4 Rage and Engagement

As soon as Allyria finished tidying herself, she went straight to the Great Hall to meet the King and Queen.

She ironed her skirt with her hands before she opened the door.

The Great Hall was wide, adorned with different shapes and patterns of gold. Beautifully decorated, well-lit and the largest indoor space most people would ever witness, the Great Hall was the perfect means for a noble to display both their power and generosity to its constituents and visitors.

In the heart of the vestibule, Queen Elysande and King Averardus sat in the throne clothed in brilliant dressing embroidered with lavish jewels and a golden crown on their heads. On top of that, two knight sculptures situated on both sides carrying the Vervalian country's escutcheons with a symbol of a crimson-colored wolf on the center.

"My dear," the Queen said as she approached her, her smile emanating through the voluminous Great Hall.

Allyria straightened her posture.

Queen Elysande looked ethereal as she walked towards her daughter, the gown flowing effortlessly like waterfalls on her body. She didn't look like a woman in her mid-forties, though her wrinkles were already visible as a sign of fading youth, she still looked radiant and striking. Her beauty is timeless as ever albeit her age.

"What do I need to know?" she asked and took a glance at her father who was also marching in their direction.

Her father placed his hands in his pockets and showed slight smile, "Your mother and I have something to discuss with you. This is very important, hija."

"What is it, father?" she asked.

All of a sudden, the expression in their faces faded, giving her nothing but a stern look. Allyria knew something was off and she knew better than to think it was anything good. Her heart rattled within her ribcage. Something about their expressions made her anxious.

Her father cleared his throat before speaking. "The King of Cesparia will be presenting his son for your betrothal," he said.

Allyria's eyes widened. Was she hearing that right?

"Father, you must be joking," she gave a bitter laugh.

They must have noticed the hysteric in her face when her father and mother looked at her with sorry eyes.

"I'm sorry, dear. We only did this because it is what's best for you," her mother said.

'Best for me? More like what is best for the kingdom. I'm not a fool.'

Her mother and father knew how much she despised the thought of marriage. She wasn't prepared for it. Also, as a monarch, she believed she had the right to choose whom she should marry.

This wasn't the first time her mother and father talked about the same matter. Whenever they had the opportunity to do so during gatherings, they would try to convince her but she would just end up walking away, avoiding hearing any of their useless reasons.

She knew they were already preparing her for this ever since she was a kid. That this was all she was born to do – to be sold to a kingdom to 'fortify ties'.

But she was still optimistic of the possibility that someday, their minds might change and they wouldn't need her to be given off like some prized possession anymore.

'How funny to think it was possible. I was so wrong.'

Her mother clasped her hands in hers and looked at her directly in the eyes, "This is what you've been preparing for dear. You need to continue the legacy of our dynasty and once you turn 20, you will marry King Maximilian's son."

She laughed mockingly, trying to find the right thing to say. She failed, "This is preposterous. You can't do this."

"But you need—"

"No!"

Her mother huffed with disappointment and placed her palm over her temple, "A princess does not raise her voice," she sighed before proceeding, "You will be married to the prince of Cesparia and it is final."

It is final.

That sentence reverberated in her mind for seconds, processing.

It is final.

'They can't do this to me.'

Allyria met her mother's eyes, swallowing down her frustration, "You can't just force me into a something that doesn't even guarantee a happy marriage."

"Royal marriages don't always start well, Allyria, you of all people should know that," her mother reprimanded.

"That's because people left them with no choice!" she turned towards her father and set his palms in hers, "Father, please."

If there was someone she could convince, it was her father. She was aware she could never talk some sense into her mother. Besides, the only reason her mother talked to her compassionately was because she had to request for something beyond her will.

The King took her daughter's delicate hands, "Hija, we love you."

There it is.

"But you need to do this, not only for us but for our people."

Her flickering hope disappeared.

She took her hand back, infuriated, "I won't let you do this to me!"

"Allyria," her mother attempted to touch her arm but before she does, she took a step back. She didn't know what to feel. She was enraged at the same time wretched at how they could sell their daughter to a person she didn't know, and even worse, love.

The sadness in her expression stung her but she shoved those thoughts aside. If there's a time to feel sorry, this isn't one.

"I need some air," she said. She needed time to think.

Before her mother and father could utter another word, she stormed out of the Great Hall.

"Allyria!" her mother called from behind, raising a warning tone.

'I won't let her talk me out of this. Never.'

"Allyria Estella Aleshkovsky, get back here right now!"

She continued to stomp towards the outside without hesitation and hammered the door close.