The room was heavy with silence, the kind that crackled with nerves and unsaid words.
Alex cleared his throat. "It's alright by me... if you don't mind," he said, forcing a smile, his fingers fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve.
Lucas turned, eyes scanning the room, landing on Rosella. He offered her a small, hopeful smile.
"Rosella?" he asked gently.
Rosella shifted uncomfortably, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Uhm..."
[She fiddled with the hem of her dress, visibly battling herself.]
"Come on, guys," she said, voice trembling slightly. "You all know I never even wanted the marriage in the first place." She let out a shaky laugh, her bravado crumbling. "Uhm... okay. I'm good. It's... it's fine by me too."
Lucas breathed out a soft laugh, relief washing over him like a tide.
"Thank you," he whispered, stepping closer. "Thank you so much."
He turned, looking now at his parents. His hand, trembling slightly, rose in a gesture of appreciation.
"Mom? Dad?"
King George — gruff, stern King George — actually chuckled, lifting his goblet in salute.
"If your bride is content, then why should I be the sour grape at the feast?" he said, winking before taking a long sip.
Beside him, king George gave a warm, approving nod. "Warms the heart, son."
Lucas swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. "Thanks, Mom... Dad... Rosella.. and Queen Alexandra," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
He caught Samantha's eye across the room. She offered him a small, proud smile — a quiet acknowledgment only they understood.
#####$$
**3 weeks later**
At the Training Grounds
The sun was just beginning to cast its golden glow over the training grounds. Samantha stood at one corner, adjusting the straps of her practice gear, her muscles already humming with the familiar anticipation of battle.
Today was not an ordinary day — the training was about to commence after weeks of tension and subtle silence that blanketed the palace like morning mist.
Samantha glanced around and spotted Louis approaching, his usual lively step slightly tempered by the solemnity of the past few weeks.
She smiled — a genuine one — feeling the warmth creep back into her chest.
Her smile faltered for a heartbeat as she remembered Rosella
Ever since the arranged meeting with her soon-to-be husband, Rosella had grown increasingly distant, her spirit dulled, like a once-vibrant flower struggling under the weight of a storm.
She hardly spoke anymore, often retreating into her chambers, her laughter — once so infectious — now a memory that echoed faintly in the corridors of the castle.
Samantha missed her nagging and terrifying words too. Funny, isn't it?
But Samantha understood that Rosella only wanted Queen Alexandra's approval.
But today, she promised herself, was about new beginnings. Training, movement, action — maybe even hope.
She straightened her back, set her jaw, and called out, "Come on, slowpokes! Are we training today or waiting for the sun to set first?"
Louis laughed, jogging the rest of the way over. "Careful, Princess, or I might just beat you today."
"You?" Samantha arched a brow, mock-serious. "I'd worry more about keeping your balance than beating me."
The familiar banter stirred something lighter in the air — a welcome change.
Across the field, the other trainees began gathering, the clinking of swords, murmurs of greetings, and the sharp scent of morning dew mixing with the sound of awakening hope.
For the first time in weeks, Samantha felt it —
Change was coming.
And maybe, just maybe, not all of it was bad.