Chapter nine.

Prince Melus's POV.

I felt like a complete fool, yet strangely disconnected from everything around me. Despite the fact that I had done nothing wrong, his mere presence and the assumption he'd made had left me feeling numb. And despite the confusion and hurt, my body had responded differently when he'd been with me—I'd felt a spark, a sudden surge of electricity that left me feeling breathless. But that brief moment of connection had quickly faded, leaving behind only a tangled mess of emotions.

The thought of his slight frame and the desire to touch and explore it left me feeling conflicted. It was as if my body was drawn to his, like an undeniable pull that I couldn't shake. But despite the intensity of those feelings, I knew it was important to take things slow. Rushing into things would only complicate an already tangled situation. I had to remember that emotions were a delicate thing, and treading carefully was the only way forward.

The dynamic between us had shifted, and I couldn't ignore the change. For the first time in a long while, I found myself questioning my own desires and actions. My mind kept tugging at me, insisting that something was different, something I couldn't quite pinpoint.

As I hovered over the maid, ready to indulge our mutual desires, I suddenly felt unable to move forward. The thought of Simon, that small servant boy, invaded my mind, clouding my judgment and pulling me in a new direction. It was as if my whole world had been turned upside down, and I couldn't help but wonder what this new feeling meant for me.

As I grappled with these newfound feelings and questions, I found myself at a loss. My hands instinctively rose to cover my face, my mind racing as I tried to think of ways to get him to understand. But in the midst of this turmoil, a thought emerged—why did I feel the need to explain myself to him? It was a confusing and unsettling realization, one that left me questioning the very foundation of our relationship.

Until now, I hadn't given much thought to his opinions or feelings. For me, it had all been nothing more than a trivial game. But suddenly, the situation felt far more complex. As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, snapping me back to reality. I straightened my clothing and called out for them to enter, my voice echoing loudly through the room.

To my dismay, it was not the maid I had been with earlier, but her presence still sent an unsettling chill through me. Bowing respectfully, she delivered her message: "Your father summons you. He says your wife-to-be is here." Before I could respond, she disappeared as quickly as she had come, the doors shutting with a resounding thud. In that moment, I felt as if the walls were closing in around me, the weight of my impending marriage pressing down upon me like a heavy burden.

And just like that, everything became a bit more complicated. The world felt like a Rubik's Cube I couldn't quite solve, and every twist and turn seemed to make things worse, not better. I didn't know what to do.I still felt lost. Adrift in the vast ocean of life, without a compass or a chart to guide me. My thoughts were muddled, like a river after a storm, and I felt more helpless than ever.

As my feet carried me down the palace's polished corridors, curiosity was my only guide. Here I was, about to meet the woman I was to marry, and I couldn't help but think this was all happening too fast. But I knew, deep down, that it was my own doing. In a moment of weakness, I'd told my father to find me a wife, never expecting him to actually succeed. And now, here I was, about to face the consequences of my own words.

My footsteps echoed off the walls as I descended the palace's grand staircase, each step bringing me closer to the moment of truth. My stomach churned like a tempest-tossed sea, my heart pounded like a war drum. The closer I got to the woman who would be my bride, the more uncertain I became. Could I really marry a woman I'd never met? Could I make her happy, knowing how I felt? The thoughts swirled in my head, tangling into knots as I rounded the final bend and came face-to-face with my future.

As I stepped into the throne room, the towering doors swung open on their own, revealing a sight that was both breathtaking and nerve-wracking. On either side of the room, rows upon rows of maids and servants stood at attention, like soldiers awaiting their orders. Their gazes fell upon me, and the silence that filled the room was deafening.

My father sat on his throne, his expression inscrutable as he surveyed the room. Beside him, standing at his right hand, was the woman I believed was to be my wife. Her figure was shrouded in a gown of rich velvet, the color of a midnight sky, the hooded cloak obscuring her face. My eyes were drawn to the flickering of candlelight on the golden embroidery that wove across the fabric, like a tapestry of secrets.

My footsteps slowed as I crossed the expanse of the throne room, my senses heightened by the anticipation and uncertainty that coursed through me. With each step, the whispers of doubt grew louder, drowning out the sound of my own heartbeat. As I neared the throne, the shadows seemed to shift, as if the very air itself held its breath. Finally, I stood before the throne, my eyes fixed on the woman in front of me, a sea of questions separating us.

