Chapter 21: Ultimatum

Emma is escorted into the grand throne room, her heart racing as the massive doors close behind her with a resounding echo. The chamber is imposing, with its high ceilings, towering windows, and the Queen seated regally on a golden throne. Emma's steps falter as she approaches, her mind clouded with confusion and unease.

The Queen's gaze is sharp, almost piercing, as she speaks with a chilling calm:

"Do you know why you are here, Emma?"

Emma hesitates, her voice barely above a whisper:

"Your Majesty... why did you stop my wedding?"

The Queen rises, her eyes narrowing.

"Because you cannot marry Harrison. Not when the fate of England depends on you."

Emma stiffens, a cold dread washing over her.

"What are you talking about? What does this have to do with me?"

The Queen steps closer, her words cutting through the air like a blade:

"You truly think I don't know who you are, do you? Adesuwa. Princess of the Benin Empire."

Emma freezes, her breath catching in her throat.

"What... how.... how do you know that name?"

The Queen's lips curl into a knowing smile.

"Did you really believe your identity was a secret from me? I have always known. Your parents, your uncles, your entire royal lineage—they were eliminated by my command when England struck Benin over a decade ago. All but you."

Emma's voice shakes as she takes a step back.

"You... you killed them? My family?"

The Queen's gaze hardens.

"Yes. Your parents were a threat to the crown. England bows to no one, Emma. The Benin Empire was rising in power, and we acted to crush them before they could rival us."

Tears well in Emma's eyes, but anger begins to burn beneath the surface.

"And yet you let me live? Why?"

The Queen's voice is colder now.

"Because I foresaw this day. The Benin Empire has risen again, stronger than ever. Stronger than the British empire. Their Great Wall of Benin has made their lands impenetrable, their forces unmatched. They are responsible for the assassination of King George, and now they threaten to take all of England under their control. But they cannot do it without you."

Emma's voice rises, trembling with disbelief.

"Why would they need me?"

The Queen smirks, her tone matter-of-fact.

"Because it is taboo in Benin for anyone without royal blood to sit on the throne. You are the only rightful heir, Emma. And you will marry Prince Adrian to secure an alliance. Together, you will unite the kingdoms under my influence and ensure England's survival."

Emma shakes her head violently, tears streaming down her face.

"You cannot be serious. If you think I will trade my heart for you politics, you have underestimated me. And for what? To marry a man I do not even love?"

"A queen must sacrifice her heart for her empire and you will learn to do the same."

The Queen steps closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that feels more threatening than a shout.

"You will do it because you have no choice. The Benin Empire will not stop until they claim England as their own. And if you refuse, they will turn against you as well. Do you think your people would let you live if they believed you were a traitor to their cause?"

Emma's chest tightens as the full weight of the Queen's words settles over her. She feels a wave of betrayal as the Queen delivers the final blow.

"Do you think Eleanor and Alfred adopted you out of love? No, Emma. That, too, was my doing. I placed you in their care as a failsafe. Everything, from the moment you were taken from Benin, has been orchestrated by me. Your entire life has been a lie, carefully constructed to serve the crown."

The Queen gestures to a servant, who brings forward a small, intricately carved box. Inside is a royal heirloom—a golden pendant adorned with the insignia of the Benin royal family.

"This belonged to your mother. It was taken during the war, a reminder of the life you were meant to have."

Emma stares at the pendant, her hands trembling. The weight of her lineage, the betrayal of those she trusted, and the impossibility of her situation crush her.

"You've stolen everything from me," she whispers, her voice breaking.

The Queen's tone softens, but only slightly.

"I did what was necessary for the good of England. Now it is your turn to do the same. You will marry Prince Adrian and secure peace between our kingdoms. That is your duty, Adesuwa."

Emma falls to her knees, her tears flowing freely. Her heart feels like it's shattering into a thousand pieces as the enormity of her fate overwhelms her.

Emma stood frozen in the center of the throne room, her breathing shallow. The Queen's words echoed in her mind, each syllable striking her like a hammer against glass, shattering everything she thought she knew.

"You knew," Emma whispered, her voice trembling. "You knew who I was all along, and you let me believe I was just... someone who was saved out of kindness?"

The Queen's expression softened briefly, but the steel in her eyes never faltered. "Kindness has no place in politics, child. Your existence was a contingency—one I hoped never to use. But here we are."

Emma's knees threatened to give way, but she steadied herself, defiance flickering in her eyes. "And Eleanor and Alfred? Did they know?"

The Queen hesitated, the barest crack in her composure. "They played their part, yes. They were told it was for the good of the empire, to protect you."

Emma's heart clenched. The betrayal was a knife twisting deeper. Eleanor, the woman she called mother. Alfred, the man who had taken her under his wing. They had all lied.

"And now you expect me to marry Prince Adrian? To sell my soul for your throne?" Emma spat, tears streaming down her face. "Do you even hear yourself? You've destroyed my family, my future... my heart."

The Queen stepped closer, lowering her voice to a dangerous whisper. "Your heart is a small price to pay for the survival of nations. Benin has assassinated King George, they have fortified their lands with the Great Wall, and now they threaten to take all of England under their control. We bow to no one. You are the key, Emma. Marry Adrian, and you will not only secure peace but ensure your rightful place on the Benin throne."

