Luna Lucky

16

In our embrace, Will spoke firmly, though I could feel the concern in his tone. “Lucky, baby, I need you to know—I need your answer on what we’re going to do.”

I tilted my head up to meet his mismatched eyes, their intensity holding me steady.

“Will, I won’t lie,” I said softly. “I’m terrified of going up against your wives. But I’m even more mortified knowing Lola is after me. I don’t know what to do as Queen, but if you can promise to be by my side, then… I know I can be okay.”

His lips curved into that familiar, reassuring smile. “You have nothing to fear, Lucky,” he said, his voice steady and confident. “For as long as you’re under the royal education, my brother and my appointed royal guards will protect you. If any of the Princesses so much as think about insulting you, they’ll be put back in their place.” His expression darkened slightly, the protective edge in his voice making my heart flutter. “But there’s one thing I must do first, and it must be done the right way.”

He stepped away, taking the dress he had chosen earlier and carefully placing it on an empty rack. Then, with a newfound energy, he began sifting through the clothes, speaking lightly, his tone almost playful.

“Will you go on a date with me?” he asked, turning to face me with excitement radiating from him. “I’d love to ask you something during the date—only if you agree.”

His question caught me off guard, but in the best way. Happiness welled up inside me, memories of our early days together flashing through my mind. His words warmed my heart.

Instead of replying, I walked up to him, cupped his face, and captured his lips in a soft kiss. When I pulled back, my lips curved into a wide smile.

“I would love to go out with you,” I said, my voice full of warmth.

Will pressed his forehead against mine, his voice soft as he whispered, “Thank you, baby.”

I held onto my smile, feeling a sense of lightness I hadn’t felt in so long. Turning back toward the racks of clothes in front of us, I began scanning them, though the thought of trying anything on still made me uneasy.

Will seemed to know exactly what he wanted for me to wear, but as I looked through the options, most of the clothes felt too… girly. Long dresses, light colors, floral patterns, butterflies—they all made me feel like a child rather than a woman.

One by one, I tried on the outfits Will had chosen, but none of them felt like me. Each time I stepped out of the changing room, he sat in a chair, watching with a thoughtful gaze. He didn’t criticize, but I could tell he saw how uncomfortable I felt.

The dresses were long, their hems brushing my ankles, and the sleeves always covered my arms. Soft whites, pastel hues, and delicate patterns—it was all so far from the casual, easygoing clothes I used to wear.

I wasn’t a tomboy. I wasn’t into fashion either. I just wanted to feel like myself, and the more I looked at these clothes, the more I worried about losing the person I used to be. Did Will feel the same way when he had to leave his simple life behind to embrace his royal identity?

As I changed back into the robe provided by the fitting room, I called out to Will. “I think you’d prefer me to wear something different, Will. Don’t get me wrong—I know the rules. No more pants. And that’s fine. But could I wear something like a shirt with a skirt? Something that feels… more like me?”

When I stepped out, he was standing by the rack, his fingers brushing over the fabric of a dress he had just picked out. Turning toward me, he held it up with a bright expression.

It was a summer dress—a short-sleeved, black V-neck dress with large red flower patterns. It was much closer to my style but still leaned toward the feminine.

He also found a collared red dress, fitted at the waist and flowing down to my ankles. Despite its style, the rich red color gave it a bolder, more mature feel that I could tolerate.

Lastly, he picked a red lapel dress with long pleated sleeves, black polka dots, and pockets. I couldn’t help but smile at the practicality of the pockets—it was a small touch that made the overly feminine dress feel a bit more acceptable.

“These dresses are just the beginning,” I thought to myself, knowing I would need more outfits for special occasions. The thought made me uncomfortable, but I could see the effort Will was putting in.

He even went as far as picking out swimwear for me, along with coverups. “You’re not allowed to swim in public without a full suit,” he explained, “but indoors, you can wear what you like.”

Hearing that, I understood more about his world. I began to realize why he had chosen to live in a tent when we first started dating. The rules, the expectations, the constant pressure—it all made so much more sense now.

♥️

Wearing the new clothes Will had picked, I walked out of the changing room. As I adjusted the hem of the dress, my eyes landed on someone unexpected. A man sat in another seat nearby, his body frame and warm smile bearing a faint resemblance to Will’s, but nothing else about him was similar. His sharp features and the way he carried himself spoke of authority and refinement.

He stood the moment I stepped out, his movements deliberate and confident. Approaching me, he extended a hand with a polite yet regal air and spoke.

“Hello, I’m Prince Weston Alaric Draycott, Crown Prince of the Crescent Kingdom. My eldest brother has extended his invitation for me to assist in preparing you for your role. Congratulations are in order, Your Majesty.”

His formal words made me pause, blinking in amazement. My gaze shifted from his outstretched hand to his composed expression, trying to process his sudden appearance and what he meant.

Before I could respond, Will interrupted with a chuckle, placing a hand on Weston’s shoulder.

“I love a good family reunion,” he said, grinning. “West has finally met my Lucky mate.”

His lame attempt at humor caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help but giggle, quickly placing my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. Weston raised an eyebrow at me, surprised, before a bright smile broke across his face.

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Weston said, his voice full of playful disbelief. “You’re laughing at his ridiculous, lame jokes, Your Majesty? Now that is a lucky miracle for sure.”

Weston’s comment made him burst into laughter, and Will’s smile grew even brighter, his pride shining in his eyes. My own laughter bubbled up again, uncontrollable, until all three of us were laughing together.

In that moment, I realized how alike they were—not in appearance or personality, but in how they both had this way of making me feel lighter. I hadn’t expected Weston to be so wonderful, so warm. Maybe being around him wouldn’t be as overwhelming as I had feared.

As our laughter started to die down, Will patted Weston’s shoulder with a grin, leaning in to talk to him about something. Whatever it was, it made Will’s expression shift into one of mischief.

I watched as the two of them moved to a small board with erasable markers on a nearby table. They began scribbling something, whispering and glancing back at me occasionally.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I crossed my arms, tilting my head as I called out, “What are you two writing? Am I being tested already?”

Both men froze for a moment before exchanging a look. Will’s grin widened, while Weston’s expression turned mock-serious as he turned to me, marker still in hand.