Beneath the surface: Forbidden Love

One

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Marisela

As I approach the age of twenty one, a milestone that symbolizes both freedom and responsibility, a sense of uncertainty lingers in the air. The weight of an impending arranged marriage, an alliance orchestrated by my parents, hangs over me like an oppressive cloud. The prospect of committing to someone I have not chosen, whose face and soul remain unknown, fills me with a profound sense of unease and resentment.

I stand on the threshold of womanhood, yet the path laid out before me feels like a cage, limiting the liberties I've dreamt of embracing. The duties that come with my royal lineage are burdensome, expectations enforced by tradition, demanding I relinquish personal desires for the sake of political alliances and familial honor.

"Marisela! The car is already downstairs waiting for you, are you ready?" My mother calls through my bedroom door.

"Marisela?" She calls again as she steps into my bedroom and I grumble.

Just leave me alone...

"Marisela, show your face." She instructs making me move further into the comfort of my blankets.

"No." I mutter in response. I hear her footsteps move around my bed, slowing down as she nears the side that I lay. I feel the bed dip slightly as she sits on the edge of my bed.

"Marisela, we discussed this, we can't keep playing these games anymore." She sighs, gently removing the blankets to reveal my face. "It was cute when you were sixteen, but you're twenty-one now and this is happening whether you like it or not."

"Its not a game, mother," I frown as I sit up, "you and father are shipping me off to God knows where, to be courted with someone I don't know anything about!" I rant.

"We are not shipping you off," she rolls her eyes, "you were invited by the King himself." She says with an ear splitting grin.

"Of course! because that makes it even better." I mutter sarcastically. "I know nothing about him!"

"He is a king, and that is all that matters." She says sternly. "You are the heir to this thrown and you can not rule this kingdom alone." The harshness of her words cut through like a knife. "You have refused every suitable prince in the past. You have always known this is what is expected of you. You are going to meet the king and that is final."

I refused to say anything to her after that.

I turn my focus to the wall behind her. I feel her tense beside me on the bed.

"You don't have much time, you must get ready," she sighs as she gets up, "when you are done, come and join your father and I for breakfast before your departure." Still without looking at her, I hear her footsteps depart. Once my door is closed and I know she is gone, a stray tear leaves my eye.

I always knew I was just a pawn in my parents affairs. My father made it very clear to me from a young age that a queen can not rule this kingdom alone and my mother just had to throw it in my face, again.

Ever since I turned sixteen, my parents had introduced me to potential Princes that will one day be my future husband and King to Greemalia.

All of them, were without a doubt, a waste of my time. They were all the same. Arrogant and entitled individuals. Their haughty demeanor marked by condescending remarks, disdainful glances, and an overall lack of empathy or humility. Clad in opulent attire, they exuded an aura of privilege, making it clear that they believe they are above the common folk.

However, that had all stopped when I turned eighteen. I didn't ask why, in all honesty I was just glad that I didn't have to go through with it again, I couldn't stand another meeting with an arrogant asshole of a prince.