The Royal Agreement

Chapter Eleven

The guards finally pulled the doors open, and Victor offered me his arm. I hesitated for just a second before taking it, the gesture was both reassuring and terrifying. Together, we walked into the room—a wide, grand space that screamed importance and tradition. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed four people at the center of the room.

My heart skipped a beat when I recognized them: my Mom, Dad, the woman Victoria I had met weeks ago, and another elegant woman who bore a striking resemblance to Victor. Her beauty was timeless, and she radiated a quiet strength that instantly commanded respect.

Their expressions were a confusing mix—worry, sadness, and something I couldn’t quite place. Victor beside me was stiff, the tension in his body matching the grim look on his face. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, and it felt like I had just walked into the middle of a storm I hadn’t been prepared for.

I couldn’t wrap my head around why my parents were here, or why they looked so different. Dad, usually relaxed and approachable, sat straight-backed with an aura of clipped authority that I hadn’t seen in him before. He felt like a stranger at that moment, a different person entirely. Mom, always the gentle, soft-spoken one, looked at me with a worried intensity that made my stomach churn with anxiety.

They also changed into something like what nobility wore on a Sunday. It made them look and feel powerful. Like I don’t know them anymore. Like they were someone else.

As we approached, Victor bowed deeply to Victoria and the other woman. “Grandmother, Mother,” he said, his voice respectful yet strained.

So this was his mother. She was stunning, not much older than my own mom, and she had an air of elegance that was both intimidating and awe-inspiring. She was holding my mom’s hand, and there was a bond between them that I couldn’t quite understand.

I immediately followed Victor’s lead, bowing awkwardly to both women, feeling the pressure of the formalities. Victor gestured for me to sit beside him, and I complied, though my legs felt like they could give out at any moment. The room was silent, everyone’s eyes on us, and I could feel the weight of their gazes pressing me down.

I looked at my parents, silently pleading for some kind of explanation. They returned my gaze with worry—Dad’s stern, composed expression contrasted sharply with Mom’s obvious distress. What was going on? Why did they seem so different, so distant?

The tension in the room was suffocating, and just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, Victor broke the silence.

“Why did you call us now?” he asked, his voice sharp, cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a knife. I could feel his frustration, his impatience, and it mirrored my own confusion.

I glanced around the room, trying to find answers in their faces, but all I saw were more questions. My hands were clasped tightly in my lap, the anxiety twisting my stomach into knots. If they didn’t start explaining things soon, I was afraid I might actually puke from the stress of it all.

Dad cleared his throat, sitting up even straighter as he looked at Victoria. Before she could speak, there was a knock on the door, and two servers rushed in, carrying trays of snacks and refreshments. They moved with the efficiency of people used to serving royalty, setting everything down quickly before stepping back.

As they left, I caught their words as they addressed everyone in the room: “Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses.”

My mind screeched to a halt. What? My thoughts raced, each one more frantic than the last. Your Majesty? Your Highness? Where the heck was I? Who were these people sitting with me? And what did that make Victor? Were my hunches correct? Were they royalty? Where do I stand?

My heart pounded in my chest, the reality of the situation slamming into me like a freight train. This wasn’t just a fancy house. This was a palace, and these people weren’t just well-off—they were royalty. Actual royalty. I felt like I had been dropped into a storybook, but there was no happy ending in sight, only a growing sense of panic.

Victor’s mother—Ida, I guess? If I was correct. This information came from the stuff I had been reading—I turned to my mom, her voice soft but firm. “Gabbi, should we still push through? Considering their ages and the situation?”

Victoria’s response was immediate, her tone urgent. “Malthe is in a very critical state right now, and we need to decide, Ida. This is for Denmark. Victor is the future king!”

The world tilted, and I had to remind myself to keep breathing. King? Victor? No, this couldn’t be happening. This had to be some kind of mistake. My heart raced, my mind struggling to keep up with everything being thrown at me. I shot a quick glance at Victor, who looked as if he was barely holding it together.

