Updated Nov 20, 2025 • ~9 min read
The border province tour was supposed to be a simple diplomatic visit. Show the future royal couple to the people, inspect trade routes, demonstrate the strength of the Valdorian-Astorian alliance.
Instead, it became the moment everything changed.
Aria and Damien rode together in an open carriage through the eastern provinces, waving to crowds that had gathered to see them. Children tossed flowers. People cheered. It should have been triumphant.
But Aria couldn’t shake the unease that had been building since they left the capital.
“Something’s wrong,” she murmured to Damien.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the fields. Half the crops are failing. And did you see that last village? The buildings are in disrepair, the people look hungry—”
“It’s a farming province. Times are lean sometimes.”
“It’s more than that.” Aria gripped his hand. “Damien, something is seriously wrong here.”
At their next stop—a market town that was supposed to showcase the prosperity of the alliance—Aria insisted on walking among the people instead of just the official reception.
“Your Highness,” the local governor protested. “That’s not on the schedule—”
“Then we’re changing the schedule.” Aria climbed out of the carriage, Damien following with barely concealed amusement.
They walked through the market with their guards trailing at a discreet distance. Up close, the poverty was unmistakable. Stalls with sparse goods. Children in worn clothing. A tension in the air that spoke of desperation.
An old woman caught Aria’s sleeve. “Your Highness, please. The taxes—we can’t pay them. They’re taking everything. My son lost his farm last month, and now—”
A guard moved to intercede, but Aria held up a hand. “Tell me. What taxes?”
The woman glanced nervously at the governor, who stood nearby looking increasingly uncomfortable. “The new levies. For the military alliance. They say it’s to protect us, but we can’t eat protection. We can’t feed our children with promises of security.”
Aria’s blood ran cold. She turned to Damien, who looked equally stunned.
“How much are the levies?” Damien asked the woman.
“Forty percent of our harvest, Your Highness. Plus coin taxes on top of that. We have nothing left.”
Forty percent. The tax reforms Stefan had pushed through. The ones Aria and Damien had fought about at the disastrous state dinner.
“Thank you for telling me,” Aria said gently to the woman. “We’ll look into this.”
As they continued through the market, the same story emerged over and over. Excessive taxation. Farms seized for nonpayment. Families starving while the military grew fat on their labor.
This was why Aria had opposed the reforms. This exact situation.
And Damien had defended them.
Back in the carriage, heading to their lodgings for the night, they sat in tense silence.
“You were right,” Damien said finally. “About the taxes. I was wrong.”
“This isn’t about being right.” Aria stared out at the passing countryside. “People are suffering, Damien. Because of policies we’re supposed to be supporting.”
“I know.” His voice was tight with anger. “My father presented these reforms as necessary for security. He never showed me the actual impact.”
“Or he did and you didn’t ask to see it.”
The barb hit home. Damien flinched. “You’re right. I accepted the military justification without questioning the human cost. That’s on me.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We fix it. We return to the capital and demand the levies be reduced to sustainable levels.”
“Your father will never agree.”
“Then we go around him. Bring it to both courts. Force a public debate.” Damien took her hand. “We have power too, Aria. Maybe not as much as we’ll have after the wedding, but enough to make noise. Enough to demand change.”
She wanted to believe him. But the memory of the state dinner loomed large—of Damien choosing his father’s position over what was right.
“Will you actually stand with me this time?” she asked quietly. “Or will you back down when Stefan pushes back?”
“I’ll stand with you. I promise.”
That night, they stayed at a governor’s manor in the province capital. It was luxurious compared to the poverty they’d witnessed—silk sheets and elaborate meals while people starved miles away.
Aria couldn’t eat dinner. Couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about the old woman’s face. About children in worn clothing. About farmers losing everything to fund a military expansion they never asked for.
Near midnight, unable to bear the weight of it alone, she slipped out of her chambers and went looking for Damien.
She found him in the manor’s study, surrounded by ledgers and reports, still fully dressed despite the late hour.
“Can’t sleep either?” she asked from the doorway.
He looked up, and she saw the same horror in his eyes that she felt. “I’ve been going through the provincial reports. Aria, it’s worse than we thought. Not just here—across all the eastern provinces. The taxation levels are unsustainable. We’re literally bleeding our own people dry.”
She came to stand beside him, looking at the damning numbers. “How did this happen?”
“Unchecked military expansion combined with political indifference.” Damien’s voice was hard. “The governors reported the problems, but those reports went to my father’s advisors. They either didn’t pass them along or Stefan ignored them. Either way, the policies continued unchanged.”
