THE ROYAL PRINCESS

POV – Princess Amara Bellavine

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It was always like this.

Having overprotective parents wasn’t a blessing — it was a curse in the most dazzling disguise. My entire life, for twenty-four long years, had been a perfectly decorated cage of golden rules and royal expectations. I often wondered… would I ever be free?

I gently pushed open my chamber door. The morning light spilled through the long corridors of Bellavine Palace, glinting off the marble floors and golden chandeliers. Maids hurried past, bowing as they crossed my path. Their voices blended with the distant chime of bells echoing through the halls.

“Ah, yes,” I sighed to myself. “Council meeting day.”

The palace was alive with activity — ministers, servants, guards — all preparing for the grand assembly.

My name is Amara Bellavine, the only princess of Bellavara, a small yet powerful kingdom in the northern part of Europe. Our land is a strange paradox — snow-kissed mountains rise over blooming valleys, and icy rivers flow beside spring meadows. The Bellavine bloodline has ruled for generations, our crest symbolizing both beauty and strength.

“Amara… sweety! It’s time for the audience,” a familiar voice called, pulling me from my thoughts.

I turned, and there he was — tall, graceful, and annoyingly perfect — my brother. His shoulder-length blond hair caught the morning light, and his green eyes, the same shade as mine, carried a teasing warmth.

“Good morning, brother,” I said with a smile. “Or should I say, His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Rowan Bellavine?”

He groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Curse these courtesies. Just call me your brother, Amara. We don’t need formalities between us.”

I chuckled softly. He’s right, I thought.

Rowan — my brother, my confidant, the future king of Bellavara. In this palace of rules and responsibilities, he was the only one who made me feel human. Our parents, though loving, were rulers first — monarchs devoted to the kingdom and its glory. We, their children, were raised not as heirs to love, but as heirs to duty.

“It’s time,” Rowan said, breaking the silence. “The council is waiting.”

“Let’s go,” I replied, gathering my composure.

Together we walked through the long royal corridor, the scent of roses and old parchment filling the air. The grand doors of the council chamber opened before us, revealing the nobles and ministers already seated in their designated places.

“Greetings to the honorable King and Queen,” we both said, bowing deeply.

Our parents, King Addam Bellavine and Queen Rachel Bellavine, looked at us with pride and affection. Father’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, while Mother’s serene grace filled the room with quiet strength.

We took our seats beside them as the meeting began.

“Princess, you’re becoming more radiant with each passing day,” one of the elderly lords remarked with a courteous smile.

I returned a polite nod. “You’re kind, my lord. Let us begin.”

Rowan leaned forward, his tone commanding yet respectful. “Proceed with the matters of the kingdom.”

The discussions flowed — politics, economy, public welfare. The topic soon turned to security. Reports of illegal activities near the borders had the council worried. As the Public Relations Ambassador of Bellavara, it was my role to address the people’s concerns and represent the crown’s compassion.

I voiced suggestions for better community alliances and reforms, earning approving murmurs from the council.

“As expected from our wise and elegant Princess,” another lord praised.

My father laughed heartily, his eyes glimmering with both pride and mischief.

“Well,” he said, his voice echoing through the chamber, “perhaps it’s time my daughter finds a husband!”

My smile froze.

For a heartbeat, silence fell.

“Father…” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

I turned toward him, my pulse quickening. The council exchanged amused glances; my brother stifled a laugh.

Marriage.

Of course.

In this kingdom, even love is a matter of politics.

I met my father’s gaze — calm, regal, unyielding.