black hair is sticking all over the place from me constantly running my hand through my hair from the stress of the past two hours. The white dress shirt I had worn to the outdoor gathering is torn in some spots. My black dress pants are in a similar fashion. I hadn't bothered changing after I got back into the palace.

Swallowing nervously, I grab the door handle of my bedroom and open it. Behind it stands a startled looking Gregory Arven as he notes my harried appearance. My father's advisor looks older than before, his white hair having streaks of gray through it. Gregory's eyes are filled with grief, just like mine are. I know that he was my father's closest friend when they were younger before he became his advisor.

"Gregory." I greet him, my voice cracking a bit. I clear my throat, trying to hide this.

He doesn't seem to notice and instead purses his lips. My heart clenches a bit. I knew this look. Gregory always pursed his lips whenever he was presenting my father with bad news.

"Your Majesty." I flinch at the title. My new title and what everyone else will call me after my coronation. This title belongs to my father, not me. I'm not fit to lead the country. I'm not ready.

Gregory hesitates. "Go on, tell me," I say, trying to prepare myself as much as possible for the bad news.

Finally, Gregory relents. "The search party...they came back with nothing."

I had been holding my shattered heart together for the past two hours, trying to keep hope. I've been trying to hold the broken pieces together. But now, now the sharp edges have cut through me, leaving me with only pain.

She's gone. Gone. Gone. The word repeats itself in my head. I can't help but let out a moan of sorrow as I bury my head in my hands. Madison, the only person I cared for in this competition...gone. Taken by the Rogue Dawn.