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Alaric slipped through the palace gates just as the first light of dawn touched the rooftops. He was exhausted, both from the lack of sleep and the thrill of the previous evening. His thoughts were filled with Aveline, her touch, her words, and especially their kiss. He knew the risks he was taking, but somehow, every stolen moment with her felt worth it.
As he crept down the corridor to his chambers, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice cut through the silence.
"Up all night, were we, Your Highness?"
Alaric whirled around to find Geoffrey, his ever-vigilant personal attendant, standing by his door with a knowing look. Geoffrey was dressed impeccably as usual, his graying hair perfectly combed and his arms crossed in a stance that was both stern and, frustratingly, a bit amused.
"Geoffrey!" Alaric whispered, trying to keep his voice down. "What are you doing lurking outside my room?"
"Waiting for you, of course," Geoffrey said with a sigh, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous gleam. "One of us has to make sure you don't get yourself into trouble. And judging by the dirt on your boots and the twigs in your hair, you've had quite the adventure."
Alaric hastily brushed at his hair, wincing as he realized Geoffrey was right—he was in a state. "It's… it's not what you think."
"Oh, isn't it?" Geoffrey raised an eyebrow, his expression as skeptical as ever. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but I believe I know you better than that. Now, if you'll kindly step into your room, I'll see if I can make you look a bit more… princely."
Alaric had no choice but to follow Geoffrey inside, trying to suppress his laughter as Geoffrey fussed over him, muttering under his breath about the "antics" of young royals and "the dignity of the crown." Alaric tried to look contrite, but Geoffrey's commentary made it nearly impossible.
"And here I was," Geoffrey continued, "hoping that you were finally settling down. Perhaps taking an interest in… appropriate pursuits."
"Oh, believe me, I am," Alaric muttered, his thoughts drifting to Aveline. He couldn't help but smile, and Geoffrey caught it immediately.
The attendant narrowed his eyes, leaning in as if he were examining a priceless artifact with a flaw. "That smile, Your Highness… that's the smile of a young man who has either done something very foolish or very… enchanting."
Alaric tried to shrug nonchalantly, though he knew Geoffrey was far too observant to be fooled. "I think enchanting is a good word for it, actually."
Geoffrey threw his hands up in exasperation. "Of all the responsibilities you have, of all the duties waiting for you in this palace… But no, it's enchantment you're after."
Alaric couldn't help but laugh, and the sound echoed through the room. Geoffrey, though pretending to be annoyed, allowed himself a small chuckle as he returned to his task.
"Tell me, Your Highness," Geoffrey began, as he adjusted Alaric's tunic and straightened his collar, "does this young woman at least know who you are?"
Alaric's smile faltered. "She… well, she knows who I am, but not who I am."
Geoffrey groaned, rubbing his temples. "Wonderful. Anonymity and romance—an excellent combination, if one is fond of high-stakes foolishness. Let me guess—you've told her you're a humble traveler?"
"A simple villager, actually," Alaric corrected, trying to keep his tone light. "It's not like I'm lying… I'm just… omitting details."
"Details like the fact that you're the future king?" Geoffrey's voice was dripping with sarcasm, but there was also a trace of concern.
Alaric sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. He hadn't intended for things to go this far, hadn't planned on falling for Aveline. But now, he couldn't imagine his life without her.
"I'll tell her," he promised, though the words sounded uncertain even to his own ears. "Just… not yet."
Geoffrey shook his head, clearly unconvinced. "Well, let's hope that this little… affair doesn't end in disaster. Though, if I may say so, Your Highness, disaster has a way of finding you."
Alaric smirked, clapping Geoffrey on the shoulder. "That's why I have you, Geoffrey—to keep me out of trouble."
"Or perhaps to witness it all," Geoffrey muttered as he led Alaric to the door. "Now, go attend to your duties. There's a council meeting at noon, and your father expects you there promptly. And for the love of the kingdom, try not to fall asleep."
Alaric groaned inwardly. A council meeting was the last place he wanted to be. But he nodded, thanking Geoffrey before heading off to the meeting room. As he walked down the grand corridors, the polished marble floors and high archways felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the open fields and quiet forests of Aveline's world.
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The council meeting was as tedious as he'd expected, a long discussion about trade routes and tariffs and other matters that seemed trivial compared to the thoughts swirling in his mind. Alaric tried to focus, but his mind kept drifting back to Aveline, to the feeling of her hand in his, to the way her eyes had softened when he'd told her he wished he could be someone worthy of her.
"Your Highness?"
Alaric snapped out of his reverie, realizing that every eye in the room was on him. His father, King Edric, raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
"Perhaps you could enlighten us with your thoughts on the matter of the Eastern border," the king prompted, his tone polite but firm.
Alaric scrambled for an answer, wracking his brain for anything they'd discussed in the last hour. "Well, I… uh… I believe that diplomacy is… always a wise course," he said vaguely, hoping it sounded thoughtful.
A few of the council members exchanged glances, and Alaric could have sworn he heard a muffled snicker from the far end of the table. His father gave him a long, disappointed look before turning back to the council, smoothly taking over the conversation.
Alaric slumped in his chair, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. He was fairly certain that everyone in the room knew he hadn't been paying attention, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he could think about was how he'd rather be back in the village, back with Aveline, rather than sitting through another mind-numbing discussion.
When the meeting finally adjourned, Alaric made a hasty exit, his mind already racing with plans. He had to see Aveline again, had to explain the words he hadn't had the courage to say the night before. But as he made his way down the hall, he nearly collided with his father, who was watching him with a stern expression.
"Alaric," the king said, his tone laced with disappointment. "A word."
Alaric sighed, nodding as he followed his father into a nearby chamber. Once they were alone, the king turned to him, his gaze hard.
"I don't know what's gotten into you lately," the king began, his voice low. "But I've noticed a… change in you. You're distracted, unfocused. This is not the behavior I expect from my son and heir."
Alaric bit back a retort, knowing it would only make things worse. Instead, he forced himself to nod, doing his best to look contrite.
"I understand, Father," he said, though he knew his words sounded hollow. "I'll… I'll do better."
The king studied him for a moment, his gaze sharp. "See that you do. You have a responsibility to this kingdom, Alaric. Whatever you're doing, whoever you're spending time with… remember where your loyalties lie."
Alaric nodded, swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat. He knew his father was right, knew that his duty was to the kingdom. But as he walked away, his heart ached with the knowledge that he was being pulled in two different directions—one toward the life he was born into, and the other toward the life he was beginning to build with Aveline.
And as he thought of her, he couldn't help but smile, despite the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. Because somehow, despite everything, she made it all feel worth it.
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