🍁 Nameria
***†***†***†***
My birth was a mistake.
Short version; I was assigned the wrong sex in utero.
Long version; at the end of her first trimester, an intern too tired to spell her own name told my mother she was carrying a boy.
Rumor has it the royal family feasted for a whole week after that test. My father even picked a name — Prince Nolan. The name was sung through the palace halls like a prophecy.
Then I was born.
And I wasn’t a Nolan.
My mother screamed. My father fainted. One of my aunts reportedly went into shock. The royal officials wept like the nation itself had been cursed.
Official statements were released that there would, in fact, be no Prince Nolan.
In his place stood me. Princess Nameria.
Turns out, being born a girl is a curse in my family.
Why? You ask.
Well… let me tell you a story.
***†***†***†***
“I'll be gentle,” he whispers
“I don't care, just do it.”
His lips hover close to mine for a second before he pulls me close.
Every forbidden kiss hits different.
His kiss tastes like rebellion. Salt and sweat, mixed up with a rush of stolen heat in the quiet corners of the palace.
I fist the front of his uniform, dragging him closer like he’s oxygen and I’ve been drowning for years.
If we're honest, I've been drowning for years.
These stolen moments are what keep me alive. So I try to make the most of them. Unsuccessfully.
His hands shake when they touch my waist—half desire, half fear.
We both know this is dangerous. But that’s the point. The thrill of getting caught is way more intoxicating than the idea of being touched by someone who should be protecting me.
“Fuck!” I gasp when his hands slide lower, heat burning up my spine.
“You're sure you want this?” He asks into my ear, pressing hot kisses down my neck.
“Ask that again and you'll lose your head,” I warn.
It's all heat and frantic heartbeats when my door slams open.
“Nameria!” My mother’s voice rings out, sharp and furious.
Collins jolts back, paling.
I almost laugh, wiping my lips.
"Princess Nameria." She storms in, her eyes wide and wild as if I’ve summoned hell itself.
"Hi, Mum."
“How many times have I warned you about this?” she shouts
I sigh and gesture for Collins to leave.
He bows, then scurries away.
“You’ve damned us all,” she whispers, horror carving lines into her face. “Your father will be furious.”
Romantic entanglements are strictly forbidden for members of the royal family.
Especially for the first princess to grace the bloodline after five generations of male heirs.
It's even worse if she's unclaimed and unmarried.
I've been living with the title ‘crown princess’ for so long that just for the sake of it, I break a few rules here and there to see if I'm indeed someone untouchable or people are just crazy and I'm nobody.
Being a nobody would be better, I think.
This time, I might have gone too far. But it's not like my mother's never seen me with a man before.
“What the hell were you thinking?” She has her hands on her waist as she paces the length of my room.
I lie back in bed, thinking of the opportunity she just ruined for me.
“It's just sex, mother. It's not a death sentence.”
“You have no idea what you've done.”
“I was having fun.”
“Having fun?” She scoffs. “Having fun at the expense of the entire human species? Do you know what will happen if word of this got out?”
“Yeah, I won't find a husband, I know. Have you stopped to think that maybe I don't want a husband?”
Her pacing halts, her sharp gaze meeting mine. “It doesn't matter what you want.”
“Really? So a princess just does what she's told?”
“A princess doesn't have the luxury of recklessness. You don't get to be careless with your future, Nameria.”
“Why?” I sit up, my excitement slithering away. “Why can't I when my cousins are off doing whatever they want?”
“Your cousins don't have the word crown bound to their title. You have a duty to your people.”
“I was born queen, I don't need marriage for that.”
She grunts, rubbing her left palm over her face and slumping on the couch next to her.
“Nameria, you don't understand how serious this issue is.”
“No, I understand perfectly that you want me all untouched and saintly for a husband I'm yet to meet so my children will be of pure royal blood but…”
“That's not the problem.”
“Then what is, Mother?” I snap. “Why can't I live my life the way I want?”
She looks up at me, defeat registered on her face.
"I can't tell you this."
"Tell me what?"
She shakes her head. “You weren't supposed to find out until you turned twenty-five.”
I frown. “Find out what?”
“You...you're betrothed.”
Her words knock the life right out of my chest, leaving in its place a hollow ache.
The air folds in on itself, sound slips away, and all I hear is the blood roaring in my ears.
“I'm what?”
She lifts from the couch, walks over to me and gently touches my face like that makes it better.
“I didn't want you to find out like this.”
