The council chamber had long since emptied.
But the tension it held…
Still lingered.
Like a storm that refused to pass.
Kingston stood alone on the palace balcony, his hands gripping the cold marble railing, his thoughts anything but calm.
A "public selection."
A "trial."
A spectacle designed to judge Roseline.
His jaw tightened.
They weren't even trying to hide it anymore.
This wasn't about tradition.
It was a challenge.
A trap.
And he had walked straight into it.
"Your thoughts are loud tonight."
The familiar voice pulled him from the storm in his head.
Kingston didn't turn immediately.
"…Father."
The King stepped beside him, his presence steady, grounding. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply stood there, looking out over the vast kingdom stretching beneath them.
Then—
"You're angry," the King said.
"Shouldn't I be?" Kingston replied, his voice tight. "They're turning her into a test. Something to be evaluated like she's not even—"
"Human?" the King finished calmly.
Kingston exhaled sharply.
"…Yes."
Silence settled again.
But it wasn't uncomfortable.
Not this time.
"Do you think you're the first to stand where you are now?" the King asked.
That made Kingston pause.
He finally turned.
"What do you mean?"
The King's lips curved slightly—not into a smile, but something softer. Something… reminiscent.
"I mean," he said, "you are walking a path I know very well."
Kingston frowned. That seems true.
And then—
A second voice joined them.
"You're just doing it with far less patience."
The Queen Mother stepped onto the balcony, elegance in every movement, her gaze warm as it settled on her son.
"Mother," Kingston said, straightening slightly.
She waved it off lightly. "Don't start acting formal now. Not after that performance in the council chamber."
Despite everything—
A faint, reluctant smile touched his lips.
"…I meant every word."
"We know," she said gently.
And that—
That caught him off guard.
Kingston looked between them.
"You… knew and.....?" he asked quietly.
The King chuckled softly. "We know doesn't mean you dont need a push some times."
The Queen Mother added, "You're not as unreadable as you think you are."
Kingston ran a hand through his hair, exhaling.
"…Then why didn't you say anything?"
The Queen Mother's expression softened.
"Because," she said, "some things… you have to choose for yourself."
A pause.
Then the King stepped forward slightly, his voice lowering—not in secrecy, but in depth.
"There's something you should understand, Kingston."
And just like that—
The air shifted.
Not tense.
Not heavy.
But meaningful.
"When I was your age," the King began, "the court had already chosen my future as you have known before."
Kingston stilled.
"They selected a bride from a powerful noble house," he continued. "Perfect lineage. Perfect alliances. Perfect… on paper."
The Queen Mother's lips curved faintly. "And completely wrong."
Kingston's eyes flickered between them.
"…You didn't agree!." kingston stated
The King huffed lightly. "Not even a little."
"And then," the Queen Mother said, stepping closer to stand beside him, "he met me."
Their hands brushed.
Then intertwined.
Effortlessly.
Like it had always been that way.
Kingston noticed.
Of course he did.
"…The court didn't approve," he said.
The King let out a quiet laugh. "That's an understatement."
"They opposed it fiercely," the Queen Mother added. "They questioned my background. My worth. My ability to stand beside him." Her gaze darkened slightly at the memory. "They said I would weaken the throne."
Kingston's expression hardened.
"That sounds familiar."
"It should," the King said. "Because history has a way of repeating itself… when people refuse to learn from it."
Kingston leaned back against the railing, absorbing every word.
"So what did you do?" he asked.
The King didn't hesitate.
"I chose her."
Simple.
Clear.
Unshakable.
"I defied the court," he continued. "For the first time in our royal history, a king-to-be rejected a council-approved marriage."
Kingston's eyes widened slightly.
That—
That was no small thing.
"The backlash was… severe," the Queen Mother said quietly. "Alliances were threatened. Support was withdrawn. There were whispers of replacing him as heir."
Kingston's fists clenched.
"They went that far?"
"They did," the King confirmed. "Because power fears what it cannot control."
Silence fell again.
Heavier this time.
But not hopeless.
"Did you ever regret it?" Kingston asked.
The question was quiet.
Honest.
Real.
The King turned to look at the Queen Mother.
And for a moment—
Everything else disappeared.
"No," he said.
Not even a second of hesitation.
"Not once."
The Queen Mother smiled softly.
"And in the end," she added, "we didn't just survive it."
"We changed it," the King finished.
Kingston let out a slow breath.
Something in his chest shifted.
Settled.
"So this…" he gestured slightly, "this 'trial' they're pushing—"
"—is nothing new," the Queen Mother said.
"It's the same game," the King added. "Different players."
Kingston looked down for a moment.
Thinking.
Then—
"They're going to target her," he said. "Not openly. But they will."
"Yes," the Queen Mother replied.
"And you're letting it happen?"
That question lingered.
But there was no accusation in it.
Only concern.
Understanding.
The Queen Mother stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
"We are not abandoning her," she said. "We are giving her the chance to stand."
Kingston frowned slightly.
"She shouldn't have to prove herself to them."
"No," the King agreed. "But if she stands… and wins on her own terms?"
A pause.
"Then no one will ever be able to question her again."
That—
That hit differently.
Kingston's gaze sharpened.
"And if they try to break her?" he asked quietly.
The Queen Mother's expression turned cold.
"Then they will answer to me."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
And suddenly—
Kingston understood.
This wasn't weakness.
This wasn't surrender.
This was strategy.
Careful.
Precise.
Dangerous.
A slow breath left him.
"…She's strong," he said, almost to himself.
The Queen Mother smiled softly. "We know."
The King added, "But strength doesn't mean she won't need you."
Kingston's grip on the railing loosened.
Then steadied again.
"I won't let them touch her," he said.
"Good," the King replied.
"But remember—" the Queen Mother added gently, "this is her fight too."
Kingston nodded slowly.
"I know."
And this time—
He meant it.
Far across the palace…
Roseline stood in her chambers, staring at her reflection.
The same face.
The same girl.
And yet—
Everything felt different.
Her fingers lightly touched the edge of her dress.
"A public selection…" she whispered.
The words felt heavy on her tongue.
Intimidating.
Dangerous.
But beneath that—
Something else stirred.
A quiet, growing resolve.
She lifted her chin slightly.
Her reflection didn't look as uncertain anymore.
If this was the path before her…
Then she wouldn't run.
Not this time.
Because somewhere deep in her heart—
She remembered his words.
"Then I'll handle it with you."
A soft breath escaped her lips.
"Alright," she murmured.
Her eyes sharpened.
"Let them watch."
And in another part of the palace…
Lady Seraphine stood by a dimly lit window, her expression unreadable.
A servant approached cautiously.
"Everything is prepared, my lady."
Seraphine's lips curved slowly.
"Good."
Her gaze drifted toward the distant royal wing.
Toward where Roseline stayed.
"Let's see," she murmured softly, almost to herself…
"How long she lasts."
The game had begun.
And this time—
Love alone wouldn't be enough.
It would have to fight.
@OlukoyaZainab