The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the royal audience chamber.
Tapestries depicting generations of Valoria's monarchs hung from the walls, yet even they seemed subdued beneath the weight of the silence that hung over the room.
Prince Reginald stood in the center of that hall, tall, built, still, and cold as winter itself.
The silver embroidery of his dark coat shimmered faintly in the light, but his expression was carved from stone.
He was known across the realm as the Ice Prince, beautiful, disciplined, and utterly without warmth.
Before him sat King Aldric and Queen Seraphine, his parents, upon their thrones.
Even they, rulers of Valoria, did not speak to their son without caution.
"You are twenty-four, Reginald," Seraphine began.
"Your coronation is set for the spring. By the law of our ancestors, you must be wedded before the crown can be placed upon your head."
"I am aware," Reginald said evenly.
"Then you understand what must be done," Seraphine pressed.
"Lady Gina of Edevane is prepared to be your bride. Her father's power secures the loyalty of half the council. It is a match worthy of a king."
"Worthy of the council, perhaps," Reginald replied, his gaze steady. "Not of me."
Her brows arched, her voice sharpened. "You speak as though you have a choice."
"I do," he said.
"You must stop this obstinacy," she pressed, rising from her seat. "Lady Gina is the ideal choice. Her father is the Archduke, his influence could solidify your rule. She is educated, beautiful, well spoken..."
"And utterly vain," Reginald interjected, his eyes lifting to hers, cold and steady.
The Queen blinked, affronted. "Vain?"
"She speaks to her own reflection more than she speaks to me," he said flatly.
"If I am to share a crown with someone, I'd prefer she at least be capable of conversation."
"Reginald!" Seraphine's voice rang across the chamber like a whip.
King Aldric exhaled, leaning forward on his throne.
"Son," he began, his voice low and measured, "you must understand the position you put us in. The ministers grow impatient. Letters arrive every day, they demand to know who will stand beside you when you are crowned. They whisper doubts about your readiness, your sense of duty."
Reginald's eyes flickered toward him.
"Then perhaps you should tell them," he said quietly, "that I will not marry to appease a council of cowards."
"You will not insult the very men who secure your throne."The Queen hissed.
"Let them be insulted," he said. "They crave influence, not loyalty. Marrying Gina would not strengthen Valoria, it would chain it to a family that already pulls too many strings."
The Queen's face flushed crimson.
"You speak as though you have any other option! You have turned down every lady of standing we've presented, every princess, every count's daughter, every noblewoman of grace and education. What will you do, then? Marry a milkmaid?"
Reginald's lips curved faintly, though there was no warmth in it.
"If she possesses more sense and humility than the noblewomen of this court, perhaps."
The Queen recoiled, color rising in her face. "You shame your birthright with such words."
"My birthright," he said softly, "is a prison of expectations and deceit. You built the bars, Your Majesty, do not scold me for wishing to breathe."
For a moment, no one moved.
Aldric's sigh echoed faintly through the hall.
"Reginald… you cannot continue like this. Isolation may guard your heart, but it will destroy your reign before it begins. The people adore you but they do not know you. They call you cold because you give them nothing else to call you."
Reginald's voice stayed level. "Warmth has never protected anyone. Least of all in this palace."
A shadow passed over Aldric's face, a memory neither of them dared speak aloud.
"You cannot rule without a queen," he said finally. "The crown demands it."
"Then perhaps the crown demands too much."
"Enough," Seraphine snapped. "You are not some poet to be ruled by fancy. You are a prince. You will marry Gina, and that is final."
"Final?" His tone hardened. "Nothing is final until I say it is."
The Queen drew a sharp breath, her hand tightening around the folds of her gown.
Even the guards at the edge of the room stood more rigidly, uncertain whether to breathe.
King Aldric raised a hand, his tone firm but tired. "Enough, Seraphine. Yelling will not move him. You know it never has."
"Because you've always indulged him!" she burst out, turning to her husband. "Ever since..."
"Enough," Aldric said again, his voice carrying an authority that silenced her instantly. "We will not speak of the past in anger."
The Queen turned away, trembling with fury. "The past is what made him this way."
Reginald's jaw tightened, his gaze turning distant. "If by 'this way', you mean unwilling to be manipulated," he said, "then perhaps the past served its purpose."
Silence fell. Sharp. Uncomfortable.
The King rubbed a hand over his face, weariness shadowing his eyes.
"Reginald, I will not pretend to understand everything you carry, but this..." He gestured vaguely toward the court, the throne, the walls heavy with portraits. "...this is your destiny."
"aloria needs a king. Your people need a ruler who gives them stability. If you refuse to marry, a bride will be chosen for you, as custom requires."
Reginald met his father's eyes. "Then perhaps Valoria needs someone else."
"Reginald," Aldric said, his tone breaking slightly. "Do not speak like that. You are the heir. You are the future of this realm."
"A future dictated by whom?" Reginald countered.
"By a council of old men and an alliance arranged to flatter the Archduke's pride? Forgive me, Father, but if the crown must come at the cost of my will, I would sooner remain a prince forever."
"Reginald...." The Queen whined, shocked by his declaration.
The King leaned back, watching his son for a long, tense moment.
Then, with a sigh, he nodded once, a decision forming in his eyes.
"Very well," he said. "You refuse Lady Gina, and I will not force you to wed her. But hear me now, Reginald: you have five months. Five months to find a woman, any woman who will stand beside you when the crown is placed on your head. If you cannot, then you will not be crowned king."
The Queen turned sharply to him. "Aldric, you cannot be serious!"
"I am," he said firmly. "Let the boy make his choice. If he refuses, then he chooses his fate."
Reginald regarded his father in silence, the tension between them stretching thin.
Finally, he inclined his head in acknowledgment. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
"Do not take this lightly," the King warned. "Five months pass quickly."
"I assure you," Reginald said, turning toward the great doors, "I have never taken anything lightly."
As he strode from the chamber, the echoes of his boots against marble lingered long after he disappeared from sight.
Seraphine sank into her throne. "We've lost him," she said bitterly to Aldric. "He listens to no one, fears no one. Even we tread lightly before him."
The King's gaze lingered on the empty doorway. "He is not lost," he murmured. "Only buried beneath what we made him."
Seraphine turned sharply toward him, her voice breaking. "You pity him still?"
"I pity the boy who learned too early that love could wound deeper than war," Aldric said quietly. "The man you see now, cold, distant, that is the armor he built to survive."
The Queen said nothing.
Outside, in the marble corridors of Valoria's palace, Prince Reginald walked alone.
Servants pressed themselves against the walls as he passed, their eyes downcast, their whispers swallowed by silence.
He had five months.
Five months to find a wife.
Five months before his fate and perhaps his heart was sealed forever.