“He had to know. You don’t implement taxes like this without understanding the impact.”
“He knew.” Damien looked up at her. “He knew and did it anyway, because military power mattered more than civilian wellbeing. That’s who my father is, Aria. That’s who he’s been trying to make me.”
The anguish in his voice broke something in her chest. She sat beside him, taking his hand.
“You’re not him,” she said firmly.
“How do you know? I defended these policies. I argued with you about them. Maybe I am exactly like him.”
“No. Because you’re here at midnight, sick over the suffering these policies caused. Your father wouldn’t be. He’d sleep soundly and call it necessary sacrifice.” She squeezed his hand. “You feel it, Damien. That’s the difference. You still have empathy.”
“Empathy doesn’t fix this.”
“No. But action does. And we can take action.”
They spent the rest of the night planning. Going through every report, every number, building an irrefutable case for reducing the tax burden. By dawn, they had a proposal: cut the military levies in half, redirect funds from unnecessary expansion to infrastructure, create emergency aid for families who’d lost farms.
It was sound policy. Fair and sustainable.
It would also directly oppose everything Stefan wanted.
“Are you ready for this fight?” Aria asked as pale light crept through the windows.
“I don’t have a choice. These are our people. Or they will be, once we’re married. We can’t let them suffer for political ambition.”
“Your father will see this as betrayal.”
“Then I betray him.” Damien stood, exhaustion and determination warring in his expression. “My whole life, I’ve done what Stefan wanted. Become what he demanded. But Aria, I can’t keep prioritizing his approval over people’s lives. At some point, I have to choose what’s right over what’s strategic.”
“This will damage your relationship with him.”
“I know. But if I don’t stand up now, I never will. I’ll just keep making excuses, justifying cruelty as necessity, becoming more like him every day until I wake up and realize I’m exactly the cold, ruthless king I was terrified of becoming.”
Aria stood and wrapped her arms around him. He held her tightly, face buried in her hair.
“We do this together,” she said. “United front. No backing down.”
“Together,” he agreed.
They returned to the capital the next day, their carriage loaded with evidence and their minds made up. The final days before the wedding would be spent not in celebration, but in political warfare.
Helena was waiting when Aria returned to her chambers.
“How was the tour?” she asked, then stopped at Aria’s expression. “What happened?”
Aria told her everything. The poverty, the suffering, the decision to oppose Stefan publicly.
“This is going to be ugly,” Helena said when she finished. “The king of Astoria doesn’t take well to being challenged. And doing it days before your wedding—”
“I know. But we can’t wait. People are starving now.”
“Your father will support you. King Aldric has been privately opposed to the military expansion for months. But Stefan has powerful allies.”
“So do we.” Aria thought of the nobles who’d been quietly critical of the tax burden. Of the trade guilds who’d seen their markets contract. Of the people themselves, if someone would just advocate for them. “We can win this, Helena. We just have to be brave enough to fight.”
That night, Damien requested a joint council meeting with both kingdoms’ advisors. The message was clear: this wasn’t just Valdorian concern or Astorian policy. It was a shared issue that required shared solutions.
Stefan was furious.
“You’re undermining me,” he hissed to Damien in a private moment before the council. “In front of the entire court. Days before your wedding. Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m doing what’s right for our people.”
“Our people? You’re not married yet. Valdoria isn’t your concern.”
“It will be in five days. And Damien, the eastern provinces you’re bleeding dry? They’re Astorian lands. Our own people are suffering under your policies.”
Stefan’s face went cold and hard. “You ungrateful, naive boy. I built this kingdom’s strength. I made Astoria powerful enough that Valdoria wanted this alliance. And you’re going to tear it down for what? Peasants who’ll never appreciate the security we provide?”
“For people who deserve better than being treated as resources to exploit.”
“Then you’re a fool. And you’ll fail, just like every idealistic young ruler who put sentiment before strategy.”
“Maybe. But at least I’ll try.”
Stefan stared at him for a long moment. Then, quietly: “You’re no son of mine.”
The words should have hurt. A month ago, they would have destroyed Damien.
Now, he just felt free.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Damien said. “But I’m not sorry for doing what’s right.”
He walked away from his father and toward Aria, who waited at the council chamber doors.
“Ready?” she asked.
“No. But let’s do it anyway.”
They entered the council chamber together, hand in hand, prepared to fight for their people.
It was the first battle of many they’d face as a partnership.
But it was the battle that proved they could face them together.
And win.
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