The Royal Affair

Chapter 19

The great hall was a spectacle of grandeur, a testament to Jericho's wealth and power. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the polished stone floor. The air thrummed with the hushed excitement of the assembled guests, nobles and dignitaries from across the kingdom, their faces a mixture of curiosity and anticipation.

The altar, adorned with flowers and candles, stood at the far end of the hall, a focal point of the ceremony. King Francis stood before it, his expression a mixture of pride and possessiveness, his eyes fixed on Alexa as she entered the hall.

Derek, his face a mask of stoic composure, escorted Alexa down the aisle. The weight of her hand in his was a tangible reminder of the gravity of the moment. Each step was a step further into a future she hadn't chosen.

As she walked, Alexa's gaze swept across the assembled crowd. She saw the faces of the court, their expressions a mixture of awe and speculation. She felt like an object on display, a prize to be won.

When they reached the altar, Derek relinquished her hand, his touch lingering for a fleeting moment. He stepped back, his duty fulfilled, his heart a heavy weight in his chest.

The ceremony began, the words of the priest echoing through the hall. They spoke of duty, loyalty, and the sacred bond of marriage. Alexa listened, her expression carefully neutral, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

King Francis, his voice booming with pride, responded to the vows with unwavering conviction. Alexa, her voice soft but clear, repeated the words, her gaze fixed on the priest, her heart aching with a sense of loss.

When the time came for the exchange of rings, Francis slipped a heavy gold band onto Alexa's finger, his touch possessive and demanding. Alexa, her hand trembling slightly, placed a ring on his finger, her touch fleeting and impersonal.

The priest pronounced them husband and wife, his words sealing their fate. King Francis, his face flushed with triumph, pulled Alexa into a possessive embrace, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was forceful and demanding.

Alexa, her body rigid, endured the kiss, her eyes closed, her mind a million miles away. She felt trapped, a prisoner in a cage.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their applause echoing through the hall. But amidst the celebration, Derek stood apart, his face a mask of stoic composure, his heart breaking in silence. He watched as Alexa, the woman he had come to admire, the woman he secretly longed for, was bound to another, her fate sealed in a ceremony of political necessity.

The celebration that followed the ceremony was a lavish affair, a display of Jericho's wealth and power. The great hall, now transformed into a banquet hall, buzzed with music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets. Servants moved through the crowd, their arms laden with platters of food and wine, their faces beaming with pride.

King Francis, his arm possessively around Alexa's waist, paraded her through the hall, introducing her to the assembled guests. He basked in the attention, his laughter loud and boisterous, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

Alexa, her expression a mask of regal composure, endured the festivities with a quiet dignity. She offered polite smiles and courteous nods, her responses measured and restrained. But beneath the surface, a storm of emotions raged within her. She felt like a prisoner in a gilded cage, her freedom sacrificed for the sake of political gain.

Derek, standing at the edge of the crowd, watched her with a heavy heart. He saw the forced smile, the carefully controlled demeanor, the subtle flicker of pain in her eyes. He longed to offer her comfort, to shield her from the King's possessiveness and the court's scrutiny. But he knew his place. He was a loyal soldier, bound by duty and honor.

As the night wore on, the King's behavior grew increasingly boisterous. He drank heavily, his laughter growing louder, his touch more possessive. He pulled Alexa close, his words slurred and suggestive, his eyes burning with a possessive fire.

Alexa, her composure unwavering, endured his advances with a quiet strength. She knew she had to play the game, to maintain the facade, to remember Peter's words about power and influence. But with each passing moment, the weight of her sacrifice grew heavier.

The celebration continued, the music and dancing persisting late into the night. But for Alexa, the joy had faded, replaced by a growing sense of dread. The thought of the wedding night, the moment when she would finally be forced to submit to the King's desires, filled her with a chilling unease.

As the celebration began to wind down, the lively music fading into a softer melody, Alexa felt the panic within her growing, a suffocating wave that threatened to consume her. The forced smiles and polite conversations became increasingly difficult to maintain. The thought of the impending wedding night, the moment when she would be alone with the King, sent a shiver of fear down her spine.

Her chambermaids, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and duty, escorted her to her chambers to change. The opulent room, once a symbol of her new status, now felt like a prison, its gilded furniture and silken drapes mocking her captivity.

The head chambermaid, her voice gentle but firm, began to instruct Alexa on what to expect. "The bedding ceremony is a tradition, Princess," she explained, her gaze meeting Alexa's with a hint of sadness. "There will be people in the room, behind the curtains, to witness the consummation. It's to ensure the legitimacy of any future heirs."

Alexa's breath hitched in her throat. The idea of being watched, of having her most intimate moment become a public spectacle, filled her with disgust and humiliation.

The head chambermaid's eyes softened, her tone becoming more comforting. "But ignore them, Princess," she advised, her voice low and soothing. "Focus on yourself. And... try to relax your body. It will be much easier if you do."

Her gaze lingered on Alexa, a silent message of understanding passing between them. The head chambermaid had seen it all, had cared for countless maidens after their encounters with the King, their bodies bruised and their spirits broken. She knew the King's reputation, his roughness, his disregard for his partners' feelings.

With a final, pitying look, the head chambermaid led Alexa from her chambers, towards the King's. Each step was a step closer to the abyss, each breath a struggle against the rising tide of panic and anxiety that washed over Alexa.

They reached the King's chambers, the heavy oak doors looming before them like a gateway to her doom. The room beyond was filled with a small group of men, their faces a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. Among them stood Derek, his expression carefully controlled, his jaw tight. He tried to maintain his composure, to appear as stoic and impassive as ever, but a flicker of something - pain, perhaps, or a desperate longing - betrayed him.