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"Imagine the headlines then," he chuckled. "But seriously, Eloise, how are you with all of this?" He gestured vaguely toward the newspaper.
"Terrified," she admitted, setting down the teapot with care. "I never wanted a crown, Bernard. I only ever wanted..." Her voice trailed off, leaving her deepest wishes unspoken.
"Me neither," he confessed, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. "You know what they say, though? Heavy is the head that eats the breakfast crumpets."
"Is that how it goes?" Eloise laughed.
"Close enough," Bernard replied with a shrug. "We'll rewrite the proverbs to suit us. We'll be unconventional rulers, you and I."
"Unconventional," she mused. "I suppose that does have a certain ring to it."
"Rings, crowns, scepters," Bernard listed off, a playful glint in his eye. "All the trappings of royalty, and yet here we are, more concerned with who will walk the corgis."
"Priorities," Eloise affirmed with a mock-serious nod. "And speaking of, we must consider how this changes things for us, not just as monarchs, but as...us."
"Us," he echoed softly. "We've always been a team, haven't we? If anything, I think this will only make us stronger. Though I can't promise I won't accidentally knight someone when trying to butter my toast."
"Please reserve knighting for special occasions," she teased, grateful for the humor that eased the tension between them. "We'll navigate this new chapter together, as we always have. With a bit of grace and a lot of laughter."
"Agreed," Bernard said, lifting his teacup in a mock-toast. "To us, to Allenia, and to unexpected adventures."
"To us," Eloise echoed, clinking her cup against his with a smile that was both brave and vulnerable, as they stepped into the roles history had thrust upon them.
"Bernard," she began, her voice steady despite the churning in her stomach. "I've always known that life could sweep us up into its grand designs, that I might someday wear a crown. But I imagined it would be in Theron, not here."
Bernard's blue eyes met hers, the corners crinkling with a mixture of concern and curiosity. His hand reached out, enveloping hers on the tabletop, offering silent support.
"Eloise," he said. "Wherever you are queen, whether in Theron or Allenia, your grace will illuminate the throne."
"Your humor has always been my anchor, Bernard," Eloise replied. "And if I must be queen, I want it to be by your side. I will stand beside you, through every challenge and triumph."
He squeezed her hand gently, a gesture loaded with gratitude and love.
AS MORNING GAVE WAY to afternoon, Eloise found herself alone in the sanctuary of their private chambers. The gilded mirrors and sumptuous fabrics that adorned the room seemed to mock her inner disquiet. She had been feeling off-kilter for over a month, an uneasiness she couldn't attribute solely to the political maelstrom they'd found themselves in.
Retreating to the marble-clad bathroom, she pulled a small box from the cabinet—an unassuming object that held the power to alter all future expectations. The pregnancy test felt cool and foreign in her trembling hand. With a deep breath, she followed the simple instructions, her heart thundering against her ribcage.
Minutes later, Eloise sat on the edge of the clawfoot tub, staring at the positive result. A complex tapestry of emotions unfurled within her—joy, fear, and an overwhelming sense of inadequacy at the timing. How could she burden Bernard with such news now? He was about to take on the mantle of a nation.
"No," she whispered to her reflection in the mirror. "Not now. He needs to focus on Allenia, on becoming the king he was meant to be." The spark of new life within her would remain her secret. In the meantime, she would muster a smile and the unwavering support Bernard needed.
"Queen and mother-to-be," Eloise mused. "Unconventional indeed."
AMIDST A WHIRLWIND of silken gowns and polished silverware, Eloise watched as the palace transformed into their new abode. The servants, with deft hands and welcoming smiles, flitted through the grand hallways like a well-orchestrated ballet, placing personal effects and familial portraits with ease. Bernard's aunt and uncle, the former occupants of the palace, offered gracious nods as they departed for their estate.
"Eloise," Bernard called to her from where he supervised the arrangement of a particularly ornate tapestry. "Do you think it should be a touch higher?"
Eloise tilted her head, considering the tapestry's new home above the mantelpiece. "Perhaps just a smidgen," she said. "We wouldn't want future generations straining their necks."
"Ah, but think of the posture improvements," he quipped back, his eyes sparkling with mirth as the servants adjusted the tapestry.
The palace, once a distant, gilded cage in Eloise's eyes, slowly began to wrap around her like a warm, albeit majestic, embrace. She took solace in the thought, pushing aside the persistent flutter of trepidation that danced in her stomach.
In the days that followed, the nobility of Allenia paraded through the palace doors, each pledging fealty to King Bernard with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
"Your Majesty," intoned Duke Harrowmont, his voice resonating through the throne room. "I pledge my undying loyalty to your crown and country."
"Thank you, Duke Harrowmont," Bernard replied with practiced grace. "Your support is invaluable to us."
