Elliot Hargrove had never imagined he would become someone important. After all, he was perfectly average. He lived alone in a tiny apartment in the city, spent most of his days crunching numbers in a drab office cubicle, and spent his evenings in a heated debate with himself on the age-old question: does pineapple belong on pizza? (The answer, he believed, was obvious, but that didn't stop the debate.)
He was a man of routine, a man who found comfort in the predictability of life. He made sure to set his alarm at the same time each morning, took the same route to work, and always grabbed a black coffee from the same café on his way to the office. Life had a rhythm, and Elliot was content to dance along to it.
That was, until she walked into his life.
It was a Thursday, just another day like any other, when Elliot found himself standing in line at his usual coffee shop. The place was quaint, filled with mismatched chairs, artfully worn wooden tables, and the faint aroma of roasted beans in the air. It was one of those spots that didn't just serve coffee; it served a sense of belonging. The kind of place where you could lose yourself in a cup of coffee and forget about your daily struggles.
He approached the counter, ready to order his usual black coffee, no sugar, no cream. Simple. But something caught his eye as he placed his order.
Behind the counter stood a woman with sharp features, dark brown eyes that seemed to have seen everything, and an air of effortless authority. She didn't look like the typical barista. There was a fire in her that Elliot couldn't quite place something fierce, independent, and maybe even a little intimidating.
She raised an eyebrow as she took his order. "Just black coffee?" she asked, her tone both curious and skeptical. "No sugar, no milk?"
Elliot blinked, thrown off by her directness. "Uh, yeah. That's how I like it."
She nodded and began preparing the coffee, her movements swift and confident. It was then that Elliot noticed the subtle tension in the air. The shop had a bit of a buzz, but it was more than just the chatter of regular customers. There was something palpable about the place. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"First time here? "She asked, glancing at him as she poured the coffee.
"No," he replied, suddenly feeling out of place. "I come here all the time."
"Hmm," she said, her lips curling into a slight smile. "You just don't strike me as the type."
Elliot furrowed his brows, unsure of what she meant. He was about to ask her what she meant by that when the bell above the door jingled. The stranger had arrived.
He was tall, dressed in a tailored suit that looked like it came from another era, an era that had long passed. His hair was perfectly combed, his eyes sharp, and there was something almost regal about the way he held himself. But it was the way he looked at Elliot that made him freeze.
For a moment, everything around Elliot seemed to disappear. The bustling café, the whir of the espresso machine, even the woman in front of him—everything faded as the stranger approached him. The man's eyes locked onto Elliot's, and for reasons Elliot couldn't explain, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
"You're Elliot Hargrove, aren't you? "the stranger said, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority.
Elliot blinked, suddenly aware of the way people in the café were looking at him. He felt a bit like a deer caught in headlights. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, suddenly wondering if he knew the man. "Who are you?"
The man smiled slightly, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "You don't know me, but I know you." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "You're the heir to the Kingdom of Rivano."
Elliot's mind went blank.
He must have misheard him. That was the only explanation. He shook his head. "I think you have the wrong guy," he said, trying to chuckle to ease the tension. "I'm just a regular guy. I don't know anything about any kingdom."
But the man's expression remained serious. "I wish that were the case, Mr. Hargrove. But the truth is, you've been living in the shadows for far too long. Your birthright, your family's legacy it's all waiting for you."
Elliot didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure if he was dreaming or if this was some sort of elaborate joke. But before he could respond, the barista spoke up from behind the counter, her voice cutting through the strange atmosphere.
"Is everything alright here? "She asked, her eyes narrowing at the man. There was something in her expression that made Elliot think she wasn't buying any of this either.
"I'm just delivering some important news," the man replied smoothly, not taking his eyes off Elliot. "I trust you'll be prepared for what comes next."
Before Elliot could even comprehend what was happening, the man turned on his heel and walked out of the café, leaving nothing but an unsettling silence in his wake.
The barista watched the door close behind him, then looked back at Elliot. "Well, that was weird," she muttered under her breath.
Elliot could only nod in agreement, his mind reeling. "What... What just happened? "
The barista leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "You seriously didn't know who he was?"
"No! "Elliot exclaimed, his heart racing. "I've never seen that guy before in my life."
"Right." She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Well, if it's true what he said, you've got a lot to figure out, Mr. Royalty."
Elliot stared at her, unsure of whether to laugh or cry. This was not how his Thursday was supposed to go.
