Chapter 1 - Storm Within the Walls of Falcone
"An alliance marriage."
Cedric repeated his father's words in his mind, hoping it was just a nightmare that would fade when he opened his eyes. But fate never asks for permission.
The room was silent. Too silent for an announcement that would shatter someone's life.
The King still sat on his throne, his face calm—too calm, like a marble statue devoid of feeling. In his hand, a scroll lay tightly rolled. The royal seal had already been broken. Which meant this decision had been final long before Cedric was summoned.
"Father..."
"I know you'll protest." The King's voice cut through, flat. "But as the Crown Prince, your duty isn't to your own heart. It's to this kingdom."
Cedric opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Whatever words wanted to come out got stuck in his throat like thorns.
Elara.
That name screamed inside his chest. Her shy smile in the garden. Her trembling hand the first time they held each other. The little promises they whispered under the old tree.
All of it... now just dust.
"Whose daughter, Father?" His voice came out hoarse, like someone who'd been crying—though his eyes were still dry.
"The Grand Duke's youngest daughter."
Cedric's world stopped.
The Grand Duke. The kingdom's military leader. The Northern Wolf. The man rumored to make enemies surrender with just a stare. And his daughter... what did Cedric know about the Grand Duke's daughter?
Almost nothing. The Duke guarded his family like treasure, sealed tight from palace gossip. All that circulated were whispers: that his youngest was beautiful. That she was spoiled. That she was... dangerous in her own way.
"Father is marrying me to a woman I've never even seen?"
"You'll see her soon enough." The King stood, approaching his son. His hand landed on Cedric's shoulder—a weight that felt like a tombstone. "Wedding preparations will begin next week."
Cedric stepped back. Two steps. His feet carried him to the window without thinking.
Outside, Falcone lived. The sun shone brightly. Children laughed in the palace gardens. Merchants hawked their goods with lively voices. The world spun on, normal, as if nothing had been destroyed today.
Cedric pressed his palm against the cold glass. Beyond his own reflection, he could see a swing in the distance—the place he first saw Elara sitting, five years ago, in her simple dress with that smile that changed everything.
"Elara..." he whispered, barely audible.
Behind him, the door opened.
Cedric turned. A servant entered, carrying another scroll—but this time the seal was different. Not the royal lion. A northern wolf. The Grand Duchy's crest.
"From... from the Grand Duke's family, Your Highness."
Cedric's hands trembled as he received it. The scroll was light, but felt like iron in his grip. He broke the seal carefully, expecting formal words, maybe cold greetings, perhaps...
A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
Cedric picked it up. Just one sentence there, written in purple ink—bold handwriting, unlike most noble ladies:
"I don't want to marry you either. But since we're both forced, at least you should know: I'm not a puppet."
No signature. No greeting. Just that.
Cedric read that sentence three times. Four times.
And for the first time that day, amidst the chaos destroying his life, he felt not just anger or sadness.
He felt... curious.
Who are you, Nia Elizabeth?
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