The Actual Reason.

[ WILLOWDALE VILLAGE ]

In a lavish room adorned with ancient architectural masterpieces, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment. Lady Marjorie, the first and only daughter of Lord Augustus, sat gracefully on a velvet chair, her beauty radiating magnificence. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and her dark beautiful eyes focused intently on her painting. Her skin was radiant, her nose sharp and pointy, and her lips full - a true definition of beauty, exuding confidence. Her eyes followed the movement of her hand as she mixed colors and gently brushed the large paper.

A knock shattered her tranquility, causing her to sigh. "Come in," She ordered. Her personal maid, Navia, stepped in, and before she could speak, Marjorie asked, "How is my art?" Navia shifted her gaze to the artwork, her smile faltering as she struggled to comprehend the abstract piece - a circle with dots and a curvy line, resembling a stick figure. Marjorie's eyes sparkled with pride. "It's my father." Navia's smile dropped, and she gave Marjorie a knowing look, recognizing the "stick man" as Lord Augustus.

Marjorie's passion for art was evident, but her skill was lacking. "I should give it to my father as soon as he returns," She said, her face lighting up with excitement. Navia's response was hesitant.

"Yes, it is beautiful, my lady." Marjorie nodded, satisfied. "Actually, my lady, your father has returned," Navia announced, her voice laced with caution. Marjorie's face turned serious, her eyes narrowing. 

"Wow, that was fast," She muttered.

As Marjorie prepared to present her artwork, Navia intervened, "No, my lady, Lord Augustus has returned sweaty and dirty. I fear it may ruin the drawing." Marjorie's face lit up with a large smile as she carefully secured the artwork. As she left the room, heads turned, and admiration filled the gazes of maids and guards. The guards opened the imposing doors, and Marjorie's gaze met her father's. A frown settled on her face as she sensed the tension in the room.

"Father," She called, and Lord Augustus raised his tired eyes to hers. 

"My dear," He mumbled, kissing her forehead wearily.

"How was your journey?" She asked, her voice laced with concern. 

"Can't you tell?" He questioned, and Marjorie's jaw clenched, sensing the gravity of the situation.

"Oh, no! What do we do, father? This isn't working at all" Marjorie spoke, her voice filled with concern and worry.

Her father just sighed, not wanting to say what was going on in his mind. But since he had no choice, he just had to let it out. "Since the allies plan isn't working. I guess we have no choice but to go for the other plan. You are getting married to Prince Lucian" He let it out, and Marjorie's jaw instantly dropped.

"Father, please, can't we drop this?" Marjorie asked, her face clouding over. "Why must we keep discussing this?" She couldn't just understand why her father was so insistent on her marrying the prince of Azov Kingdom, a man she barely knew and had heard terrible rumors about. The prince was notorious for his cruelty, showing no remorse for the people he had killed, punished, or hurt.

"Marjorie," Lord Augustus said calmly, his eyes fixed on her.

"Why would you want me to marry him?" She pressed on, not giving her father a chance to speak. "From what I've heard, he's not a good man for any woman to marry, let alone your own daughter." Marjorie's frown deepened, her skepticism evident.

"Those are just rumors, Marjorie, and I believe they are," Lord Augustus said calmly, his voice soft and persuasive. "He may not be who everyone thinks or believes he is." He paused, studying his daughter's resolute face. "Marrying the prince is our best option, Marjorie. It will grant us many opportunities and allies."

Marjorie shook her head vehemently, her frown deepening. "No, father, it still doesn't make sense to me! I want to marry a man I love, not someone I barely know. Rumors or not, I can't marry him."

Lord Augustus's voice took on a hint of frustration. "You're being too stubborn, Marjorie! And besides, you're not getting any younger." He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Marjorie's eyes widened, her voice cracking. "I can't believe you, father. You could have just told me I was old and shouldn't be living with you anymore, rather than bringing up the prince and allies. I can't believe you!"

She unfolded her arms and quickly headed back to her room, her steps short and fast. Lord Augustus tried calling after her, but she didn't turn back.

Carl, his advisor, intervened. "I think you're being too hard on her, my lord. Forcing this marriage will only make things worse."

Lord Augustus sighed, his frustration and fatigue evident. "I know, Carl. But what choice do I have?"

[ AZOV KINGDOM ]

Amidst the rolling hills and verdant forests, the Azov Kingdom stood as a testament to ancient grandeur, its legacy whispered in the winds. Weathered stone walls, adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and forgotten runes, encircled the capital city. Golden spires and turrets, their glinting tips shrouded in a whisper of mystique, seemed to touch the sky. The castle's labyrinthine halls, lined with faded tapestries and cobweb-shrouded portraits, whispered secrets of yore. Dusty parchments, yellowed with age, filled the shelves of the great library, holding the kingdom's history, and ancient wisdom within their yellowed folds.

In the grand throne room, the air was heavy with the scent of old leather, forgotten knowledge, and the weight of a thousand midnights. The throne itself, carved from a single slab of Blackstone, seemed to absorb the light around it, its surface etched with the symbols of Azov's ancient magic. The walls, adorned with the banners of noble houses, seemed to whisper tales of victory and betrayal, their threads woven with the very fabric of the kingdom's destiny.

