Crowned Chaos and Kingdom Quandaries

Elliot had thought he'd seen the peak of absurdity when he was thrust into royal life. But as he stood in the training hall, drenched in sweat and wielding a sword like it was an unruly garden rake, he realized he'd only scratched the surface.

"Keep your arms steady, Mr. Hargrove! Bellowed Sir Edmond, the overly serious combat instructor with the build of a refrigerator.

"I'm trying! "Elliot panted, struggling to balance the sword that felt more like a lead pipe than a weapon. "But this thing weighs more than my first car!"

The other instructors looked unimpressed, their faces a mix of pity and exasperation. Across the hall, Lady Margaret observed with her usual stern expression, arms crossed as if she were watching a particularly disappointing theater performance.

"Your Majesty," she called out, her voice cutting through the clang of swords and Elliot's groans, "perhaps less complaining and more effort?"

"Effort's not the problem," Elliot muttered under his breath. "It's gravity."

Despite the chaos, he managed to block a half-hearted strike from Sir Edmond, only to lose his footing and land flat on his back with a loud thud. The hall erupted in laughter—well, except for Lady Margaret, who sighed deeply, and Sir Edmond, who looked like he was considering early retirement.

Elliot stared at the ceiling, his lungs burning from the exertion. "Is it too late to abdicate?"

Before anyone could answer, the heavy doors at the end of the hall creaked open. Elliot turned his head to see Sophia stepping in, her entrance as casual as ever. She was carrying a brown paper bag and a to-go cup, looking hilariously out of place in her jeans and sneakers against the backdrop of medieval chaos.

"Well, well," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Looks like someone's living the dream."

Elliot scrambled to his feet, brushing dust off his training uniform. "Sophia! What are you doing here?"

She held up the paper bag. "I figured you'd need reinforcements. Brought coffee and croissants."

"You're a saint," Elliot said, accepting the cup gratefully.

Sir Edmond cleared his throat, clearly unimpressed by the interruption. "His Majesty is in the middle of an important session."

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "Looks more like he's in the middle of a wrestling match with his own sword."

Elliot snorted, nearly choking on his coffee. "You're not wrong."

Margaret stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. "Miss Ruiz, while your gesture is appreciated, His Majesty's schedule is already packed. Perhaps your visit could wait until after training?"

Sophia didn't flinch under Margaret's steely gaze. "Relax, Margaret. I'm just here to make sure he doesn't keel over before lunch."

Elliot grinned, feeling a surge of gratitude for her presence. She had a knack for cutting through the tension, even in a palace full of people who took themselves far too seriously.

But the moment of levity was short-lived. A messenger hurried into the hall, carrying a sealed envelope. He approached Margaret and handed it to her with a deep bow.

"What now?"Elliot asked, noticing the way Margaret's expression darkened as she read the letter.

"There's been a change in today's itinerary," she said, folding the letter neatly. "A delegation from the Kingdom of Valdoria is arriving this afternoon. They wish to discuss an alliance."

Elliot frowned. "An alliance? What kind of alliance?"

Margaret hesitated for a moment before answering. "A marital one."

The words hung in the air like a thundercloud. Sophia's relaxed posture stiffened, and Elliot's coffee nearly slipped from his hands.

"Marriage?"he repeated, his voice rising an octave. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm afraid not," Margaret said. "It's a common practice among royal families to strengthen political ties."

Elliot stared at her, his mind racing. He'd barely gotten used to the idea of being a king, and now they wanted him to marry a stranger for the sake of politics?

"That's insane!"he said, pacing the hall. "I mean, isn't this the kind of thing they stopped doing in the Middle Ages?"

Sophia crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. "So, what? He's supposed to just go along with it because it's 'tradition'?"

Margaret's gaze shifted to Sophia, her tone cool. "This is not a decision made lightly, Miss Ruiz. It is about the stability and prosperity of the kingdom."

Elliot ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Stability and prosperity? I don't even know how to hold a sword properly! How am I supposed to handle a marriage alliance?"

