Dark Moon: Rise of The Dark King

Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 355. Remnants of The Past

She looped her arm through his, a small smile playing on her lips. "Ready as I'll ever be."

They walked out of the room together. The hallways were alive with movement, attendants bowing as they passed, the faint strains of ceremonial music growing louder with every step.

Angel glanced at Rose out of the corner of his eye, watching the way she held her head high, her steps steady despite the weight of her gown and the pressure of the moment. She was nervous—he could feel it—but she didn't let it show. And that, more than anything, reassured him that she was ready.

The throne room loomed ahead, its massive doors carved with intricate designs that spoke of generations of rulers before her. Rose tightened her grip on Angel's arm, her fingers brushing against his in a silent gesture of gratitude.

"You'll be fine," he murmured one last time, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "And I'll be right there if you need me."

She nodded, her gaze fixed ahead. "I know."

Inside the hall was alive with the low hum of anticipation. Guests from across the kingdoms had gathered, each representing alliances, ambitions, or old rivalries hidden beneath polished smiles. The coronation ceremony hadn't begun yet, but its significance was thick in the air. Among the sea of nobility dressed in their finest, one figure stood apart—not because of his attire but because of the storm quietly brewing behind his eyes.

Prince Artheur of Draconis sat near the front, his posture was straight and regal, his face an unreadable mask. His blue-embroidered tunic and cape marked his status, but the way he gripped the armrest of his chair gave away his inner turmoil. He had always been good at maintaining composure, at playing the part of the dutiful prince, but today… today was different.

He hadn't seen Rose since their last meeting in Asteria. Back then, he'd convinced himself he could let go—that he could bury the feelings he had for her and move on. It wasn't just noble; it was necessary. Their engagement had been broken, her heart clearly belonging to another. And as painful as it was, Artheur had accepted that she was happy with Angel. It was the right thing to do.

But knowing something was right didn't make it hurt any less.

He shifted slightly in his seat, his gaze flicking to the grand doors that would soon open to reveal her. Rose. She had captivated him from the moment they met—a whirlwind of grace, strength, and quiet warmth that had drawn him in before he even realized it. He had thought their engagement was fate, a promise of a future together. Instead, it had been a cruel illusion.

The buzz of conversation around him felt distant, almost muted, as if the hall itself were conspiring to remind him of what he had lost. Representatives from other kingdoms sat nearby, their voices mingling in polite chatter about alliances and trade agreements. Artheur didn't join in. His mind was elsewhere—on the woman he loved and the man who had won her heart.

"Prince Artheur," came a soft voice beside him, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to see Duchess Lenara, a sharp-eyed noblewoman who rarely let a political opportunity slip by. Her smile was polite, but her curiosity was clear. "You've been rather quiet this morning. Is everything alright?"

He forced a faint smile, inclining his head slightly. "I'm fine, Duchess. Just… reflecting on the significance of the day."

"A momentous occasion, isn't it?" she mused, her tone lightly probing. "Queen Rose will no doubt bring a new era of stability. A true asset to the kingdom—and, I hear, a formidable ally to her husband."

Her words were innocent enough, but they struck a nerve. Artheur's grip on the armrest tightened imperceptibly. "Indeed," he said evenly. "Her strength and wisdom are unmatched. She's exactly what the kingdom needs."

Lenara studied him for a moment, her sharp gaze catching the tension he was trying to hide. "You must be proud to see her rise to this occasion," she said finally, her tone carefully neutral.

He inclined his head again, offering a tight-lipped smile before turning his attention back to the doors. Lenara didn't press further, sensing that whatever turmoil lay beneath his calm exterior wasn't hers to pry into. She shifted her focus to another noble, leaving Artheur to his thoughts.

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