King? How could Victor be a king? This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t.

“Mother… What about our dearest Ciella? Her state?” Ida asked softly, her eyes darting to me.

My head snapped up and panic threatened to double me over. What about me? What is happening? Victoria turned her gaze to me, and I immediately looked down at my clasped hands, the anxiety almost too much to bear.

“She will soon recover. We can fill her in.”

Fill me in. On what? The world felt like it was closing in on me, each word, each revelation, making it harder to breathe. This was all happening too fast, too suddenly. None of this made any sense. Who was I, really? How could they expect me to just go along with all of this?

Victor’s voice cut through the fog of my thoughts, louder this time. “Enough of this. Why are we here? What is there to be discussed with us? Father is in a critical state, and I might soon take his place as King. Why are we even called here?”

The room fell into a heavy silence. The words he just muttered felt like a shadow enveloping us. I felt like I was drowning in the tension, each second stretching into an eternity. I glanced at my mom again, and the look on her face—worry, fear, guilt—made my stomach drop.

It was Dad who finally spoke, his voice steady and deliberate. “As the heir to the throne of Denmark, you, the Crown Prince, have agreed to be wed to the grandchild of your grandfather’s closest friend. Our family friend. You are to marry our daughter, Ciella.”

The words didn’t quite register at first, but when they did, it was like the floor had fallen out from under me.

“What?” My voice was loud, and frantic, as I shot up from my seat. “Wed? You’re talking about marriage?”

Maybe I had gone deaf, or maybe my brain just couldn’t handle the overload. Too much information was being forced into my system, and it was like my mind had short-circuited, unable to process any of it.

I looked around the room, my gaze bouncing from Mom to Dad to Victoria, Ida, and finally, Victor, who looked like he was ready to explode. His face was a mask of barely contained fury, his eyes dark and stormy.

“You and Victor are to be married, Ciella. By the wish of your late grandfather and Victor’s grandfather. Also, to me and my dear friend, Agatha, your grandmother,” Victoria said calmly as if she was discussing the weather rather than my entire future.

I gaped at her, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The room seemed to spin, my ears ringing as my senses shut down, refusing to accept what I had just heard.

Married? At twenty-one years old? I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the idea. I had come to Denmark expecting answers, but instead, I was getting a husband and my freedom was ripped away from me in one fell swoop.

Part of me wanted to scream, to demand that they take it all back, but another part of me was too shocked to do anything but stand there, staring in disbelief. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t.

I hadn’t even fully absorbed the fact that Victor was a prince, let alone that I was expected to marry him. A prince! And me? I wasn’t royalty—I was just an ordinary girl with a messed-up memory and a lot of questions. How could this even be happening?

“Wait! Y-you must be mistaken!” I stammered, my voice trembling with panic. “I’m not a princess! Royalty can’t marry a commoner…”

I was grasping at straws, desperately trying to find some way out of this nightmare. There had to be a mistake, a loophole—anything that would make this situation go away. But my words felt weak, pathetic even, as they hung in the air, ignored by the people who had already decided my fate.

“A commoner can always marry royalty, Ciella. Remember that,” Victoria said

“No… You can’t do this to me,” I said, my voice quivering with a mix of anger and desperation.

I looked at my parents, my last hope, only to see their pleading expressions. Mom’s hand tightened on my arm as if she could physically hold me back from the rage that was building inside me. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, each beat a reminder that this wasn’t just some medieval story where a woman’s fate was decided for her.

But here I was, in a palace, surrounded by people who seemed to think otherwise. This was supposed to be my life, my choice. How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly? I was independent, and capable of making my own decisions, especially when it came to something as monumental as marriage. What was this? The medieval times? Sure, I may be a commoner, but that didn’t mean I was going to let them take away my rights. I wasn’t just some pawn to be traded for alliances.

“I’m sorry, Mom, Dad. I cannot do this. You cannot do this to me.”