Chapter Two: Ryan’s POV
1032 Words
Across the border, in Dalverra, Ryan adjusted the sleeves of his suit jacket for the third time, even though nothing was wrong with them. The palace office around him was quiet, the kind of quiet that made his thoughts louder. Documents lay neatly stacked on his desk, signed, sealed, and delivered—nothing left for him to hide behind, no excuse to stay buried in work.
He just sat and stared at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him.
Princess Star of Aurelia had officially landed in her home country forty-six minutes ago.
He knew because his sister, Amelia, was counting down the minutes out loud in the hallway.
A princess he had never met, never spoken to, and can’t seem to find any pictures of, in the European tabloids. Yet her name had been tossed around the international press for years — the royal who left for “experience abroad,” for “self-growth,” for “finding purpose,” depending on which magazine printed the headline.
He had opinions about people who ran from their duties.
And none of them were flattering.
His father’s words from earlier echoed in his head:
“You don’t have to agree to anything, Ryan. But we owe it to our families to let you meet her properly.”
He understood what that meant.
It meant, please do this. We want this alliance.
Ryan braced his hands against the polished table and exhaled slowly. “It’s not even arranged,” he muttered to himself. “Just heavily… suggested.”
Which somehow felt worse.
“Forty-seven!” Amelia called, knocking on his door for the third time in five minutes. “Has she messaged you yet?”
Ryan closed his eyes. “Why would she message me?”
“Because you’re her future husband, obviously!”
He choked. “We are not engaged.”
“Not yet.”
The door cracked open and Amelia’s head popped in. She had a talent for entering rooms without being invited — a younger sibling superpower. “But the national bookies have already started bets.”
Ryan groaned into his hands. “They would.”
Amelia swept into the room with the dramatic flair of someone who had zero diplomatic training and all the confidence in the world. She plopped into the armchair opposite him, cross-legged, holding her phone horizontally like she was about to stream the unfolding disaster.
“So,” she said brightly, “excited to meet the princess no one has seen in literal years?”
Ryan didn’t even look up. “Great. Maybe we can bond over avoiding cameras and annoying siblings.”
“Aw, look at you. Already bonding with your mystery wife. Cute.”
Amelia gasped. “Oh my gosh. Do you think she’s secretly ugly?”
“Amelia!”
“What? These are important details! How am I supposed to root for your romance if I don’t know if she has, like… eyebrows?”
Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t a romance.”
“It could be.”
“It won’t be.”
“It might be.”
“Leave.”
“No.”
He glared at her. She smiled sweetly back.
He stood and walked toward the windows, pacing like a man preparing for execution. “She’s probably like all the other royal daughters we’ve hosted. Spoiled. Unambitious. Terrified of real work.”
“Uh-huh.” Amelia pretended to type notes. “Unambitious, spoiled, maybe browless—go on.”
He ignored her.
His voice turned quieter, more serious.
“Princesses like her… they grew up cushioned. Everything served to them. Everything easy.”
He exhaled. “They don’t understand sacrifice. Or duty. Or commitment. Or what it means to be responsible for other people.”
Amelia’s teasing faded briefly. “This isn’t about her, is it?”
He didn’t answer.
She got up, walked over, and bumped his shoulder with hers.
“Just—don’t write her off before you meet her,” she said softly. “Not every woman is like her…”
He didn’t answer, but He thought “maybe Amelia is right”. However, He did not have any more chances to give.
“Also, do you think she’s hiding because she hates the spotlight. Or because she’s shy. Or because she’s actually a supermodel and she’s saving the internet from collapse.”
Ryan snorted. “Right.”
“You never know.” Amelia shrugged. “You know, apparently, she’s… humble. Hugged the staff who came to meet her, who happens to be her actual friend, she made everyone smile—everyone says she’s just so… genuine.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened. He ran a hand through his hair, voice low. “Genuine, huh? That’s exactly what everyone says before it turns out to be a show. A performance. I don’t care how many smiles she’s given—there’s always a side no one sees.”
Amelia frowned. “You don’t think she’s… real?”
“I think she’s doing what she has to do,” he muttered, eyes narrowing. “All the perfect gestures, the polite words… probably carefully measured. I’m not impressed by what I see on the surface.”
Amelia hesitated, then said gently, “Well, maybe she’s just… nice. People can be genuine without a hidden agenda.”
His narrative wobbled.
Annoyingly.
Amelia nudged him. “Maybe she’s actually… nice.”
“That,” Ryan said stiffly, “remains to be seen.”
She smirked. “Aw, you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“You are so scared.”
“I am the future king. I don’t get scared.”
“You get scared all the time,” she said. “Of spiders. Of public dancing.”
“That was one time.”
“Two.”
He threw a cushion at her. She cackled as it bounced uselessly off her arm.
Ryan exhaled, long and slow.
Princess Star.
The spoiled, unambitious, probably-glitter-covered stranger he’d already decided she must be.
But also, the girl who hugged her staff, hid her own face from the world, and defied every other rule of royal publicity.
And soon, they would meet.
- Writer
