Chapter15
A carriage rattled along the dusty road, its wheels throwing clouds of dirt into the air. Soldiers snapped to attention, eyes wide with surprise.
John squinted at the approaching figure, noting every detail. White hair gleamed under the sun, and striking red eyes surveyed the camp with calm authority. A soft, confident smile tugged at his lips, as if he already knew the effect his presence would have.
Prince: "Where is the Princess?"
Marco hurried forward, bowing slightly.
Marco: "Your Highness, we weren't expecting such a sudden visit. It is truly an honor to have you here."
The Prince's smile widened, gentle yet commanding.
Prince: "Thank you, Marco. Now… where is our Princess?"
Marco: "She is inside the tent, Your Highness. Please, allow me to lead the way."
The Prince nodded graciously, his gaze briefly scanning the soldiers before following Marco.
Inside the tent, the Princess sat at her desk, focused on her work. Guinevere stood beside her, ensuring everything was in order.
Guinevere: "Everything is ready. We can begin our journey whenever you wish."
Princess: "That's good. Then we shall begin our—"
A sharp knock interrupted her.
Marco (outside): "Your Highness… the Prince of Stonehaven has arrived."
Guinevere froze.
Guinevere: "What?!"
The Princess closed her eyes for a brief moment, exhaling slowly.
Of course… he's here. Oh my God… right now?
She straightened her posture, forcing calmness onto her face, though every part of her wanted to roll her eyes.
Princess (firmly): "Come in."
The tent flap shifted, and the Prince stepped inside. He paused just beyond the entrance, his smile warm and attentive.
Prince: "Good morning, Princess of Peace. I trust you are well?"
The Princess pressed her lips into a thin line. He knows exactly what he's doing.
Princess: "Yes, I am."
He chuckled lightly and took a slow step forward.
Prince: "Perfect timing. I couldn't resist seeing you before you set off on your journey."
The Princess sighed quietly. Guinevere noticed but said nothing.
The Prince looked at Guinevere, then back at the Princess.
Prince: "Princess."
Princess: "Prince."
They stood facing each other, measuring one another in silence. The tension between them was almost tangible.
Marco and Guinevere exchanged a glance before quietly leaving the tent. The Princess gave a small nod as they exited.
Now the Prince's presence felt heavier in the room—calm, yet deliberately imposing.
Prince (smirking slightly): "I hope I'm not interrupting anything… important."
Princess (coldly composed): "You are."
The Prince stepped forward slightly, letting his gaze linger on her.
Prince: "Good. Then my timing is… fortuitous. I would not want you to feel too comfortable."
The Princess flexed her hands at her sides, though her expression remained calm. He's trying to put me off balance… I won't let him.
Princess (steady): "If your goal was to unsettle me, I assure you, it will not succeed."
The Prince's smirk widened.
Prince: "Ah… impressive. I expected less from the Princess of Lumivale."
Her eyes narrowed. Arrogant as ever.
Princess (elegant and measured): "Then you were mistaken. I am exactly as I appear."
Prince (leaning slightly closer): "Is that so? We shall see… though I wonder if your confidence matches your reputation."
The Princess lifted her chin.
Princess: "Enough games. Why are you here? The king sent you. Speak plainly."
The Prince exhaled softly.
Prince (controlled): "Yes. My father sent me. I would not have come otherwise."
The Princess studied him carefully. Arrogance hiding reluctance… I see it now.
Prince (calm but teasing): "Your kingdom struggles. Soon, my lands will provide what yours cannot. Surely you understand your… position in this arrangement."
Princess (composed): "Do not presume to lecture me. I am the ruler of my people, not a pawn to be traded for convenience."
Prince (with faint amusement): "Power without sustenance is meaningless. You will learn to obey where necessary."
The Princess's voice sharpened.
Princess: "I obey no one who believes he can belittle me. Remember that."
She turned sharply, dismissing him with a cold glare.
The Prince paused at the tent flap. A small, confident laugh escaped him.
Prince: "You are stubborn… I like that."
He straightened, calm authority radiating from him, and with a smooth motion stepped toward the exit.
The Princess remained standing in the center of the tent, her hands clenched lightly at her sides. Outwardly, she appeared calm. Inside, however, her thoughts burned.
Arrogant… insufferable…
Her voice suddenly cut through the silence.
Princess: "It's not stubbornness."
The Prince stopped. Slowly, he turned his head back toward her.
Princess: "It's courage. And strength."
She met his gaze without hesitation.
Princess: "Two things your kingdom seems to lack."
For a brief moment, the tent fell completely silent.
The Prince turned fully now, his expression sharpening.
Prince: "What did you say?"
His voice was calm, but a dangerous edge lingered beneath it.
Prince: "You dare speak of my kingdom like that?"
The Princess didn't look away. If anything, her posture grew straighter.
Princess: "Of course I dare. You came here to take me as your future bride… yet when my kingdom stood alone against Draventhia, your armies were nowhere to be found."
The Prince let out a quiet scoff.
Prince: "So that's it?"
He took a few slow steps back into the tent.
Prince: "You're questioning the strength of your own soldiers now?"
The Princess's eyes flashed.
Princess: "If our soldiers were weak, we would not be standing here today."
Her chin lifted slightly. She took a slow breath.
Princess: "Two sides. One that speaks of unity… and another that watches from a distance while others fight alone."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The Prince's gaze grew colder, sharper. Then he gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
Prince: "If you truly despise it so much…"
He stepped closer again, his voice low but firm.
Prince: "Why don't you simply refuse the marriage?"
Outside the Tent
Outside, Marco and Guinevere waited in silence until the Prince finally stepped out. He walked past them without a word, his expression unreadable.
Guinevere watched him leave, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. Only after he disappeared into the darkness did she push the tent flap open. Marco followed behind.
