Here's an expanded version of y
Princess Celestine stormed through the grand corridors of the palace, her footsteps echoing off the marble floors. Her fists were clenched, her breathing shallow, and her mind raced with a storm of emotions—anger, sadness, betrayal. Why her? Every other member of the royal family had been granted the freedom to choose their partners, regardless of class or status. Her mother, a merchant's daughter, had been handpicked by her father out of love. Why was she the exception? Why was she being used as a pawn in this fragile peace alliance?
A peace alliance destined to crumble, she thought bitterly.
She didn't slow down as she reached her chambers. The sight of her ornate wedding gown—delivered just hours ago—was the final straw. The dress was a mockery of her plight, a shimmering symbol of her cage. It hung there, adorned with jewels that could feed starving families in Sylvaris that he wanted to save so badly
Her anger erupted. Grabbing a pair of scissors from her vanity, she charged at the dress, her vision blurred by tears. "If they want peace, they can sew it from rags, but I will not wear this!"
The maids in the room froze for a moment, then rushed to stop her. "Princess, please!" one cried, her voice high-pitched with panic. "You'll ruin it!"
Another, braver than the rest, darted forward, snatched the dress from the stand, and scurried out of the room as Celestine waved the scissors wildly. "Cowards! Bring it back! If I can't have my freedom, I won't let him have his spectacle!"
"Princess, calm yourself!" pleaded one of the maids, clinging to her arm. But Celestine jerked away, her fury unrestrained.
"He can't do this to me! He can't just upend my world for some fragile alliance!" she yelled, pacing the room.
"You speak as if you have a choice," came a deep, stern voice from the doorway.
The room fell silent as King Aldric entered, his imposing figure framed by the golden light of the corridor behind him. The maid who had fled now cowered behind him, clutching the dress as though her life depended on it.
Celestine turned to face him, her chest heaving. "You—" she spat the word like poison. "You would sacrifice your own daughter for this charade?"
Aldric's gaze was steady, unyielding. "I would sacrifice anything for the survival of Sylvaris, including my own blood. This marriage is not up for debate."
She stepped closer, her voice shaking. "You were free to choose. Mother was free to choose. Even Cousin Alaric married the blacksmith's daughter because he loved her! Why am I the only one denied that right?"
"Because your choice isn't just about you," he snapped, his voice echoing with the weight of his authority. "Do you think I enjoy this? Watching my daughter glare at me as though I am her enemy? Do you think I want to give you to Tharavos?"
"Then don't!" she cried, the tears she'd been holding back finally spilling over. "Don't send me to them like a lamb to slaughter. They will never accept me. They hate me as much as I hate them!"
Aldric's expression softened for a fleeting moment, but he quickly masked it with his usual sternness. "Hate can be tamed, Celestine. Love, even, can grow from it. But war cannot be undone so easily. If this alliance fails, Sylvaris will not survive another siege."
"And what if it does fail? What if your grand plan leaves me widowed, broken, or worse?"
"You'll adapt," he said, his tone hardening again. "You're a princess of Sylvaris, and you will do your duty. Even if not as your father, I command this as your king: you will marry Prince Kaelen of Tharavos, or there will be no place for you in this palace."
Celestine's breath hitched, the weight of his words crushing her defiance. She dropped the scissors to the floor, the sharp clatter echoing through the silent room.
Aldric nodded to the maid, who quickly brought the dress forward. "You may hate me now," he said, his voice quieter, almost regretful. "But one day, you will understand."
He turned and left without another word, the maids bowing as he passed. Celestine stood there, her chest rising and falling with suppressed sobs, the bejeweled gown gleaming in the dim light like a symbol of her defeat.
One of the maids hesitantly placed a hand on her arm. "Princess... would you like us to—"
"Leave me," Celestine said, her voice raw. The maids scurried out, leaving her alone with her grief.
Celestine sank to the floor, staring at the gown. "I won't forgive you for this," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she was speaking to her father, to herself, or to the kingdom she was now bound to betray.
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