The Last Princess

The air was alive with music and laughter as villagers filled the castle grounds, their faces glowing with joy and the promise of a good harvest. Children ran between stalls, their hands sticky with sweets, while families gathered around performers juggling fire and balancing impossibly high on stilts. The festival was everything we had envisioned—lively, warm, and filled with a sense of community. 

I stood by the main square, my gown simple yet elegant, embroidered with golden threads that shimmered in the sunlight. Edmund was nearby, speaking with a group of elders, his smile genuine and his demeanor relaxed. Seeing him like this, so at ease and connected with his people, made my heart swell with pride. 

It felt good to be a part of something, to have a purpose beyond just existing in the shadow of my family. This was the first time I truly felt like a queen, not just a pawn. 

“Your Majesty,” a young girl said, interrupting my thoughts. She held a small bouquet of wildflowers, her cheeks flushed with excitement. 

I knelt down to her level, accepting the flowers with a warm smile. “Thank you, these are beautiful.” 

“They’re for you,” she said shyly. “Mama says you’re the kindest queen we’ve ever had.” 

Her words caught me off guard, and I felt a lump form in my throat. “That’s very sweet of your mama,” I said, my voice soft. “And of you.” 

As the girl ran back to her family, I turned to place the flowers in a vase by one of the nearby tables. It was then that I noticed a familiar figure weaving through the crowd, his presence unmistakable. Taron. 

He was dressed impeccably, as always, his bearing regal and commanding. The sight of him here, unannounced, sent a jolt of unease through me. Why was he here? 

“Victoria,” he called, his voice carrying over the noise of the festival. 

I straightened, smoothing my gown as he approached. “Taron,” I said evenly, masking my surprise. “What brings you here? Again. ” 

“Can’t I check on my sister?” he asked, his tone light but with an edge I recognized all too well. 

“This isn’t your kingdom to oversee,” I replied, forcing a smile. “But you’re welcome to join the festivities.” 

He didn’t respond to my invitation. Instead, his sharp eyes swept over the grounds before settling back on me. “This is… impressive,” he admitted. “I wasn’t sure you had it in you.” 

I bristled at his words, though I tried not to let it show. “Edmund and I worked together to make this happen,” I said. 

Taron raised an eyebrow, his gaze scrutinizing. “And how is married life treating you? Any news yet?” 

The question caught me off guard, but I knew exactly what he meant. “News?” I echoed, feigning ignorance. 

He sighed impatiently, lowering his voice. “Have you conceived yet, Victoria? Surely by now—” 

I cut him off, my voice sharp. “I've told you before and I'm telling you again, it’s not proper for you to ask me such things.” 

He crossed his arms, unbothered by my anger. “You know as well as I do that an heir is the only way to solidify this alliance. Rosemary managed it within three months. Perhaps you should take a lesson from her.” 

His words were like a slap to the face. Anger surged through me, hot and unrelenting. “I am not Rosemary,” I snapped, my voice rising despite the crowd around us. “And I will not be compared to her or anyone else. My marriage is not a timeline for you to dictate.” 

Taron’s expression darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You forget yourself, Victoria,” he said coldly. “Your duty is to secure this alliance, and that means producing an heir. If you cannot—” 

“She can,” a firm voice interrupted. 

I turned to see Edmund striding toward us, his expression a mix of calm and controlled fury. He came to stand beside me, placing a protective hand on my arm. 

“Taron,” he said, his tone polite but laced with steel. “You are no longer in a position to dictate what Victoria does or doesn’t do. She is my queen now, and her duty is to this kingdom, not yours.” 

Taron stiffened, clearly unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a manner. “I’m only looking out for her,” he said, though his tone betrayed his irritation. 

“Are you?” Edmund asked, his gaze unyielding. “Because it seems to me that you’re here to impose your will, not support her. Let me be clear: the alliance stands as long as there is peace between us. But if you continue to harass my wife, I won’t hesitate to rip it apart and defend my kingdom as I see fit.” 

The tension between them was palpable, the air charged with unspoken challenges. I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. 

Taron’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might retaliate. But then he stepped back, his expression cold and unreadable. “Very well,” he said stiffly. “I’ll take my leave.” 

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd. 

I let out a shaky breath, my anger slowly giving way to relief. Edmund turned to me, his expression softening as he searched my face. 

“Are you all right?” he asked gently. 

I nodded, though my emotions were still raw. “Thank you,” I said quietly. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied. “You’re my wife, Victoria. It’s my job to protect you.” 

His words, simple as they were, meant more to me than I could express. For the first time, I felt truly seen—not as a princess, not as a pawn, but as a person. 

As the festival continued around us, Edmund stayed by my side, his presence a steady comfort. Together, we returned to the celebrations, determined not to let Taron’s intrusion ruin what had been a beautiful day. 

And as I looked out at the smiling faces of the villagers, I realized that this was my place now—my home, my people, and my husband. And no one, not even Taron, could take that from me.