The Azov Kingdom, one of the largest and most formidable realms in history, is ruled by a powerful and ruthless king who lies bedridden. The kingdom's military prowess has yielded countless victories, expanding its dominion through the conquest of numerous kingdoms and empires. The king's multiple marriages have produced a multitude of sons, whose true parentage is shrouded in mystery. Among these Princes is Lucian, the crowned Prince and heir apparent to the Azov Kingdom.

As the king's condition worsens, the Princes begin to plot and scheme, with each seeking to claim the throne for themselves, which is causing so much tension in the castle.

"Your Highness," Nicholas said, approaching Prince Lucian on the vast training field behind the castle. As the Prince's closest and most trusted guard, Nicholas had been by his side since childhood. Though an elderly man now, his loyalty and counsel were invaluable to Lucian.

The prince, dressed in his training attire, sat astride his horse, sword in hand, his movements graceful and precise as he galloped across the field. His chiseled features seemed chiseled from marble, his piercing eyes shining bright with a captivating intensity. His alluring scent spread through the air, a sweet and beguiling aroma that lingered. Though his smile was radiant, it belied the darkness of his heart.

As Nicholas addressed him, Lucian reined in his horse and turned to face the guard, his sweat-glistened face a testament to his intense training. "Your Highness," Nicholas repeated, bowing his head in respect.

Prince Lucian raised an eyebrow, his gaze piercing. "Nicholas, what brings you here? I'm in the middle of training, can't you see?"

Nicholas approached the Prince, his eyes cast downward. "Forgive the interruption, Your Highness" Nicholas bowed again. 

After he had explained what brought him, Lucian's expression turned from curiosity to shock. "Marjorie? I don't even know who that is."

Nicholas's expression was sympathetic. "Your aunt, the Queen Dowager, arranged the marriage, Your Highness. She believes it would be a strategic alliance."

Lucian's eyes widened in disbelief. "Without my consent? That's absurd! I won't be bound to some stranger."

Nicholas hesitated, choosing his words carefully so he doesn't fall victim to Lucian's prey. "The Queen Dowager believes it's in the best interest of the kingdom, Your Highness. And...Marjorie is said to be a beautiful and kind-hearted person."

Lucian snorted, his skepticism evident. "Beautiful and kind-hearted? That's not enough to make me marry someone I've never met!" 

Lucian's frustration grew, his mind racing with objections. "This is ridiculous! I'm the prince, not some kid to be told what to do. I won't be forced into a marriage I don't want."

Nicholas's expression remained neutral, though his eyes showed understanding. "Your Highness, the Queen Dowager believes...."

"I don't care what she believes!" Lucian's voice rose, his anger boiling over. "I demand to see her. Now!"

Nicholas bowed, his face pale. "As you wish, Your Highness. I'll summon her immediately."

As Nicholas hurried off to fetch the Queen Dowager, Lucian's thoughts seethed with rebellion. He wouldn't be trapped in a loveless marriage, no matter the cost.

"On a second thought, I can't wait to get married" He suddenly said to himself as a sinister smile crept on his lips.

How strange?!

[ MARJORIE'S ROOM * WILLODALE VILLAGE ]

Marjorie stood by the window, gazing out at the lush gardens below, her slender fingers drumming against the sill. The soft breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and she breathed it in deeply, trying to calm her troubled mind. Her pet parrot, Goldie, perched on her shoulder, nuzzled her ear with its beak.

"Hey there, Goldie," Marjorie said, a faint smile on her lips. "Where have you been all day?"

Goldie squawked in response, flapping its wings. Marjorie laughed and gently stroked its feathers, the soft gold plumage glistening in the fading light.

As she stood there, her thoughts drifted back to her argument with her father. Her smile faltered, and she sighed heavily. "I wish you could understand me, Goldie. Father is being so unfair. He wants me to marry Prince Lucian, but I don't want to..."

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Marjorie's eyes narrowed, suspecting it was her father. "I want to be alone, Father. I don't feel like talking to you or anyone else," she called out, her voice firm but weary.

"Marjorie, please let me in. There's something important you need to know," Lord Augustus replied, his voice soft and persuasive.

Marjorie hesitated, her hand on the doorknob. She didn't want to face her father's lectures or demands, but a part of her was curious. What could he possibly say that would change her mind?

With a sigh, she opened the door, and Lord Augustus entered, his eyes fixed on her face. They sat down in the chairs by the window, the fading light casting a warm glow over them.

Lord Augustus cleared his throat, his expression serious. "Marjorie, my dear, I know you're upset about the marriage arrangement, but there's something you don't know. Something that could change everything."

Marjorie raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued despite herself. "What is it, Father?" She asked with much eagerness.

Her father sighed out, "I want you to marry the Prince because I want to get my throne back" He let it all out faster than he planned to.

Marjorie's eyes widened, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your throne?".....