Minho sat in his father's study, trying to ignore his mother's still stare as he fiddled with the silver band on his fourth finger. He could almost guess the topic of that sudden meeting. You. What else would his parents speak to him about on the evening of your arrival at the palace?
"Waladi, in a few hours, the carriages will arrive from Tallimallek," the king spoke to his son, voice rough from doings of age yet gaze warm with fatherly pride. "How are the preparations?"
"All's ready, abi."
"Good. Good." The king reclined on his velveted chair, exhaling in satisfaction. In a little more than a month, his first son would sit on the throne of Darimalek and establish a family of his own. The memory of carefully holding him in his arms was still fresh in his head. His son has grown a little too quickly for the King's aging brain to process. "Well, you are dismissed to finish preparations. "
But as the exchange between the two males finished, the queen only watched. Unlike her husband, she had doubts surrounding her son's marriage, for she was no fool to ignore your forced smiles and stiff attitude.
Watching her son leave, she decided she mustn't stay silent. "I understand the amira isn't the fondest of you."
Minho's steps halted in place. Yes, he too knew that you disliked him. For what reason, he could take many guesses. You've always seemed to resent your betrothed.
"But a king with no wife is vulnerable, and a clearly faulty marriage will make the two of you targets for the advisors. You must make this arrangement succeed. Tallimalek has been gracious enough to agree on this union, we cannot afford to lose their trust."
His mother's message was clear. If you can't be a good couple, act like one. Minho could only let out a silent exhale before exiting the suffocating study. "Of course, ummi."
Of course. He'd find a way to fulfill the Queen's wishes. Because no matter how much you pushed him away, this was bound to happen from the moment you greeted the cruel world, before you even knew of each other's existence in the vast cosmos.
The Crown Prince of Darimalek was to marry the Second Princess of Tallimalek, as your parents agreed three decades ago.
The challenge was to get you to cooperate with him, in the least, since there was no hope for you to miraculously fall in love with him. Minho thought it was unfair, however, because he was, and the way his heart soared at the sight of you entering the palace only hurt him.
"Tallimalekans are so haughty. Y/n is no exception," Jeongin tutted beside Minho, who discreetly elbowed him, whispering through a smile, "Shut up."
The younger male glared before turning his attention to the grand entry of the Second Princess of Tallimalek, the most powerful kingdom in the alliance. You, with a stoic expression and an uninterested gaze.
In the back of Minho's head, a voice repeated his doubts like a mantra. Looking at the size of your escort, your overly embellished gown, and the heavy, bejeweled tiara resting on your head, he could feel his own royal status fall back.
It was well acknowledged that Darimalek was one of the smaller, weaker kingdoms. Wealthy, but not as the rest, and certainly not as your kingdom. Minho thought you believed that his family was only seeking your wealth, and perhaps that was the reason behind your persistence on disliking him. He wished he could assure you otherwise, but when a smaller kingdom proposes such a union with a greater kingdom, intentions are as clear as the summer's sky and as undeniable as its blue color.
There was little Minho could do besides wearing a smile for his parents and hoping a miracle would strike his twisted life.
When you stepped towards him, offering your hand, your lips twitched upwards. An attempt at a smile; something to please the advisors standing nearby. He held your hand, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it. "Ahlan amirati." Welcome, my princess.
"Shukran. I hope you're well." Dry. Dull. Dead. That was your tone. It was as if the words had been forced out of your mouth, and you hated the way they tasted.
The prince tried to ignore the stabbing pain in his heart. "I am well now that you're here."
You only nodded, moving on to greet his parents and leaving him with the wish to cry. He was twenty-three years of age, yet a single action of yours made him want to hide in the shadows and never step into the light again. Did you feel no sympathy to treat him like that?
"God," Jeongin sighed, shaking his head at the Crown Prince's dejected expression. "One would think you're a teenager hopelessly in love and not the soon-to-be king."
"You don't know anything," Minho's features darkened, insulted, to which the former shrugged, "I do know that you'll have to tell her about your feelings soon. Unless you're enjoying... whatever that is. It's hard to watch the two of you interact."
This time, the prince's shoulders fell. He knew that, too. "I know."
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