I always thought turning twenty would be a magical experience.
Like, poof—suddenly I'd be hot, powerful, and maybe develop the ability to win arguments with my father.
Instead, I woke up to lukewarm tea, eggs that looked personally offended to be on my plate, and a royal decree that I was getting married.
To a stranger.
From Caelorth.
A kingdom so cold and joyless, their official colors are gray and grayer. Their last queen was rumored to have died of boredom. And now, because our kingdoms have spent the last three years in a passive-aggressive game of war chicken, my hand in marriage is apparently the olive branch.
"Congratulations," my father said, with the warmth of a frozen brick. "You're going to be a queen."
Yay. Crowns and political trauma.
"You're giving me away like I'm a very well-spoken goat," I told him, while dramatically stabbing my toast.
He didn't even flinch. "You're a princess. This is what's expected."
What's expected is that I smile and curtsy and marry a Caelorthian prince I've never met, all because our soldiers can't stop poking each other across the border like bored toddlers with swords.
And I was just supposed to... accept that?
I mean, sure. I always knew I wouldn't get a love match. We don't do that in the upper levels of the royal pyramid. Romance is for peasants and poets and girls with zero political value. But still—Regaleon of Caelorth?
Even his name sounds like a threat.
"I don't even know what he looks like," I said. "He could have twelve eyes and an attitude."
My father blinked at me. "He has two eyes. And excellent posture."
Not comforting.
"Besides," he added, "he's the second son. You won't have to worry about ruling. It's more of a symbolic union. Strengthening ties. Deterring bloodshed."
Deterring bloodshed with a wedding. How medieval of us.
"I could fake my death," I offered helpfully. "Fall off a cliff. Disappear into the woods. Become a mysterious folklore legend—The Phantom Princess of Veylinthia."
"Chloe."
"Too dramatic?"
He gave me the Look™️. The one that said I love you, but also, please stop being like this.
"Fine," I muttered. "But if he turns out to be an ogre with poor hygiene, I'm setting the castle on fire."
---
After the meeting, I wandered the halls of the palace like a very fancy ghost.
The maids gave me sympathetic smiles. The guards gave me polite nods. One of the cooks handed me a cookie and whispered, "Run while you still can."
Icon.
I ended up in the library, curled into the window seat with a blanket and an aggressively romantic novel I was definitely not projecting onto.
A girl needs an outlet.
It's not that I don't understand why this is happening. Our kingdom isn't exactly thriving. We've lost two major ports, half our wheat farms were burned during last summer's raids, and our army is held together by duct tape, good intentions, and General Rivas' mustache.
We need Caelorth.
We need peace.
And apparently, I'm the price of admission.
Still, a girl can sulk. It's my right as a princess and a Leo.
---
Later that evening, I stood on the balcony, watching the sun set over Veylinthia. The city shimmered below—soft pink rooftops, gold-lined towers, vendors calling out the last of their wares.
It was beautiful.
It was home.
And in three weeks, I'd be leaving it. Trading it for cold halls, foreign faces, and a husband whose voice I'd never even heard.
Lucky me.
"Chloe," came a voice behind me.
I turned. My father again. No crown, just a tired face and the posture of a man who's made too many impossible decisions.
He didn't speak for a long time.
Then finally: "I didn't want this for you."
I blinked. "You have a funny way of showing it."
He sighed, stepping beside me. "You were supposed to grow up in a time of peace. I tried to build that world for you. I failed."
His voice was quiet. Raw.
And that's the thing about being a princess—sometimes, you forget your parents are just people. Flawed, exhausted, trying not to screw up the future in real time.
"I know why you're doing it," I said, softer now. "But I still hate it."
"I know."
We stood in silence together, watching the light fade.
And in that moment, I was
n't a pawn. I wasn't a bride. I was just a girl who loved her kingdom—and was terrified of what came next.