My eyes roamed the throne room, seeking the face I knew, the one face I didn't want to find. But he was nowhere to be seen, and my heart twisted with relief and regret. Perhaps he was too ill to attend, and my brother's words had been true. And yet, a tiny voice in my head whispered a warning that all was not as it seemed.

I turned my attention back to the woman in front of me, my hand trembling as I slowly lifted the hood of her cloak. The light caught her face, and I was struck by her beauty.

"this is princess Camilla from the kingdom of Ashyn. she travelled long and far to meet you. does she suit your need?" my father asked questioningly.

My chin dipped in the barest of nods, the only response I could muster. Words eluded me, leaving a void in my mind, and I chided myself for my silence. After all, this arrangement had come to pass because of my request, yet here I was, unable to articulate a single coherent thought.

Her smile never faltered as her eyes remained fixed on me, as if she could sense the turmoil within me. It was a smile that held secrets, a smile that seemed to know more about my feelings than I myself did.

Her voice was like honey, sweet and thick with amusement. "You are quite handsome, that much is true," she said, her smile widening. "But it is intriguing that you have no sweet words for me, my prince. That is rather harsh of you, is it not?" Her laughter rang out like bells, filling the throne room with its melody.

"She has humor indeed," my father remarked, and the heavy silence that had gripped the throne room dissipated like smoke.

There was nothing wrong with her, nothing to criticize or complain about. Princess Camilla was everything I had not dared to imagine, and yet, as she stood within arm's reach of me, I felt nothing. No flutter of excitement, no surge of joy. Only a profound, crushing guilt for my indifference.

As the introductions continued, I watched with growing curiosity as a young man stepped forward from the crowd. While shorter than me, he towered over my little brother, yet they shared the same air of youthful beauty. He was Prince Adar, Princess Camilla's brother, and I noticed my brother's interest piqued at the sight of him. His gaze lingered on Adar, unmoving and unapologetic.

I led Princess Camilla through the palace, eager to impress and show off my contributions. We traversed the halls, admired the gardens, and even ventured into the kitchen, where the aroma of fresh bread and spices filled the air. From the balcony, we gazed out over the village, the sound of hammers and saws rising from the renovation works I had spearheaded. "This is all your doing?" she asked, glancing at me with a hint of admiration. "You have a good heart, my prince."

As the day waned, Princess Camilla turned to me with a tired, yet polite smile. "The palace is lovely, but I must rest now. Until tomorrow, Prince Melus," she said, bowing gracefully before taking her leave.

Though my mind whispered of the comfort of my chambers, my feet led me to a different path, until I found myself standing outside the servant's quarters. There, the door of the young man who had captured my attention beckoned, and my hand rose of its own accord to knock.

The sound of my knuckles rapping against the wooden door seemed to echo in the silence of the servant's chamber. Two knocks, and then the third time, I barged in, shutting the door with a decisive click behind me.

There he was, the object of my fascination. His eyes widened in shock, but I saw the struggle within him, the unspoken command that dared not pass his lips: leave. And yet, I stood my ground, determined to discover he feelings towards me as of late.

Simon's POV.

I attempted to retreat, step by step, only to find the distance between us shortening instead. His presence was like a magnet, pulling me closer and closer, though I resisted with every fiber of my being.

"What am I to do now?" I thought, my mind reeling as I envisioned him marrying his future wife, a princess of unparalleled beauty. I could never compete, not with her. Yet here he was, standing before me, threatening to upend the very foundations of my world.

And there we were, in the privacy of my chamber, our gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. My mind raged against the very thing my heart yearned for. Yet, when our lips met, the war within ceased, replaced by an intense, all-consuming fire that burned away all resistance.

Clothes fell to the floor like leaves in autumn, exposing the vulnerable, untamed desire that lay beneath. We tumbled onto the bed, our hands and bodies entwined in a dance as old as time itself.

Lost in the haze of passion, the world outside my chamber ceased to exist. My body, so long restrained by duty and expectation, gave way to the primal urges that had been brewing beneath the surface. The fire that had sparked with our kiss raged, consuming us both, until we were left gasping, sated and trembling in the aftermath of our shared ecstasy.

Yet as we lay in each other's arms, the weight of what had transpired began to settle upon us and even as everything had changed and I felt so very new. I needed more, he still needed to give me more. My body hadn't had enough of him yet.

(I know I robbed y'all but trust there will be what y'all are looking for hey :)]