A child bride

abrupt change in her life, moved through the opulent halls of the palace like a sleepwalker, her senses numbed by the constant barrage of new experiences. She had met Lucian, briefly,

Hesitantly, Anya approached him. "Your Highness?" she said softly. Lucian looked up, startled. He quickly straightened, his expression hardening. "Lady Anya," he said, his voice cool and formal. "I didn't realize anyone else knew about this place." "I stumbled upon it by accident," Anya explained. "I... I hope I'm not intruding." Lucian hesitated, then gestured towards the bench beside him. "Not at all. Please, join me." Anya sat down, her heart pounding. This was the first time she had been alone with Lucian since their awkward encounter at the dinner. She sensed an opportunity to break through the barriers of formality and get to know the man she was destined to marry. "You seem troubled, Your Highness," she ventured. Lucian sighed. "It's... complicated." "Perhaps talking about it would help," Anya suggested gently. Lucian looked at her, surprised. "You would listen?" "Of course," Anya said. "I... I want to understand." Lucian hesitated for a moment, then began to speak, his voice low and hesitant at first, then gaining strength as he poured out his frustrations and fears. He spoke of the pressure to produce an heir, the stifling expectations of the court, the loneliness of his position. He confessed his doubts about the arranged marriage, his fear that he would never find true love. Anya listened intently, her heart aching for him. She saw a vulnerability in him that he had hidden from the world, a yearning for connection and authenticity. She found herself drawn to him, not as a prince or a future king, but as a fellow human being struggling with the we

, and the expectations that came with their royal titles. Anya felt a hand gently brush against hers. She looked up to see Lucian offering his arm, a tentative smile playing on his lips. Hesitantly, she placed her hand on his arm, surprised by the warmth that radiated through his touch. "Thank you," Lucian murmured, his voice barely audible above the chirping of crickets. "For listening." "And thank you," Anya replied, her voice equally soft, "for sharing." They walked in silence for a moment, their hands linked, a silent pact forged between them. As they reached the imposing palace doors, Lucian paused, his gaze searching hers. "Anya," he began, then stopped, as if unsure how to proc