A Crown Without Love

The announcement came with grandeur, as all royal declarations did.

From the towering balconies of the Grand Palace of Maria to the farthest villages of Springland, heralds carried the news with pride:

Prince Louis, the Prince of Maria, would be engaged to Lady Benjamina.

The kingdom rejoiced.

To them, it was a symbol of unity—a merging of bloodlines, a strengthening of the royal house. The people saw elegance, destiny, and hope in the union.

But within the palace walls, the truth was far less enchanting.

There was no love.

Prince Louis stood beside Benjamina during the official announcement, his expression calm, his posture perfect. He played his role flawlessly, offering a courteous smile when required, holding her hand when the court demanded it.

But his eyes… his eyes never lingered on her.

Benjamina noticed.

How could she not?

At first, she told herself it didn’t matter. This was not a marriage of love—it was a mission. A purpose. A step toward the revenge Queen Mother Joana had planted deep within her heart.

Still… something inside her felt hollow.

As days turned into weeks, Benjamina began to step fully into her new role.

She was no longer just a guest.

She was the future Princess of Maria.

Her transformation was swift and precise. Under the guidance of Queen Mother Joana, she learned court etiquette, diplomacy, and the intricate politics of Springland. She attended state meetings, standing beside Prince Louis as nobles and council members debated matters of the kingdom.

She learned when to speak.

When to remain silent.

When to smile.

When to observe.

Soon, she was presented to the world.

Foreign dignitaries arrived from distant lands—presidents, ambassadors, and powerful figures—and Benjamina stood beside her fiancé, welcoming them with grace and poise. Her beauty and composure quickly became the subject of admiration.

“She is perfect for the role,” they would whisper.

“A true princess in the making.”

But perfection, as Benjamina was beginning to understand, often came at the cost of truth.

Because behind closed doors…

There was nothing between her and Louis.

No laughter.

No shared moments.

No warmth.

Only duty.

And distance.

One evening, as they prepared to receive a delegation, Benjamina finally spoke.

“Do you resent this?” she asked quietly.

Louis adjusted his cuffs, not looking at her. “Resent what?”

“This… arrangement.”

He paused, just briefly.

Then, with a controlled voice, he replied, “It is not my place to resent what is required of me.”

Benjamina studied him.

“You don’t love me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Louis finally looked at her.

His gaze was not cruel—but it was honest.

“No,” he said.

The word settled heavily between them.

Benjamina nodded slowly, masking the strange ache that rose within her.

“Then we understand each other,” she said.

Louis gave a slight nod.

“Yes,” he replied.

But what neither of them said…

Was that understanding did not make it easier.

—

There was someone else.

Her name was Anastasia.

She was everything Benjamina was not—at least in Louis’s eyes. Elegant, familiar, and deeply rooted in the noble circles of Springland. Anastasia had grown up within the court, her presence as natural as the palace itself.

And Louis loved her.

That truth was not hidden—it simply wasn’t spoken aloud.

But Benjamina saw it.

The way his expression softened when Anastasia entered a room.

The way his voice changed when he spoke to her.

The way his eyes followed her, even when he tried not to.

It was quiet.

But undeniable.

And Anastasia… returned those feelings.

Their love existed in stolen glances and fleeting moments, bound by a reality neither of them could escape.

Because Louis was engaged.

To Benjamina.

And that made Anastasia something else entirely.

A shadow.

But Anastasia was not alone.

She had a brother.

Timothy.

Unlike his sister, Timothy did not hide his feelings.

He despised Benjamina.

From the very beginning, his hostility was clear. His words were sharp, his tone laced with contempt, and his presence carried an edge that made Benjamina uneasy.

“You don’t belong here,” he told her one afternoon, his voice low but firm.

Benjamina held his gaze, refusing to show fear.

“I believe that is not your decision to make.”

Timothy stepped closer.

“This kingdom has its own bloodline,” he said. “And you are not part of it.”

His words struck deeper than he intended.

But Benjamina remained composed.

“I suggest you remember your place,” she replied coldly.

Timothy smirked.

“My place?” he echoed. “I know exactly where I stand. The question is… do you?”

From that day on, his hostility only grew.

And though Benjamina tried to ignore it, there were moments—quiet, unsettling moments—when his presence felt more like a threat than mere dislike.

Eventually, she turned to the one person she believed she could trust.

Queen Mother Joana.

“He is becoming a problem,” Benjamina admitted one evening, her voice steady but cautious.

Joana listened, her expression unreadable.

“Timothy,” she said thoughtfully. “The loyal brother.”

“He threatens me,” Benjamina added. “Not openly… but enough.”

Joana’s eyes darkened slightly.

“Then he forgets himself,” she said.

Benjamina leaned forward. “What should I do?”

Joana smiled faintly.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Leave him to me.”

There was something in her tone that made Benjamina both reassured…

And uneasy.

—

But amidst the tension, the expectations, and the carefully crafted lies…

Something unexpected happened.

Benjamina found herself drawn to someone she should never have noticed.

A royal guard.

He was not like the others.

Where most guards stood rigid and distant, he carried a quiet strength—an awareness that went beyond duty. He watched not just the surroundings, but the people within them.

His name was not often spoken, but his presence was always felt.

At first, it was nothing.

A glance.

A moment.

A passing exchange of eyes.

But slowly… it became more.

One evening, in the palace gardens, beneath the soft glow of moonlight, they spoke for the first time.

“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he said gently.

Benjamina turned, surprised—but not afraid.

“And yet, I am,” she replied.

There was a pause.

Then, unexpectedly, they both smiled.