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"Love is a surprising thing," she spoke into the mirror, half expecting the woman staring back to offer counsel. "Yet here I am, trying to coax it into a cage of convenience."
"Perhaps," she continued, "the respect we hold for one another can turn into mutual love and passion. At least I hope it can."
"Bernard deserves a chance to prove himself," she decided, her gaze lifting to meet the challenge in her own eyes. "And Theron deserves the chance to heal."
"Let us court, then," Eloise resolved, the words unfurling with new-found determination.
She imagined the ballroom, ablaze with light. Bernard would be there, a suitor amongst shadows. Would he move with the grace of sincerity or the stiffness of obligation?
"Show me, Bernard," she whispered, "that we can have true feelings for one another."
Eloise traversed the length of the opulent corridor, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. The walls, adorned with portraits of regal ancestors, seemed to observe her with a mixture of curiosity and quiet encouragement. She paused before the grand doors leading to her parents' private chamber, gathering the tendrils of courage that fluttered within her chest.
"May I enter?" she inquired.
"Of course, my dear," replied Queen Beatrice from within.
The doors creaked open, revealing King Albert and Queen Beatrice seated amidst a sea of documents. They looked up, their expressions softening at the sight of their only daughter.
"Mother, Father," Eloise began, her heart drumming a staccato rhythm against her ribcage, "I have given much thought to the proposal of alliance with Allenia."
King Albert's eyes searched his daughter's face. "And what do you think, Eloise? Will you accept Prince Bernard's proposal?"
"In part. I am prepared to allow him the chance to prove himself worthy by entering into a courtship with him," Eloise said. "But I will make sure he knows my consent to court does not guarantee a march down the aisle."
Queen Beatrice chuckled. "My dearest, you have your father's intelligence and my flair for the dramatic. Proceed with care—I do not want to see your heart broken."
"I don’t want that either," Eloise agreed, her lips curving into a smile. "Don’t worry. I’ll be very careful, and I know that even if I decide not to marry him, my family will still support me."
Having received the approval of both her parents, Eloise retreated, feeling that she was doing the right thing with full familial support.
The evening air was scented with the fragrance of jasmine as Eloise made her way through the royal gardens.
She found Bernard waiting by the fountain. He stood tall, the lines of his figure etched against the darkening sky.
"Bernard," Eloise greeted, her approach heralded by the rustle of her gown against the manicured hedges.
"Princess Eloise," he responded, turning toward her with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. "Have you reached a decision?"
"I have," Eloise affirmed, her gaze steady. "I shall grant you the opportunity to court me but understand this is a test of compatibility and character. As much as I love my country, I will not marry a man I do not see myself developing feelings for."
"Then let the courtship begin," he said, his voice tinged with the thrill of the challenge.
"I pray for our kingdoms’ sakes that we are truly compatible," Eloise said.
Prince Bernard's footsteps echoed on the stone path as he paced back and forth in the royal garden, his mind swirling with plans and possibilities. He had been granted the chance to court Princess Eloise, an opportunity he was thrilled about. He had developed feelings for Eloise over the years, and he was ready to begin their courtship. Yet beneath this elation lay a mess of nerves. He was eager to impress her but uncertain how to ensure his actions would be met with favor.
"Think, Bernard," he muttered to himself. "She's not one for empty flattery or grandiose gestures...she seeks a depth of character, a sincerity of action." He’d had a few casual relationships, but in the back of his mind, he’d always known that Eloise was the woman his heart desired.
A gentle chuckle escaped him as he remembered the princess's words, leaving no doubt that her heart would not be easily won. It was this very challenge that thrilled him. He’d known the princess for years, and he would be able to find just the right way to woo her. He had to!
"Perhaps," he mused aloud, "it is not about wowing her but showing her the truth of my intentions." He plucked a tulip, its petals soft against his calloused fingers—a contrast similar to the two parts of himself, the prince and the man, both seeking to be seen and understood.
"Ah, but the ball!" His eyes gleamed with sudden inspiration. "The ball shall allow me to show her my feelings without words. I can dance with her, and spend all my time with her without raising any eyebrows. I’m certain our courtship will be obvious after a night of us together, but that’s all right. I no longer have to hide from her how I feel."
Bernard resumed his pacing, this time with purposeful strides. He envisaged the dance, the way he would invite her into his arms with respectful reverence—no rush, no presumption, only the silent promise of partnership. He pictured their conversation, a delicate dance of intellect and humor that would surely enthrall her.
"That will work," he said to the evening air, "tonight shall be but a prelude to our relationship, and I cannot wait for it to start."
