A strained quietness hung between the three of them.
It had been only that morning that the palace newspaper, always too eager to stir chaos, had published its latest piece of nonsense. In bold letters, it proclaimed that "destiny has dropped an angel into the arms of the Empire's scholarly Crown Prince," complete with an embellished commentary about the "war he must wage for a love forbidden by nations."
The article had spread like wildfire. Not because anyone believed its romantic drivel, but because it made a particularly sharp mockery of the Wraisan princess. The court had laughed; the Emperor had rolled his eyes; the Empress had sighed.
Flavian, however, was boiling. Not blushing, not irritated, but boiling. He sat stiffly at the table, his jaw clenched, stabbing invisible holes into the tablecloth with his glare alone. Ever since the Wraisan princess's proposal had circulated publicly through the rumours, nobles had taken it upon themselves to whisper, speculate, and, far worse, ask brazenly whether he was planning to marry a foreign princess.
As though he had no say.
As though his heart had not already been claimed.
As though being separated from Leesa for so long was not already tearing at his very ribs.
And then came the princess herself, relentless, determined, and entirely without self-awareness, making her bold advances at every opportunity. All of it together churned inside him like a storm. The Empress watched her son's expression with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. The Emperor, meanwhile, tapped his fingers against the armrest, bracing himself for the moment when Flavian would inevitably explode.
No one spoke. No one needed to. The Crown Prince's fury was practically radiating across the table, hot enough to warm the room without a single candle lit.
"Fuuu…" The Empress exhaled, resting her chin delicately upon her hand. "Let us retrace this madness from the beginning, shall we? At what moment, precisely, did all of this begin?"
Flavian pressed a palm against his forehead, resigned. "Very well. But do not blame me if the retelling ruins your appetite."
Both parents leaned in. Flavian began.
"It started immediately after her… declaration in the throne room," he said with a weary sigh. "The very next morning, she appeared at my office door with an armful of flowers, different ones each day. I have no idea where she keeps finding them; perhaps she is plundering the palace gardens."
The Emperor groaned softly.
"She arranges them in the vase on my desk," Flavian continued, "with the enthusiasm of a maiden in a romance ballad. Then she lingers. Wandering. Sighing. Smiling. Hovering like a perfumed ghost. And when she finally tires of being ignored, she departs..." He lifted a hand dramatically."Shouting at the top of her lungs how much she enjoys her time with me, followed by that shrill giggle of hers."
The Empress coughed into her sleeve to hide her amusement.
"And, of course," Flavian added sharply, "there is always a nobleman conveniently standing outside my door at that precise moment, one who will later spread the tale as though the gods themselves asked him to."
"Mm," the Emperor muttered, "the palace does enjoy its rumours."
"Then," Flavian said with growing frustration, "when I finally restricted her entry into my office, she began sending letters. Endless letters. I stopped counting after seventeen."
The Empress's brows rose. "Seventeen in how many days?"
"Three."
"Oh my."
"And now," Flavian concluded, nearly slumping onto the table, "she is demanding that I escort her around the capital since she is 'on holiday.' I am fairly certain every location she listed is a courting site. If the next one involves a moonlit lake or a secluded garden, I shall forbid any means of communication between us entirely."
The Emperor rubbed his temples. The Empress exhaled again, long and dramatic. And the Crown Prince looked as though he was fighting for his sanity.
"Well, do not be too hard on yourself, my son. I bring tidings that may brighten your mood," the Emperor said gently. With a sympathetic look, he reached into his pockets and withdrew a sealed letter, the wax stamped with the unmistakable sigil of the Mage Tower.
"This arrived only an hour ago. It reports strange happenings in the forests behind the tower. The Tower Master states that full details will be delivered directly to us; the palace's envoys have already taken flight for the palace."
Flavian's posture shifted at once, tension lifting ever so slightly from his expression.
"Congratulations, dear son," the Empress said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "It seems you may escape this tiresome predicament sooner than expected."
Flavian exhaled, almost a laugh. "I only hope Leesa manages to keep her composure when she hears about this Wraisan princess. If she loses her temper, even the heavens cannot save that girl."
A true smile, rare and soft, finally surfaced on Flavian's face. The Empress caught it, her heart warming with fierce resolve. Yes, she thought, this girl will be my daughter-in-law. No foreign princess, no rumour, no imperial pressure will change that.
The Empress did not bother with subtlety. She set down her teacup and, in the most casual, fluid tone imaginable, said, "Dear...," she addressed the Emperor with a serene smile, "how about we write to the Duke and Duchess of Marlene regarding the engagement of their precious daughter to our son?"
The table fell silent. Flavian's ears turned crimson almost instantly. A marriage proposal? An official engagement? He had never dared to think that far, not aloud, at least, but hearing it from his mother's own lips sent a flutter through his chest he could not suppress. His heart leapt before he could catch it, excitement bubbling like a boy receiving the sweetest secret.
The Emperor blinked, taken aback, though he quickly regained his composure. "My dear," he began carefully, "I understand your intentions spring from concern for our son… but do you not think this is a rather hasty decision? Matters of the heart should not be rushed. Should we not allow the children to decide such things for themselves?"