The barista's expression softened. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but I know one thing: you're going to need more than black coffee to figure this out."
Elliot chuckled weakly, the weight of the stranger's words beginning to sink in. "You might be right."
The woman's lips quirked into a smile. "Don't worry. You'll figure it out. Everyone does. But for now, how about that latte?"
Elliot frowned. "Latte?"
She nodded, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You've never had one, have you?"
Elliot shook his head, still trying to process what had just happened. "I don't even know how to order one."
"Well," she said, taking a step toward the espresso machine, "it's time to learn."
And with that, Elliot Hargrove's life turned upside down. His perfectly average day had just become the start of something he could never have imagined: a journey into a world of secrets, responsibilities, and, possibly, the most unexpected romance he could have ever dreamed of.
Elliot couldn't shake the feeling that his life had taken a turn into the unknown. The café was unusually quiet that morning, save for the quiet hum of the espresso machine and the occasional murmur of customers. It was as if the universe had conspired to keep him in a strange, surreal bubble. The man's words, You're the heir to the Kingdom of Rivano, repeated over and over in his head, like a broken record.
But it wasn't just that. There was something about Sophia, the barista. Despite her sharp demeanor, there was something oddly comforting in the way she spoke, like she could see through all the confusion swirling in his mind. After all, she was the first person he'd encountered since the stranger who didn't look at him like he was crazy. She just... understood.
"So, let me get this straight," she said as she set a steaming cup of latte in front of him. She had a half-grin on her face, clearly amused by the chaos that had unfolded. "You're telling me you've never heard of Rivano?"
"Never," Elliot said, staring at the latte with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. "It sounds like something out of a fairytale."
Sophia leaned on the counter, her expression bemused. "And you're really the heir? To a kingdom?"
Elliot swallowed hard. "I... I don't know. I mean, how am I supposed to believe something like that?"
She shrugged. "Well, he seemed pretty convinced. You looked pretty convinced, too, to be honest."
He rubbed his forehead, trying to make sense of the bizarre conversation. "I didn't look convinced. I was confused."
"Confusion's a kind of belief, too," Sophia said with a playful grin. "You've got a latte now, though. That's a start."
Elliot took a hesitant sip. To his surprise, it was fantastic. He had no idea why he'd never tried one before. The warmth, the creaminess it was a small moment of comfort in the storm of his thoughts.
"So, what's your deal?"Sophia asked after a pause, wiping down the counter with a rag. "You seem like a regular guy, but clearly, you're... not? I mean, you're the heir to a kingdom that's a pretty big deal."
Elliot took another sip of his latte, unsure of how to respond. He still didn't know what to believe. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that kind of information. I'm just a guy who works in accounting. I'm not even good at math."
Sophia smirked. "Not good at math? That's cute. But you know, you're probably right. Who needs math when you've got a whole kingdom at your feet, right?"
Elliot shot her a quick look. "This isn't a joke, you know. This guy I don't even know his name said I have royal responsibilities. A kingdom that needs saving or something. And I"
"Stop," Sophia interrupted, holding up her hand. "I don't know who this guy is, but you've got a few more things to figure out than just math. If this is for real, I think you've got a bit of a crash course ahead of you. But here's the thing: If there's anything I've learned from the mess that is this world, it's that people like him, wealthy and powerful, don't always have your best interests at heart. So, maybe you should think twice about jumping into whatever this is."
Elliot stared at her, a little stunned by her bluntness. She had this air of confidence about her, as though she wasn't fazed by anything. "I'm not sure what you mean," he said slowly, still trying to figure her out. "But if he's telling the truth... I could have a responsibility to something bigger than myself. A kingdom, Sophia."
She raised an eyebrow. "Bigger than yourself? Elliot, you work a 9-to-5 job and can barely afford your rent. And you're supposed to suddenly rule a kingdom? I don't buy it. Not yet."
He was starting to feel a bit defensive. "It's not like I asked for this. But I need to know more. I have to figure this out."
Sophia sighed, leaning back against the counter. "I get it. But just be careful. The rich and the powerful, they like to pull people into their messes, you know? So don't get caught up in something you can't control. Not unless you're sure you want it."
Her words lingered in the air, and for the first time that day, Elliot felt something like clarity. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should tread carefully. But he wasn't sure if he could turn away now. There was too much at stake.
"Thanks for the advice," Elliot said quietly, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. "I'll think about it."
Sophia gave him a small nod, her face softening for the briefest of moments. "You should."
