The ceremonies organized by the Douglases were known for their brevity. The kingdom's nobility attended more out of obligation than enthusiasm, and although no one dared refuse an invitation from the duchy, few truly enjoyed their company. The Douglases commanded respect... but also fear.
One hour after the ceremony had ended, Lusian was saying goodbye to Emily and the Carter family. Everything had gone according to plan, without incident. However, inside him, a faint exhaustion had begun to press on his shoulders. One last meeting still remained.
In a private room of the Temple of Sangus, Queen Adelaine Erkhan Stanley, Crown Prince Andrew, and First Princess Elizabeth were waiting for him. As soon as Sophia and Lusian entered, the queen gave a calm order:
—Have all the servants leave.
The air seemed to grow denser. Lusian instinctively anticipated a diplomatic conversation, rigid and filled with protocol constraints. But what happened next left him completely bewildered.
Adelaine and Sophia embraced.
Not a cold gesture nor a formal bow, but a sincere, warm hug, like old friends reunited after far too long. Then they interlaced their hands and sat together, laughing naturally, like two ordinary women escaping—at least for a few minutes—the titles that bound them.
Lusian watched the scene with a certain fascination. It was strange to see his mother, the Duchess Douglas, smile like that.
But everything had an explanation.
Since the founding of the kingdom, there had been an ancestral oath between the Crown and the Duchy of Douglas: to protect the kingdom's stability together. In theory, it was a sacred pact. In practice, things had changed.
The current king, Philip Erkhan Stanley, had inherited more resentment than wisdom.
His younger brother, Prince Jeremy, attempted to usurp the throne by leading a rebellion with several nobles, including Viscount Ricardo Jones. To prevent a civil war, the then Duke Damian Douglas, Lusian's grandfather, executed Jeremy with the approval of the regent at the time, Adrian Erkhan Brown, Philip's father.
Even so, Philip never forgave the Douglases.
Since then, the king avoided any direct dealings with the duchy, delegating everything to his wife, Queen Adelaine. Laurence Douglas did exactly the same, entrusting those matters to Sophia.
That was why what looked like a conversation between friends was, in reality, a meeting between the two true intermediaries of power.
Lusian was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't notice when someone approached him.
—Tea? —a soft voice asked.
He blinked and looked up. Princess Elizabeth stood before him, holding a cup with elegance. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her blue eyes shimmered with a lively, almost mischievous spark.
For a moment, Lusian was left speechless.
Elizabeth Erkhan Stanley.
He recognized her instantly. In the game, she was the Demon Queen: the princess kidnapped by a cult, turned into a vessel for an infernal entity. Her story was the most tragic... and, in a sense, the most human.
—Is something wrong? —Elizabeth asked with an amused smile—. Do I have something on my face?
—No, Your Highness —he replied, regaining his composure—. I just got distracted for a moment.
But Elizabeth's smile turned sharper... even dangerous. And she was not alone.
At the other end of the hall, Prince Andrew was watching him with the same entertained expression, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. Clearly, they were plotting something.
Elizabeth sighed with flawless theatrics, placing a hand over her face.
—Oh, Lusian... were you thinking about your fiancée? Are you really going to abandon me for her?
Before he could react, Andrew walked over and gave him an exaggerated pat on the back.
—So you made my sister cry! First you make her fall in love, then you ignore her. What a cruel man you are, Douglas!
Lusian looked at him without understanding. Were they really doing this?
Suddenly, fragments of the original Lusian came to mind: similar scenes, with the two princes constantly bothering him whenever they could. Now he understood why he avoided them.
He looked at his mother for help, but Sophia was still chatting cheerfully with the queen. Not a single glance in his direction.
He sighed.
—Tell me, Your Highness —he asked without emotion—, when exactly did I make you fall in love?
Elizabeth put on a thoughtful face.
—It was love at first sight. Are you really not going to accept my feelings and take responsibility?
Lusian narrowed his eyes.
—And when was this love born?
—When you were seven years old —she replied with absolute certainty—. You were so adorable... I fell in love then.
Seven years old? That meant she was nine.
Very well. If they wanted to play, he could play too.
With a soft, seductive tone, completely intentional, he replied:
—Why didn't you tell me earlier, my sweet princess? We could have announced our engagement that very same day.
Elizabeth blushed slightly, but did not back down.
—I didn't tell you before... but I like you, Lusian.
Andrew raised a hand as if performing a solemn act.
—As future monarch, I officially approve this union.
Lusian looked at him calmly.
—Unbearable —he muttered.
And without thinking too much, he did something that in his previous life had always worked when someone annoyed him too much:
He kicked the Crown Prince in the shin.
—Agh! —Andrew let out a small strangled cry, doubling over in pain.
Lusian, completely calm, sat next to Sophia with total innocence. Queen Adelaine and Duchess Sophia, who had witnessed the scene, exchanged an amused glance. The queen let out a small laugh; Sophia pinched her son's cheek.
—Behave yourself, Lusian —she whispered with an indulgent smile.
Andrew rubbed his leg, indignant, while Elizabeth laughed without restraint.
—It seems Lusian has changed, mother —she commented.
—Yes, daughter —Adelaine replied serenely—. He's no longer the shy boy they used to tease. Right, Andrew?
The prince growled something unintelligible. The two women smiled, amused. The little Douglas was no longer a child.
That night, when Lusian and Sophia returned to the Douglas mansion, the silence of the carriage was comforting. Upon reaching his room, Lusian collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.
He did not think about politics, nor engagements, nor gods.
He only muttered one word before falling asleep:
—...unbearable.
And so, amidst laughter, blood secrets, and a destiny beginning to move, the day ended in which the life of Lusian Douglas began to change.