PRINCE QUICKE WAS MARRIED

CHAPTER 4

Back in her room, Grace paced the floor, her mind swirling with doubts. The King's command echoed in her ears, marriage was not optional. But how could she navigate such a decision in this new, unfamiliar life? The thought of marrying a woman felt foreign to her, even though it was now expected. She slumped into a chair, her head in her hands. "How can I pull this off?" she whispered to herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by faint voices outside her door. Rising cautiously, she approached and gently cracked the door open. Two guards stood in the hallway, their conversation hushed but audible.

Guard 1: Prince Quicke is acting strange,"

Guard 2: "Strange?"

Guard 1: "Yeah. He's… different. He doesn't command us like he used to. He's almost soft." He continued "And did you hear him compliment the Queen earlier? He's never done that before. Prince Quicke has always been fierce, cold. This is unsettling."

Guard 2: "Well, let's just hope it's for the better. But we should keep an eye on him. Something doesn't sit right."

Grace pulled back, her heart sinking. Closing the door, she slid to the floor, tears streaming down her face. "Maybe I should have stayed dead," she whispered. "This isn't my life. I'm not him. I'm nothing like him."

She buried her face in her hands, the weight of it all pressing down on her. "I don't know how to be Prince Quicke. I'm kind, gentle, everything he wasn't. How am I supposed to meet the expectations of this kingdom when I don't even know who I am anymore?"

"But then" Her thoughts turned sharp, her sadness replaced by a simmering anger. "My killers are out there, living their lives while I'm stuck here. They took everything from me. I can't and I won't let them go unpunished."

Wiping her tears, Grace stood with renewed determination. "This isn't the time to fall apart," she told herself. "If I have to be him, then I'll learn. And I'll use his power to get justice."

Over the next few days, Grace threw herself into transforming. She read Prince Quicke's journals and studied his mannerisms. She practiced speaking with authority, walking with confidence, and hiding her natural gentleness beneath a mask of strength. Slowly but surely, she began to piece together the image of who Prince Quicke was.

One evening, while searching for more clues about his life, she found a leather-bound journal tucked beneath the bed. Opening it, she discovered something that stopped her cold:

Prince Quicke had been married.

His late wife, whose name was repeatedly scrawled in the journal, had passed away from cancer years ago. Grace read page after page of heartfelt entries where Quicke poured out his grief. He had loved her deeply, and her loss had hardened him.

Flipping through the journal, Grace began to understand the pressure Quicke was under. He hadn't just been a prince, he had been a man trying to protect the throne while carrying the weight of his own pain. "Maybe he wasn't as cold as they thought," she murmured.

The final entry struck a chord: "If I must marry again for the good of the kingdom, then I will. But nothing will ever replace her."

Tears welled in Grace's eyes. She ran her fingers over the ink, as if she could feel the heartbreak in his words. "It's too soon for them to expect him to remarry," she whispered. "But now, it's my responsibility to fulfill what he couldn't."

She closed the journal, clutching it to her chest. "I'll do it," she said aloud. "Not for them, but for him. I'm in his body now, and that means I'm carrying his dreams. I'll get married, save the throne, and maybe even heal a part of him in the process."

With new resolve, Grace stood and looked at herself in the mirror. For the first time, she didn't just see herself as Grace Johnson or even as an imposter. She saw Prince Quicke. And she knew she would gradually become him, not just for her sake, but for his.