Margaret's expression softened, if only slightly. "You won't be expected to make a decision immediately. The delegation will present their proposal, and you will have time to consider it."

Sophia's eyes narrowed. "Consider it, huh? Sounds like a fancy way of saying, 'Do as you're told.'"

Elliot glanced at her, grateful for her support. But the look in her eyes, sharp and defensive, made him wonder if there was something more behind her words.

Margaret straightened her posture, signaling that the conversation was over. "The delegation will arrive in three hours. I suggest you prepare yourself, Your Majesty."

She turned on her heel and left the hall, followed by the instructors and the messenger. Elliot was left standing there, coffee in hand, with Sophia by his side.

"Great," he muttered. "Just great."

Sophia sighed, leaning against the wall. "You okay?"

Elliot let out a bitter laugh. "Define 'okay.'"

She studied him for a moment, then handed him one of the croissants. "Here. Eat. You'll need the energy to deal with whatever nonsense they throw at you next."

Elliot took a bite, the buttery pastry doing little to calm his nerves. "Thanks. For this and, you know, not laughing me out of the room."

Sophia smiled faintly. "Someone's gotta have your back."

Her words were simple, but they carried a weight that Elliot couldn't ignore.

Three hours later, Elliot found himself in the grand reception hall, dressed in formal attire that felt more like a suit of armor. The delegation from Valdoria arrived with all the pomp and circumstance he'd come to expect from royal affairs: ornate carriages, flowing robes, and a small army of attendants.

The leader of the delegation was Duke Aldric, a tall man with a sharp beard and an even sharper gaze. Beside him stood Lady Rosalind, his daughter, who was clearly the intended bride.

Elliot tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice her striking appearance. Rosalind was the picture of nobility, with flawless features and an air of confidence that put everyone else in the room to shame.

"Your Majesty," Duke Aldric said, bowing deeply. "It is an honor to meet you."

Elliot forced a smile, doing his best to remember the etiquette Margaret had drilled into him. "The honor is mine, Duke Aldric. Welcome to our kingdom."

The formalities continued, with Rosalind curtsying gracefully and offering polite words about the beauty of the palace. But throughout the exchange, Elliot felt like he was on autopilot, his mind racing with thoughts of what this proposal meant for his future.

As the meeting progressed, Sophia watched from the sidelines, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. She wasn't supposed to be in the room; Margaret had made that clear, but she'd managed to slip in anyway, determined to keep an eye on things.

When the topic of marriage finally came up, Elliot couldn't hold back any longer.

"With all due respect," he said, his voice steady but firm, "this is a lot to process. I didn't even know about this proposal until a few hours ago."

Duke Aldric nodded, his tone diplomatic. "Of course, Your Majesty. We understand that this is a significant decision. But we believe that an alliance between our kingdoms would be mutually beneficial."

Elliot glanced at Rosalind, who remained silent but poised, her expression unreadable.

"I appreciate your offer," he said carefully. "But I need time to think about this. It's not a decision I can make lightly."

The duke inclined his head. "Take all the time you need, Your Majesty. We are here to answer any questions you may have."

The meeting ended soon after, but the tension lingered long after the delegation had been escorted to their guest quarters.

Sophia found Elliot in the gardens, sitting on a stone bench with his head in his hands.

"Hey," she said softly, sitting down beside him.

"Hey," he replied, not looking up.

They sat in silence for a while, the evening breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers.

"Do you think I'm crazy for not jumping at the chance to marry a literal princess?"Elliot asked eventually.

Sophia chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "I think you're human. And I think it's ridiculous to expect you to make a decision like that overnight."

Elliot finally looked at her, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "What would you do if you were me?"

Sophia hesitated, her gaze distant. "Honestly? I'd probably run. But you're not me, Elliot. You're... you. And somehow, you always find a way to deal with whatever life throws at you."

Her words were meant to be reassuring, but Elliot couldn't shake the feeling that there was something unsaid between them, something that neither of them was ready to confront.

For now, though, he was grateful for her presence.