Inside, the Princess stood still, arms folded, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Guinevere studied her for a moment.
Guinevere: "That didn't look pleasant."
The Princess let out a quiet breath.
Princess: "Something… unfortunate happened."
Guinevere crossed her arms.
Guinevere: "What did he say?"
The Princess hesitated.
Princess: "Before leaving… he asked me something."
Guinevere's eyes sharpened.
Guinevere: "And your answer?"
The Princess looked toward the tent entrance.
Princess: "I told him this isn't just a marriage." She paused briefly. "There's more to it."
Marco frowned slightly.
Marco: "More?"
The Princess nodded.
Princess: "He also asked why I don't simply break the marriage."
Guinevere's expression shifted to one of quiet curiosity.
Princess: "And the way he said it… I'm certain of one thing." She looked back at them. "He doesn't truly want to marry me."
Silence settled in the tent.
Guinevere: "Interesting."
The Princess's eyes darkened slightly.
Princess: "There's more… but for now—just wait. Also, Marco, I have work for you."
Marco nodded.
By the River
The river flowed quietly under the pale moonlight. The soft sound of water moving over stones filled the night.
John sat alone on the riverbank, a fishing line cast lazily into the water. He leaned back slightly, watching the current drift by as if he had nowhere else to be.
Footsteps approached behind him.
Esabell: "What are you doing here?"
John didn't turn around.
John: "Fishing."
Esabell raised an eyebrow as she stepped closer.
Esabell: "You can fish?"
John finally glanced over his shoulder, a faint smirk forming.
John: "Yes, I can."
Curious, Esabell moved closer, peering at the bucket beside him. Her eyes widened at the sight of the fish he had caught.
Esabell: "Wow… that's impressive." She crouched slightly, staring at the bounty as if it were a treasure. "Tonight, I'm going to eat a lot of fish."
John's lips curved into a faint smirk.
John: "Eat as much as you like."
As Esabell straightened, she noticed the subtle change in his expression. His jaw was tense, eyes darkened, lips set in a thin line.
Esabell: "You look… upset. Why?"
John's gaze lingered on the river for a moment before he spoke, voice low and measured.
John: "Do you think that prince deserves our Princess?"
Esabell blinked, thoughtful, her gaze turning inward briefly.
Esabell: "It's… not really our concern. They're royalty; they have their own lives."
John shook his head, intensity in his tone.
John: "Even so… they have feelings, right? And sometimes… it matters what they feel."
Esabell smiled faintly, almost wistful, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Esabell: "You're… very protective of her, aren't you?"
John's lips twitched.
John: "You could say that."
She laughed softly, gentle and melodic, her eyes reflecting both amusement and warmth.
Esabell: "You're always so serious… sometimes you should just relax."
John: "And you talk too much."
Esabell laughed softly, a quiet shrug accompanying her smile.
Esabell: "Well… what else can I do? I suppose it's in my nature."
John shook his head, letting out a small sigh.
John: "Let's just drop it, then."
Esabell: "Fine, fine… we'll drop it."
Her eyes wandered to the bucket at his side, brimming with fish.
Esabell: "Your fishing… it's impressive."
John: "I've been doing it since I was a child."
Esabell: "Really? Who taught you?"
John: "My father. He was a master fisherman—patient, skilled, precise. Learned everything from him."
Esabell's expression softened, thoughtful, almost reverent.
Esabell: "It's remarkable… like something out of a legend. One of the eight gods had a son, whose human husband was a fisherman. Their story is… unforgettable. Have you heard it?"
John: "I know bits of it, not the full story."
Esabell: "Your father sounds similar. Calm, deliberate, skilled… steady. I can see where you get it from."
John glanced at her, a small, wry smile tugging at his lips.
John: "I doubt I live up to that comparison."
Esabell: "You already do, in your own way. Don't underestimate it."
A quiet moment passed between them, the river's gentle murmur filling the air. The night seemed softer, suspended, as if it existed just for them.
After a while, Marco appeared, his presence commanding attention.
Marco: "Soldiers, get ready. Our journey begins at first light tomorrow. We head to Stonehaven. Prepare yourselves."
A cheer rose from the group—enthusiasm, anticipation, the spark of adventure lighting their faces.
Esabell glanced at John, her eyes thoughtful.
Esabell: "Looks like our journey begins again."
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, then her tone shifted slightly, curious.
Esabell: "By the way, John, do you really think this marriage is going to happen?"
John: "What do you mean?"
Esabell: "Because… she's not the kind of person to marry just anyone. Not like that."
John's brow furrowed slightly, intrigued.
John: "What do you mean?"
Esabell: "As you said yourself… she's determined, strong, unlike anyone I've seen. And right now, we're on a mission; everything depends on her. Do you really think she would abandon all of this… just to marry?"
John remained quiet, his mind turning over her words—the river of thoughts running between duty, determination, and the mystery of the Princess.
next morning.. Mounting for the Journey
The party was mounted, horses pawing at the ground as dawn broke. The Princess, Guinevere, Marco, John, and the Prince were ready to resume their journey to Stonehaven.
The Princess and the Prince rode side by side, their horses moving in quiet synchrony.
John followed behind, adjusting his reins, but he couldn't stop noticing.
A strange feeling stirred within him—something that felt… wrong. Though he hadn't fully realized it yet, seeing the Princess beside the Prince, so poised and composed, ignited something unfamiliar in his chest.
The Prince glanced at the Princess with calm confidence, a faint smirk on his lips. She remained alert, tense but controlled.
John swallowed hard, unsettled by the strange stirring in his heart. The journey had begun, yet something about their quiet closeness felt as though it had shifted something inside him.
...CHAPTER 15ENDS...