He stood up, feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time. The morning had already been overwhelming, and he still had so many questions. But one thing was certain: his life wasn't going to be the same anymore.
As he walked out of the café, Elliot felt the weight of the latte in his hand, the warm cup grounding him in reality. But in the back of his mind, the shadow of the Kingdom of Rivano loomed over him. Could he really take on something like that? And why him, of all people?
Just as he stepped outside, a text pinged on his phone.
Your royal status has been confirmed. Please come to the address below at your earliest convenience. The Kingdom of Rivano awaits you.
Elliot's heart skipped a beat. It was happening. The world he knew and the one he didn't—was colliding. And there was no turning back now.
Elliot stared at the text message on his phone, blinking as if expecting the words to disappear and leave him with a nice, ordinary day ahead of him. But it didn't happen. The text remained, taunting him with its absurdity.
Your royal status has been confirmed. Please come to the address below at your earliest convenience. The Kingdom of Rivano awaits you.
The words danced in front of him like a cruel joke, but as he looked around the bustling city streets, he felt a growing sense of unease. This wasn't a joke, and he knew it. Something was happening, something he couldn't ignore.
He glanced back at the café where Sophia had served him his first latte, her words echoing in his mind. Be careful, Elliot. The rich and the powerful, they don't always have your best interests at heart.
But she wasn't the one who had texted him. This message came from someone else someone who claimed he had royal blood. The question was, why would he, of all people, get involved in something like this?
His phone buzzed again, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was another message. This one was from an unknown number, but the tone was more urgent.
We know you're confused, but time is running out. You need to come. There's no turning back.
The weight of the words pressed on him. He felt his stomach tighten. Was this some kind of trap? Or was it really the start of something... bigger?
Without giving himself another chance to second-guess, Elliot took a deep breath and decided to follow the instructions. He didn't know why, but something inside him stirred a curiosity he couldn't shake. Maybe he was a fool; maybe he wasn't. But one thing was for certain: he was already tangled in this web, and the only way out was through.
The address led him to a grand, centuries-old building tucked away in a quieter part of the city. It looked like a mansion that had been frozen in time, with ivy creeping up the stone walls and a polished brass knocker gleaming on the large wooden door.
Elliot stood at the doorstep for a long moment, feeling like an imposter. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be anything to anyone. But here he was, standing in front of a place that promised answers or maybe more confusion.
With a deep breath, he knocked.
The door swung open almost immediately, revealing a tall woman with raven-black hair tied in a neat bun. Her sharp, calculating gaze swept over him before she stepped aside to let him in.
"Welcome, Mr. Hargrove," she said with a formal nod. "We've been expecting you."
Elliot blinked, taking a hesitant step inside. The interior was grand, with high ceilings, antique furniture, and soft, golden light filtering through the windows. It looked like the set of a historical drama. And then, there was the smell the subtle scent of old books and polished wood. It was overwhelming in a way he couldn't describe.
"Is this... the Kingdom of Rivano?"he asked, his voice sounding smaller than he intended.
The woman nodded, her expression unreadable. "In a manner of speaking. You've been brought here for a reason."
Elliot didn't know how to respond to that. His mind was still reeling from everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. The stranger. The text messages. The sudden realization that his life might not be as average as he'd always thought.
"I don't understand," he admitted. "What does all this mean? Why me?"
The woman didn't answer immediately. Instead, she gestured for him to follow her down a long hallway, lined with portraits of people in regal attire, each one staring down at him with a cold, stoic expression.
"You will understand soon enough," she said cryptically. "But first, there are some things you need to know."
They reached a large, imposing set of double doors, which the woman opened with a flourish. Beyond them was a large, opulent room, its centerpiece a grand table surrounded by people in dark suits and formal attire. At the head of the table was a man in his mid-forties, dressed in a tailored suit that looked like something out of a royal court, his hair neatly combed and his expression unreadable.
The woman gestured toward the man. "This is King Adrian of Rivano. Your uncle."
Elliot froze. The words echoed in his mind, as if trying to make sense of them. Your uncle.
"King? "Elliot repeated, his voice cracking. "I have an uncle who's a king. "
The man at the table nodded. "You do. And it's time for you to take your place in the family."
Elliot's stomach churned. Everything had happened so fast, and now he was being thrust into a world he knew nothing about. But what had caught his attention wasn't just the idea of being a king's nephew; it was the word family.
