Lagging Behind

Daniella's pov 

As I grow weary of the ceaseless revelry below, the allure of solitude beckons me back to the sanctuary of my chambers. Concealing a bottle of wine within the folds of my gown, I embark on a leisurely stroll through the silent corridors of the castle, relishing the absence of raucous music and clamorous voices.

Stepping onto a wet balcony, I am enveloped by the tranquil embrace of the rainy night, the pristine beauty of December's chill a balm to my restless soul. It's a time for quiet reflection, for solitary contemplation amidst the serenity of the falling snow.

Yet, my solitude is shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps, jolting me from my reverie. Instinctively, I conjure a flickering flame, poised to defend myself against any potential threat. But as the figure emerges from the shadows, I recognize him immediately—Prince Malo, the brother of the man currently betrothed to my sister. The resemblance between them is uncanny, from their sun-kissed complexion to their thick, brunette locks.

"Relax, princess," he urges, his voice a soothing cadence in the stillness of the night. Slowly, I lower my hand, allowing the flames to dissipate as a tentative truce is established between us.

"You're aware this area is off-limits," I remind him, leaning against the balcony and producing the bottle of wine from my pocket.

He quirks an eyebrow at the sizable bottle, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "That's quite the indulgence," he remarks, his tone laced with curiosity as I take a sip of the crimson elixir.

"It's a necessity," I retort, offering him the bottle in a silent invitation to partake. "Your loss," I add with a wry grin, taking another sip as the night unfolds around us in a symphony of quietude.

As we stand in the quiet solitude of the balcony, a palpable tension hangs in the air, punctuated only by the soft sound of our breaths mingling with the wintry breeze. Despite his youthful charm and undeniable allure, Prince Malo appears hesitant, his words caught in the tangled web of uncertainty.

"What troubles you, Your Highness?" I venture, breaking the silence with gentle concern.

He inhales deeply, summoning the courage to voice his inner turmoil. "We both find ourselves on the fringes of our families," he begins, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

"No," I interject, correcting him gently. "Families, plural. I may be an outcast, but I'm not so desperate as to marry a man who bears an uncanny resemblance to my sister's fiancé."

He looks momentarily taken aback by my candor, but I press on, unyielding in my resolve. "I have no interest in a marriage of convenience," I declare, punctuating my words with another sip of wine.

He seems defeated, his shoulders slumping as he leans against the balcony rail, his gaze fixed on the ground below. "You're no outcast," I reassure him, offering a comforting touch to his shoulder. "But marrying me would only compound your troubles."

Though I harbor no illusions about the constraints of marriage, there are myriad reasons why I remain unattached. "Marriage isn't everything," I concede, acknowledging the weight of societal expectations that have conspired to limit my options.

"Easier said than done," he murmurs, his voice tinged with frustration. "My twin brother is on the brink of engagement, while I languish without prospects."

"Marrying for duty's sake isn't the answer," I reply, meeting his gaze with unwavering conviction. "I dream of exploring the world beyond these walls, of experiencing all that life has to offer."

"And marriage would only serve to confine you," he observes astutely.

"If I could marry a pirate, I would," I quip with a playful smile. "Just to see the world."

"Why not go now?" he suggests, his tone tinged with earnestness.

"Madame Motan, my advisor, would never allow it," I reply with a wry chuckle, surrendering the bottle of wine to his grasp. His intervention is a welcome one; in my moments of uncertainty, I often turn to indulgence as a means of avoidance.

"And what of your father?" he inquires, concern etched into his features.

"My father is more concerned with my marriage prospects than my happiness," I admit with a bitter laugh. "At twenty-eight, I've long surpassed my prime."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his gaze softening with sympathy.

"It's fine," I assure him, straightening my dress with a sense of finality. "I should retire for the evening. But I wish you luck in next year's marriage market."

As Prince Malo's words reach me, a gentle plea to linger a while longer, I find myself unable to resist the pull of his soft brown gaze. Reluctantly, I acquiesce, abandoning my fleeting attempt at escape and returning to the balcony rail.

"Princess Daniella," he begins, a hint of playfulness in his tone, "care to stay a little while longer? Perhaps until the fireworks grace the sky, heralding the arrival of the new year."

I chuckle at his persistence, unable to deny the warmth that blossoms within me at his company. "Haven't you seen enough fireworks in your life?" I jest, though my resolve begins to waver at the sincerity in his eyes.

"Perhaps watching them with you will bring me luck for next year," he quips, his grin infectious as he takes a sip from the bottle of wine.

"Maybe I will finally escape and see the world," I muse, my gaze drifting upward to the dark canvas of the night sky. "I had forgotten that the new year is upon us."

"Time seems to fly when you're lagging behind," he remarks, his words striking a chord within me.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," I offer, a note of sympathy in my voice. "Next year, you will find a wife. You're a prince—anyone would be fortunate to have you."

"Second in line isn't exactly thrilling," he admits, his lips touching the rim of the wine bottle.

"If only you knew," I reply with a rueful smile, the bitterness of unfulfilled expectations lingering on my tongue. "If circumstances were different, I would be queen by now. But alas, I am not even in contention for the crown."

"That's a sobering thought," he concedes, his smile unwavering. "Your situation certainly puts things into perspective for any royal."

As we share a moment of camaraderie, our laughter mingling with the distant rumble of anticipation, I find myself drawn to the sincerity in Prince Malo's words. His well wishes for my future strike a chord within me, a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that shrouds my path.

"May you find a husband who meets your requirements," he offers, his gaze unwavering as he meets my eyes. "And may you sail the world together, practicing your magic which is truly remarkable."

His praise catches me off guard, a rare acknowledgment of my talents that stirs a warmth within me. Gazing down at my palms, I am reminded of the years spent honing my craft in solitude, my abilities a source of both solace and empowerment.

"Thank you," I reply, my voice tinged with genuine gratitude. "The same to you."

As the first glimmers of fireworks burst forth in the night sky, illuminating the darkness with their dazzling display, we both turn our gaze heavenward. In that moment, beneath the canopy of stars and swirling colors, I feel a sense of kinship with Prince Malo—a shared understanding of the burdens we carry and the dreams we hold dear.

Together, we stand in silent reverence, our spirits uplifted by the beauty of the spectacle unfolding above us. And as the final embers fade into the night, I can't help but feel a renewed sense of hope for the journey that lies ahead—for both of us.

Turning to face him, I offer a gentle smile. "Thank you for sharing this moment with me," I express, the sincerity of my gratitude evident in my words.

His response is a nod of understanding, his eyes reflecting a sense of camaraderie. "It was my pleasure, Princess Daniella," he acknowledges, his tone warm with genuine appreciation.

As the night envelops us once more, I find solace in the company of this unexpected companion, grateful for the brief respite from the demands of royal duty. And as we part ways, each returning to our respective chambers, I carry with me the memory of this fleeting moment of connection—a beacon of light amidst the shadows of uncertainty.