Emma recoiled. "My rightful place? You think this justifies your crimes? You slaughtered my family, left me orphaned, manipulated me for years—"

"I spared you," the Queen cut in sharply, her tone ice-cold. "Because I feared this day might come. And now, here it is. You are the last of the royal bloodline. Without you, England has no leverage. Without you, war is inevitable. Do you wish to see blood spilled because of your selfishness?"

Emma's hands clenched into fists. "Selfishness? Is it selfish to want to choose my own fate? To marry the man I love?"

The Queen's gaze hardened. "Love is a luxury. Duty is a burden we must all bear. Remember, Emma—without me, you would have been nothing. You owe me your loyalty."

Emma's voice broke as she whispered, "I owe you nothing."

The Queen straightened, her expression unreadable. "Think carefully, child. Reject this alliance, and you will be condemning not just yourself, but your people. If you refuse, there will be consequences."

Emma's breath hitched. "Consequences?"

The Queen leaned in, her voice like venom. "Do you think Benin will welcome you with open arms if you do not secure this alliance? They may see you as a traitor to your own blood. And England—" she paused, letting the weight of her words sink in—"England will cast you aside. You will have no home, no future, and no allies. The choice is yours, but know this: the world will not mourn a foolish girl who chose love over legacy."

Emma is escorted into a chamber in the palace, her mind a whirlwind of despair and anger. She collapses onto the bed, clutching the royal heirloom the Queen had given her—a cruel reminder of her stolen heritage.

As the night deepens, Emma begins to piece together the enormity of the situation. Her love for Harrison feels like a distant dream, overshadowed by the weight of her royal blood and the expectations thrust upon her.

At the Ashbourne estate, the heavy silence of the night was broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in Harrison's study. But for him, time seemed to have frozen. He paced the length of the room, his fingers tangled in his hair, his mind consumed by a storm of emotions.

"She's been taken," he muttered to himself for the hundredth time, his voice raw with disbelief. "Right from the altar... how could they do this? How could she let this happen?"

He slammed his fist against the wooden desk, the sharp sound echoing in the room. Beatrice, standing near the doorway, flinched but remained silent. She had never seen her brother like this—unraveled, teetering on the edge of madness.

"Harrison," she said softly, but he didn't hear her. He was lost in his thoughts, replaying the moment the soldiers stormed into the chapel, their uniforms a grim contrast to the soft glow of the wedding candles.

He turned abruptly, his eyes wild. "She didn't even have a chance to say goodbye, Bea. They took her... like a prisoner."

Beatrice stepped closer, her heart aching for him. "We'll find out why. We'll get her back."

Harrison shook his head, his fists clenched at his sides. "Do you understand what this means? The Queen—she's planning something. She wouldn't have done this unless Emma was part of some... scheme. And now, she's in that palace, alone, with no one to protect her."

Beatrice hesitated before speaking, her voice cautious. "Harrison, I overheard something earlier. The staff were whispering... they said the Queen is forcing her into a marriage. An alliance with a kingdom called Benin."

Harrison froze, the words striking him like a physical blow. He turned slowly, his face pale. "A marriage?"

Beatrice nodded, her own voice trembling. "They said Emma's bloodline... that she's connected to Benin's royal family. The Queen needs her to secure peace between the two kingdoms."

Harrison staggered back, gripping the edge of the desk for support. "No. No, that can't be true. Emma is no royalty, they are mistaken. She's just an ordinary girl and besides Emma would never agree to this. She loves me. She chose me."

Beatrice placed a gentle hand on his arm, her eyes pleading. "Harrison, we don't know what they're forcing her to do. But you have to stay strong—for her. If anyone can fight for Emma, it's you."

Harrison's eyes burned with unshed tears as he whispered, "How can I fight when I don't even know in what condition she is? What they're telling her? What they're doing to her? Bea, I feel like I'm losing my mind."

Beatrice squeezed his arm. "Then hold on to what you do know: Emma loves you. And if there's even the slightest chance she needs your help, you can't give up on her now."

Harrison straightened, his jaw tightening with determination. "I won't. I can't. I will find her, Bea. No matter what it takes, I'll bring her back."

Meanwhile, Emma sat in the dimly lit room the Queen had provided for her. The royal heirloom sat on the table before her, its golden surface catching the flickering light of the single candle. She stared at it, her thoughts spiraling.

Her heart ached for Harrison, for the life they had planned, now torn apart by forces beyond their control. Her tears fell freely, but she refused to sob, refusing to give the Queen the satisfaction of hearing her pain.

"This isn't fair," she thought bitterly. "Why should I have to bear the sins of nations? Why should my heart be the price for peace?"

Her mind wandered to the chapel, to the way Harrison had looked at her—like she was his entire world. She had felt the same. And now, that world was crumbling.

"I have to find a way out of this," she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse. "I can't let them decide my fate. Not the Queen, not anyone."

But as she sat there, staring at the heirloom, the weight of her lineage pressed down on her. The responsibility of an entire empire rested on her shoulders, and the future of two nations hung in the balance.

She closed her eyes, a single thought burning in her mind. "How do I choose between love and duty?"