"What do you mean by that?" Elliot asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
King Adrian's eyes softened, just a fraction. "I know this is difficult for you to comprehend. You've lived your life as an ordinary man, and now you're suddenly faced with a reality that's anything but."
He stood up, his tall frame towering over Elliot. "But it's more than just a family reunion, my nephew. Rivano is in danger. The kingdom is facing threats that could dismantle everything we've worked for. And we need you to take your place in the line of succession."
The words sent a shiver down Elliot's spine. He felt a surge of panic. How could he possibly step into a role like this? He was just a guy who had barely figured out how to order a latte.
"I don't even know the first thing about ruling a kingdom," Elliot stammered. "I don't know anything about diplomacy, or power, or whatever it is you think I'm supposed to do."
"You're not alone in this," King Adrian said, his voice firm but reassuring. "But it's up to you to step forward. The people of Rivano need you. The kingdom needs you."
Elliot took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle on him. "What's the catch? "he asked, suddenly feeling wary. "There's always a catch with rich people."
The king's lips twitched upward, as though he was both amused and impressed by Elliot's bluntness. "The catch, Mr. Hargrove, is that you are the last of our bloodline. If you fail, everything we've built will fall."
Elliot stared at him, the enormity of the situation settling over him like a blanket. The responsibility. The pressure. The unknown.
And, for the first time in his life, Elliot Hargrove wondered if he was about to become someone he never expected.
Elliot couldn't believe what had just happened. One minute, he was drinking a perfectly normal latte at a café, and the next, he was standing in front of a king, his uncle, no less, who had just told him that he was the last hope for an entire kingdom. It was like a plot twist no one saw coming, except for, apparently, everyone except him.
King Adrian, his supposed uncle, stood there like a tall, regal figure, an actual king, for crying out loud. And there was Elliot, a guy who had been perfectly fine with a life of spreadsheets and debating pineapple on pizza. No kingdoms, no royal bloodlines, just coffee and the occasional Netflix binge. But now? Now he was supposed to rule.
"I can't do this," Elliot muttered, feeling his palms go clammy. "I can't even figure out how to make small talk at a party. How am I supposed to rule a kingdom?"
Sophia's voice echoed in his mind: Don't get caught up in something you can't control. It was advice he desperately wished he had taken before walking into this royal mess.
King Adrian leaned in, his brow furrowed. "You'll learn, Elliot. It's not all about politics. It's about making decisions that affect people's lives. People depend on you."
Elliot nodded. "Okay. Sure. I'll just what's step one? I mean, do I need to get, like, a fancy suit? Do I have to start using phrases like 'My good people' or 'As your king, I command you!? '?"
A long, awkward silence filled the room.
King Adrian blinked. "Well… yes, but only in very formal settings. You don't just walk into a café and start saying, 'As your king, I command coffee! 'That might not go over well."
Elliot chuckled nervously. "Right, that's good to know. I'll be sure to leave the 'commanding' to the actual royal events."
"Right," King Adrian said, clearly not impressed by Elliot's attempt at humor. "But in all seriousness, you have royal blood. We just need to help you refine your skills. Think of it as royal boot camp."
Elliot froze. "Boot camp? What kind of boot camp are we talking about here? Are there, like, obstacle courses? Do I need to crawl through mud? I'm pretty sure I'm allergic to that."
The king looked at him, unamused. "I mean... sort of. But more of a mental training boot camp. You'll learn royal etiquette, diplomacy, public speaking, and things like that. We'll start small."
Elliot's mind raced. "Diplomacy, huh? Does it involve eating a lot of finger foods and nodding wisely?"
"Not exactly," King Adrian said dryly. "But there will be plenty of that too."
"Great," Elliot said sarcastically. "So, it's basically like being at a fancy dinner party for the rest of my life. Got it."
The king sighed. "Let's get started."
The next day, Elliot found himself in a grand, pristine training hall clearly designed for royalty to practice every manner of high-society nonsense. He was given an outfit that made him look like he was auditioning for the role of "unqualified heir" in a costume drama. The suit was too tight, the shoes were too shiny, and the collar felt like it was cutting off circulation to his brain.
"I feel like I'm suffocating in here," Elliot grumbled, adjusting his collar for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Well, that's the first lesson," came the dry voice of his royal tutor, Lady Margaret, who seemed to be immune to Elliot's struggle. "Royal appearances matter. You must look the part if you wish to be taken seriously."
