Underneath the Crown

The evening was quiet, an unusual calm in the midst of the storm that had been Elliot's life since the moment he'd been crowned. The palace grounds, bathed in the soft golden hue of sunset, were peaceful, and the bustling sounds of the delegation's departure echoed through the vast corridors. Inside the palace, however, Elliot's thoughts were anything but calm.

He stood at the window of his chambers, gazing out at the horizon where the last rays of the sun kissed the distant mountains. The world outside seemed so far away from the weight he carried in his chest. The crown, once a symbol of destiny, now felt more like a shackle.

"Your Majesty."

Elliot turned at the sound of Margaret's voice, her presence filling the room like a looming shadow. She stood at the doorway, impeccably poised as always. "The delegation has left, as has the council. The matters of the day are settled, for now."

Elliot gave a tight nod but didn't speak. He wasn't sure what to say anymore.

"Is there anything I can do to assist you, Your Majesty?"Margaret asked, her tone professional yet tinged with an almost imperceptible hint of concern.

He wanted to tell her he didn't need anything. That he could handle it. But the truth was, he wasn't sure he could. He had no answers.

"No," he finally said, his voice hoarse. "Thank you, Margaret. That will be all."

She inclined her head, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than usual before she left him alone. The door clicked shut behind her, and Elliot was left in the silence of his own thoughts.

It was in these moments, alone, when the pressure seemed unbearable. The weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, the expectations, the endless decisions. And then, of course, there was the matter of marriage. The proposal from Valdoria had shaken him more than he'd admitted to anyone. He hadn't even had the chance to properly think through the decision before it had been thrust upon him.

What did it even mean to marry for politics? To become a pawn in some grand royal game?

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and Elliot's gaze shifted to the door. A soft knock followed.

"Elliot?"

Sophia's voice was familiar and warm, cutting through the cold isolation of the palace. Her tone, as always, was direct yet gentle, making him feel like he was finally hearing something real in a world full of artifice.

He walked over and opened the door to find her standing in the hallway, dressed casually in a simple sweater and jeans, the same effortless look she always wore. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she carried with her that grounded presence that always seemed to calm him.

"Hi," she said softly, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what he was feeling.

"Hey," he replied, offering a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Sophia didn't hesitate, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation. She closed the door behind her and then turned to face him, crossing her arms with a look of concern.

"I heard about the proposal," she said, her voice cautious but warm.

Elliot leaned back against the window frame, unsure of how to begin. "I didn't even know it was coming. One moment, I'm trying to figure out how to rule a kingdom, and the next… I'm supposed to marry some stranger from another kingdom to secure an alliance."

Sophia's gaze softened. "You don't have to do it, you know."

He turned to look at her, his heart fluttering in his chest. He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear those words until now. "But it's expected. It's… it's what's supposed to happen. I can't just refuse."

Sophia stepped closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. "You can. It's your life, Elliot. You don't owe anyone a marriage for political reasons. This isn't the medieval era anymore."

He chuckled bitterly. "Tell that to my council."

Sophia smiled, but it was a bittersweet expression. She took another step closer, standing just a few feet away from him. The space between them felt charged with something unspoken, something both fragile and intense.

"You're not like them," she said softly. "You don't belong in a box that they've set up for you. You're… you're your own person. You're Elliot Hargrove, not some puppet king they can control."

Elliot felt a strange lump rise in his throat at her words. He was so used to being told what to do, to being shaped by everyone around him. But hearing her say that he couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him like he was his own person, like he mattered.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound in the room was the faint rustling of the wind outside and the quiet hum of the palace, far removed from their little bubble of silence.

"I don't know what to do, Sophia," Elliot admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "I don't know how to be a king. How to be the man they want me to be. And I don't know how to balance all of this with… with what I want."

Her eyes softened, and without another word, she reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. The touch was simple, but it sent a jolt of warmth through his chest. She didn't say anything more. She didn't have to. Her presence alone was a comfort, grounding him in a way that no royal advisor or council ever could.

"I don't have the answers for you," she said quietly, "but I know one thing whatever decision you make, it should be yours. Not theirs."

For a long moment, they stood there, the weight of the world pressing down on them. It wasn't the pressure of royal duties or the looming marriage proposal that held Elliot's heart in place—it was the quiet connection between them, something unspoken but felt in every glance, every breath.

Elliot swallowed hard, the emotions that had been building inside him threatening to spill over. He had never been good at expressing what he felt. But with Sophia, something about her made it easier. Made it feel like the truth could be laid bare without fear of judgment.

"I don't want to marry her," he said suddenly, his voice barely a whisper. The admission hung in the air like a confession.

Sophia's breath hitched, and her hand tightened slightly on his arm, as though she were afraid he might disappear if she let go. "Then don't," she said, her voice fierce. "You're not trapped, Elliot. You're more than this palace, more than what they think you should be. You deserve to choose."

His gaze met hers, and for the first time since he'd worn the crown, Elliot felt a strange sense of clarity. It was like a fog had been lifted. He wasn't alone in this.

Without thinking, he stepped closer, his hand reaching for hers. The moment his fingers brushed against hers, a spark ignited, both electric and tender. It was a moment of connection that went beyond words—something that neither of them had expected, but both of them desperately needed.

Sophia's eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed unsure of how to respond. But when she looked at him again, her expression softened, her gaze warm and inviting.

"You don't have to carry this burden alone," she said, her voice a whisper. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You have a choice, Elliot. And I'll stand by whatever decision you make."

Elliot's heart raced in his chest, and the world outside the palace seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, standing in the quiet space between them, filled with a tenderness that neither of them had expected but both had needed.

For the first time in weeks, Elliot felt something stir within him something hopeful. Something real.

He took a deep breath, the weight in his chest a little lighter than before. "Thank you, Sophia. For… everything."

She gave him a soft smile, her fingers tightening around his hand. "Anytime, Your Majesty."

But the way she said it, with the lightness in her voice and the warmth in her touch, felt like so much more than just a title. It felt like something more. Something that, maybe just maybe was the beginning of something beautiful.

And as the night stretched on, Elliot allowed himself to believe in the possibility of that something.