The press conference felt like a fever dream, a blur of flashing lights and shouted questions. Alexander and I stood side-by-side, our smiles as fake as the jewels adorning our costumes. We spun a tale of love at first sight, a connection that transcended politics. The crowd ate it up, their eyes shining with romantic fervor. But as we walked away, the weight of our lie settled on my shoulders, heavy and suffocating. This was just the beginning.
The engagement party loomed, another performance in our never-ending play. Invitations, ornate and pretentious, were sent out, summoning royalty from across the land. Tomorrow, the gilded cage would be on full display.
The grand hall of Veridian Castle was transformed. Garlands of flowers draped from the vaulted ceilings, their sweet scent cloying. Crystal chandeliers glittered, casting a warm glow on the assembled guests.
Music, soft and elegant, filled the air. It was all so…perfect. Perfectly fake.
I stood at the top of the grand staircase, a statue carved from emerald and ice. My jacket, a masterpiece of Veridian craftsmanship, shimmered with threads of silver, depicting scenes from our history. Beneath, a crisp white shirt and dark trousers completed the ensemble. I was every inch the prince, regal and composed. But inside, I was screaming.
Across the room, Alexander was a blaze of Avalonian blue. His coat, richly embroidered with gold, emphasized his broad shoulders. Dark breeches and boots completed the look, giving him a swashbuckling air. He laughed, his voice booming through the hall, surrounded by admirers. He played his part well, the charming, affable prince. But I saw the same weariness in his eyes, the same forced smile.
The first guests arrived, a kaleidoscope of colors and titles. Veridian nobles bowed and curtsied, offering their congratulations. I responded with polite nods and empty phrases. My mind was a whirlwind of resentment and frustration.
A fanfare announced the arrival of Alexander's parents, King Theron and Queen Lyra of Avaloria. They were a formidable pair. King Theron, tall and imposing, with silver hair and a stern gaze, shook my hand. "Prince Lucien," he boomed, his voice echoing through the hall. "We are honored to be here to celebrate this auspicious union."
Queen Lyra, beautiful and gracious, embraced me. "My dear boy," she said, her voice soft yet commanding. "We are so happy for you and Alexander."
"Your Majesties," I replied, offering the appropriate courtesies. Their smiles were as much for the cameras as they were for us.
Alexander's parents congratulated and celebrated us as if they weren't the orchestrators of this whole facade, after all they were the one's who presented my parents with the ultimatum.
This alliance was a political masterstroke, solidifying borders and trade routes and helping to alleviate the economic hardship in my kingdom. Love was merely a prop in this grand production.
Then I saw her. Elara. My sister, who had been away at boarding school in Eldoria, had come. She looked beautiful in a simple gown of pale gold, her smile genuine and warm.
"Lucien!" she cried, rushing towards me. She threw her arms around me, her embrace a lifeline in this sea of pretense. "I'm so glad to be here!"
I hugged her back, a real smile finally gracing my lips. Elara was the only one who truly knew me, who saw beyond the prince.
"I missed you," I said, my voice rough.
"I missed you too," she replied. "And I'm happy for you…" Her voice trailed off, her smile faltering slightly.
"Don't," I whispered. "Don't pretend, Elara."
She squeezed my hand. "I know," she said softly.
The paparazzi arrived, a swarm of flashing lights and clicking cameras. They herded us together, demanding poses. Alexander and I stood shoulder to shoulder, our smiles strained, our bodies tense. We were puppets, dancing to their tune.
As the hall filled with guests, I found myself drawn to Elara. We retreated to a quiet corner, away from the judging eyes.
"How are you, Lucien?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern.
"Miserable," I admitted. "This whole thing is a farce."
"I know," Elara said. "But you have to do this, Lucien. For Veridian."
"I know," I repeated, my voice heavy. "But it's so hard. To pretend… to pretend I love him."
Elara sighed. "I wish it were different," she said.
Across the room, I saw Alexander. He was surrounded by Avalonian nobles, laughing and joking. He looked the picture of happiness. But I knew better. I knew he was just as trapped as I was.
The evening wore on, a slow torture of forced smiles and empty conversations. Alexander and I avoided each other, yet our eyes constantly met across the room, a silent battleground.
Finally, the moment arrived. King Theron stepped onto the dais, a hush falling over the hall.
"My lords, ladies," he began, his voice booming. "We are gathered here tonight to celebrate the engagement of my son, Prince Alexander, to Prince Lucien of Veridian. This union will strengthen the bonds between our kingdoms, ensuring peace and prosperity for generations to come."
He raised his glass. "To Alexander and Lucien! May their future be filled with happiness and success!"
The crowd roared its approval.
Then, my father, King Christopher, stepped forward. His voice, though less booming than Theron's, held equal authority. "Tonight," he said, "we not only celebrate a union of hearts, but a union of nations. This alliance between Veridian and Avaloria will bring stability and growth to our lands. We welcome Prince Alexander into our family, and we look forward to a future of shared prosperity."
He raised his glass. "To Lucien and Alexander! May their reign be long and prosperous!"
Alexander and I stood side-by-side, our faces carefully blank. We raised our glasses, our hands brushing for a fleeting moment. A jolt of something – anger, resentment, something – passed between us. Then, we drank.
As the party ended, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. The performance was over, for now. I could retreat to my chambers, shed the mask of the prince, and just be…me.
I glanced at Alexander one last time. Our eyes met, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. We were both prisoners, bound by duty and obligation. But we were in this together, whether we liked it or not.
As I turned to leave, I knew this was just the beginning. The engagement was a lie, a carefully constructed illusion. The wedding, already in the works, would be another performance. And after that, a lifetime of pretending. A lifetime of living a lie. But for our kingdoms, for our families, we would play our roles to perfection. We would be the princes they expected us to be. Even if it meant sacrificing our own happiness.