Elliot tried to stand up straight, but the pants felt like they were made of concrete. He was sure he looked ridiculous, but apparently, Lady Margaret disagreed. She walked over to him, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with the precision of someone who had been trained in royalty for decades.
"Excellent," she said, giving him an approving nod. "You look almost... like a king."
Elliot's eyes widened. "Almost?"
Lady Margaret gave him a look that could freeze lava. "You will get there, Mr. Hargrove. In time."
As she turned to walk away, Elliot let out a dramatic sigh, feeling like a fish out of water. How had he gone from his comfy little apartment to this? His head was spinning faster than he could keep up with.
"Well," Elliot muttered under his breath, "at least I'm not being forced into an obstacle course. Yet."
At that moment, a loud trunk interrupted his thoughts, followed by a clatter of footsteps. He turned just in time to see one of the royal attendants, a young man in his twenties, racing toward him with a tray of snacks. He was clearly in a hurry, but the tray of hors d'oeuvres seemed to have other plans.
In a spectacular display of clumsiness, the attendant tripped on the hem of his own robes and sent the entire tray of delicate pastries flying into the air. The little finger sandwiches and puffed pastries fell like confetti all over the floor.
Elliot blinked.
"Good one," he said with a wry grin, already feeling the tension melt away. "I knew I was supposed to learn how to deal with finger foods... but not like this."
The attendant, looking mortified, scrambled to pick everything up. "I'm so sorry, Your Highness," he stammered, his face flushed with embarrassment. "I"
"Oh, no," Elliot interrupted, holding up his hand. "No need for the 'Your Highness' stuff. I'm still working on that whole 'king' thing. Just… just grab the sandwiches. You're doing great."
Lady Margaret turned at the sound of Elliot's voice. "What's going on here? "She asked, her voice sharp.
"I think this is part of the 'royal boot camp,'" Elliot said, trying to suppress a chuckle. "How to navigate awkward moments when your snacks go flying."
Lady Margaret blinked. "That's... not part of the curriculum. But perhaps we should add it." She turned to the attendant. "Please clean this up."
As the attendant hurried to collect the fallen pastries, Elliot's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw another text.
Don't forget to come by the palace tonight for the official dinner. It's time to make your first appearance. Don't embarrass us.
Elliot groaned. "Great. Dinner party. More finger foods."
Lady Margaret shot him a pointed look. "You will not embarrass the kingdom. That's part of your training. Royal dinners are not the time for mistakes."
Elliot flashed her a mock salute. "Well, if I'm going to embarrass myself, I might as well do it in style."
And with that, Elliot Hargrove, self-proclaimed expert in awkward situations, braced himself for what would undoubtedly be the most ridiculous dinner of his life.
Elliot stared into the mirror, silently wondering if his reflection was some sort of cosmic prank. The tailored suit, the shiny shoes, the absurdly stiff collar it was like he'd been thrust into an alternate universe where everything was expensive, and nothing fit quite right.
"Okay, Elliot," he muttered to himself, trying to adjust his tie for the tenth time. "You're not just some guy anymore. You're... a prince? No. Wait. A nephew of a king. That's... that's totally different. And you definitely won't embarrass yourself tonight, right?"
He sighed and pulled the tie off, throwing it on the bed. Maybe he should just wear a t-shirt and call it a day. But then, he'd be the guy who wore a t-shirt to a royal dinner, which somehow seemed worse.
After what felt like an eternity of panic, a knock on the door interrupted his spiral. Elliot shot up, heart racing. Was it time? Did he miss the dinner?
"Uh, yeah, come in?" he called, mentally preparing himself for whatever new chaos awaited.
The door opened slowly, and in walked Lady Margaret. She looked exactly the way she always did: composed, poised, and terrifyingly regal. Her eyes swept over him like an eagle sizing up its prey.
"Mr. Hargrove," she began, eyeing him critically. "I must admit, this is... an improvement. At least you're not wearing a hoodie this time."
"Hey!"Elliot raised his hands defensively. "I was really comfortable in that hoodie."
Lady Margaret raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. "Comfort is not what's important here, Mr. Hargrove. Presentation is."
"Right," Elliot muttered. "Presentation. I'll just wear my 'royal disaster' badge with pride, then."
But then, for the first time, Lady Margaret cracked a smile. It was fleeting, but it was there, and Elliot swore it was the best thing that had happened all day.
"Don't make me regret teaching you anything, Mr. Hargrove," she said, her tone softer. "But we must go. The dinner is about to begin."
