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"Your Majesty," Bernard began, "we have uncovered truths that weigh heavily upon our hearts."
King Phillip, seated behind an ornate desk that could rival a small ship in grandeur, looked up from a pile of documents, his eyes clouded with weary knowledge. "Proceed," he intoned.
Eloise stepped forward, the rustle of her skirts the only sound in the cavernous room. "The dissidents," she said, "are more entrenched than we feared. Their numbers are vast."
The king's face remained an enigmatic mask as he listened, fingers steepled before him. Her heart thrummed a nervous rhythm, each beat a drumroll for the coming storm.
Bernard unfolded the list they had compiled, his hand steady as he laid it before the king. "And worse yet," he added, "there are names here that will... distress you."
King Phillip picked up the parchment, his gaze scanning the contents. A shadow seemed to pass over his visage, a fleeting moment of sorrow before the regal facade snapped back into place. "My children," he murmured, a whisper that somehow filled the room with its profound grief.
"Indeed, sire," Bernard confirmed, his tone somber. "To varying degrees, all four have been ensnared by this treacherous web."
The air grew thick with unspoken words, the weight of a dynasty teetering on the brink of scandal. Eloise watched as King Phillip rose, his movements slow, deliberate.
"Perhaps," King Phillip said at last, "it is time for the sun to set on my reign." He turned then, the decision etched into the lines of his face, a monarch confronting his own mortality. "Bernard, do you comprehend what this means?"
Bernard met the king's gaze, his shoulders squared against the tide of history rushing toward them. "I do, Your Majesty."
"It means," King Phillip continued, his voice gaining strength, "that you are next in line. You need to be the one to steer this kingdom out of turmoil."
A silence fell over the room. Bernard's nod was barely perceptible, the acceptance of a burden he never sought but was born to bear.
"Then let it be so," King Phillip decreed.
Eloise's heart hammered against her ribcage, a frantic prisoner to the cage of her chest. She stood, stiff and regal beside Bernard, as they absorbed the gravity of King Phillip's words.
"Bernard," she began, "a queen? I am not ready to be a queen. One of the things I like best about you is you were fifth in line to the throne."
Bernard turned to her.. "But Eloise, destiny seldom knocks at convenient times. We must answer nonetheless."
"Destiny be damned," she replied with more force, feeling the bite of humor in her challenge despite the solemnity of their predicament. "I was content to stand by your side as a princess. But queen? It's like asking a peacock to pull a plow!"
A brief smile flickered across Bernard's lips. "You underestimate yourself. And underestimate the strength of peacocks, it seems."
"Strength or not," Eloise countered, her gaze steady upon him, "it is one thing to wear a crown in theory, quite another to bear the weight of it upon one's head."
"Then we shall bear it together," Bernard said, reaching for her hand. His touch was both reassuring and a tether to the reality they could no longer avoid.
As they exited the palace, the heavy doors closing behind them with a thud, Eloise couldn't help but feel as if she were stepping through the looking glass. The marble steps, usually so solid underfoot, now seemed to wobble like the deck of a ship caught in a tempest.
The air outside was brisk. They walked in silence, their thoughts a tangled maze that mirrored the intricate patterns of the royal gardens to their right.
"Whatever is to come," Bernard finally broke the silence, "we will face it as we have everything else—united."
"United, yes," Eloise agreed. "But at what cost?"
The morning sun streamed through the delicate lace curtains, casting golden patterns on the breakfast table where Eloise and Bernard sat opposite each other. Eloise reached for the silver teapot, her hand hesitating in mid-air as the butler placed the morning newspaper beside Bernard's plate with a respectful incline of his head.
BERNARD PICKED UP THE newspaper that was beside his plate at breakfast the following morning. The headline was emblazoned across the front page in bold, unforgiving type: "King Phillip Abdicates—Prince Bernard Ascends as Allenia’s Sovereign." His eyes scanned the article rapidly.
"Queen Eloise," the title loomed in print beside his image, and Eloise felt a flutter in her stomach. Finding out she was going to be queen shouldn’t make her queasy, should it?
"Does it seem real to you yet?" she asked, pouring the tea with a hand that betrayed no tremor.
"About as real as a dragon waltzing into the ballroom," Bernard quipped. He couldn’t seem to look away from the headline.
"Perhaps we should train one for your coronation," Eloise suggested, her voice light. "It would give the tabloids something to talk about other than our sudden ascent."