“Stop,” I whisper, jerking away. “What do you mean I'm betrothed?”
“The agreement was made long before you were born,” she says softly. “A pact sealed in blood. If his people find out you’re not as pure as you should be...”
“Then what?”
"It..." she hesitates, voice breaking. “It could mean the end of our world.”
Purity. Blood pact. End of the world.
The words loop, slicing through my skull.
“What do you mean the end of the world? Who is he?” My throat feels tight. “Who’s strong enough to make you afraid?”
Her eyes shutter. “The Pale Monarch.”
I blink, her words slipping from my mind.
“Baby, say something.” She reaches out to touch me again.
“The Pale Monarch?” I step back, an ugly, cracked sound leaving my throat. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish I was.”
“How could…” my words trip and I choke, trying as hard as fuck not to cry. “How could you marry me off that...that...he's a monster!”
“You don't understand the terms of this agreement.”
“I don’t need to!” I snap. “You sold me off!”
Her shoulders slump. “It was never supposed to be you. We could have changed things at your birth but…”
“Oh, stop it,” I cut her off. “I’ve heard this story before. You wanted a son, but got a daughter. I’m a disappointment, I know.”
“Baby, that’s not—”
“Get out,” I say, voice shaking. “Get out before I say something I'll regret.”
“Nameria…”
“GET OUT!”
She hesitates, eyes soft with guilt, then turns away.
“I’ll find a way to fix this,” she murmurs. “I’ll appease the king. You don’t have to worry.”
The second the door closes behind her, I sink to the floor, breathing heavy as her words replay in my head.
“I'm betrothed?” I whisper to no one.
🌺🌺🌺🌺
Six hours of overthinking and room pacing, and I still can't figure out how at twenty-four, I'm engaged to a man that's as ancient as time.
I've learnt about the Duskborne in school enough to know their leader is some great ancestor people fear and respect.
The man could be an old pile of bones at the moment and I'm expected to just…marry him.
How?
“Pumpkin,” my father's voice breaks through the haze of my mind.
His soft knocking gentle at my door.
“Come in, dad.”
The lock turns, the wood splitting slightly and he steps inside holding a tray.
“You didn't join us for dinner.”
He starts towards the resting area, sets down the tray and gestures for me to go over.
I pull away from the balcony and join him on the couch.
“I'm not really hungry.”
“Your mother told me about your…”
“Marriage,” I blurt, because I'm not calling it anything else. “How did this happen, dad? How am I betrothed to a bloodsucker?”
“Bloodsucker, really? He's not that bad.”
My brows raise in question. “Not that bad? He's an old skeleton who hunts people for blood.”
“Baby...”
“Why did you allow this? The man is a thousand years older than me.”
“You know the Evernight Treaty?” he asks
I nod. "The peace treaty signed between the humans and the Duskborne."
“That treaty states that the Pale Monarch is supposed to get a human wife. That wife being a pure-blooded princess.”
“Why me? I have cousins and aunts. Pick one of them.”
“They’re not pure enough, sweetheart. Not like you.”
I grunt. “Oh, I hate being a princess."
“Come now, I know this came as a surprise but it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“I would have voted for later.”
“I really don't want to get married.”
“I know, baby, I know.”
Groaning, I slump back on the couch, hands flying up to cover my face.
“Mum said something about the end of the world if I break this treaty, is that true?”
“Yes, we cannot afford to anger the Duskborne again.”
“Again?” I let my head fall to the side, looking at his smoothly aged face. “It's happened before?”
“The treaty, no. But years ago, the humans did something to anger them and the war that followed was brutal.”
“Why did I have to be the first princess after all this time?” I ask, pouting.
He takes my hand and smiles. “It's okay, your mother will handle things. She always does.”
“You mean marry me off to someone who might fancy my blood more than he fancies me?”
“No, she's setting a meeting with their council to discuss the way forward. It's only two weeks to your birthday.”
I shoot up so fast my spine cracks. “Fuck! I need more time.”
I'd totally forgotten about my birthday with the sudden news of my betrothal.
If I'm to get married in two weeks, I'll hang myself.
“More time?” He asks
“More time to stop this wedding,” I say and grab my phone from the table
“Nameria…what are you planning?”
I look down at him and smile. “Don’t worry, Dad. If the universe wants to marry me off to a fossil, it’s gonna have to fight me first.”
****†****
# Duskborne - a collective name for the supernaturals.
# Pale Monarch - a title given to the Duskborne king by the humans.