The palace was, in a word, extravagant. Everything gleamed. The chandeliers sparkled like something out of a fairy tale, and the walls were adorned with paintings that looked so ancient, Elliot wasn't entirely sure whether they were portraits or just really fancy wallpaper.
"Good grief," Elliot whispered to himself. "I feel like I'm walking through an Instagram influencer's dream wedding."
Lady Margaret shot him a side-eye. "It's best if you don't comment on every little thing. You are about to meet some of the most important people in the kingdom."
Elliot nodded solemnly, then whispered to himself, "Please don't let any of them ask me if I'm comfortable in my own skin, because I am definitely not."
As they entered the grand dining hall, Elliot's eyes widened. There were long, opulent tables laden with food that looked so fancy, it almost seemed like it wasn't meant to be eaten. It was all too perfect, too formal.
But then, in the middle of the room amid the chaos of polite conversation and laughter, Elliot's eyes found her. Sophia.
Sophia Ruiz, the barista from his favorite café, stood near a side table, looking completely out of place in her casual attire. She had an amused smirk on her face, as if she was simultaneously confused and intrigued by the world she'd been thrust into.
Wait. Sophia was here?
Elliot froze. What the heck? Why was she here? Of all the places, of all the situations, why now?
"Is that…" He leaned toward Lady Margaret. "Is that... Sophia?"
Lady Margaret glanced at him, unimpressed. "Yes, she's here for the catering. You know, a little something to make this charming event less insufferable."
"Of course," Elliot muttered under his breath. "Just the kind of weird coincidence I need."
Sophia caught his eye from across the room, and to his surprise, she winked. The kind of wink that was part sass, part 'I told you this was going to be a mess.' Elliot's heart skipped a beat, but he quickly recovered, trying to act like he belonged here. Which was impossible, because he definitely didn't.
"Time to face the music, Mr. Hargrove," Lady Margaret said, giving him a firm shove toward the head table. "You're about to meet people who matter. Try not to spill anything on your suit."
The dinner began with a clinking of glasses, a round of formal introductions, and a few painfully awkward moments where Elliot had no idea what was going on. The conversations were mostly about the weather (which Elliot wasn't sure even mattered in a kingdom) and "royal matters," which he couldn't even begin to understand.
But through it all, his eyes kept wandering back to Sophia. She was standing by the serving table, effortlessly charming everyone who came near her, making even the most stuck-up guests laugh.
Her laughter, light and unguarded, caught Elliot's attention, and before he knew it, he was smiling. She was completely at ease in a world that made him feel like a fish out of water.
And then, in the middle of the dinner, everything went delightfully sideways.
A waiter, a very flustered-looking waiter, came rushing toward the head table, tripping over his own feet, and before anyone could stop him, he collided with the dessert cart. In a spectacularly graceful disaster, an entire tower of macarons and miniature cakes flew through the air like sweet, colorful confetti. The crowd gasped, and Elliot's eyes widened as he watched a particularly well-placed macaron head straight for the king.
The room fell into silence.
And then, out of nowhere, Sophia's voice rang out, loud and clear.
"Incoming! Duck and cover!"
Before anyone could react, she expertly leaped into the fray, catching the flying macaron with a flick of her wrist and, somehow, balancing it perfectly on the plate she was holding. The room went quiet for a heartbeat, and then laughter. Big, booming, contagious laughter.
Elliot couldn't help himself. He was laughing so hard he almost snorted. It wasn't just the sheer absurdity of the moment; it was Sophia's fearless grace. She was fabulous. And he was completely smitten.
"Nice catch," Elliot said, grinning as she made her way over to him, still balancing the plate of desserts like a circus performer.
Sophia gave him a playful look. "What can I say? I'm a professional."
He wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "You are definitely the most impressive person in this room."
Sophia raised an eyebrow. "Even more impressive than a guy who's supposed to be royal but can't even handle a dinner party?"
Elliot smirked. "Yeah. I think I might have to admit, I've met my match."
She laughed, and in that moment, Elliot felt something shift inside him. This wasn't just a dinner party. This wasn't just some royal training. This was real. He wasn't pretending to be someone else. And maybe, just maybe, Sophia wasn't the only one who needed to let go of expectations.
As she leaned in, her voice low, she whispered, "So, are you going to stand around looking awkward, or are you going to ask me to dance?"
Elliot froze for a second, the words sinking in.
"Dance? "he repeated. "Do I look like I know how to dance?"
Sophia just smiled. "I guess we'll find out."