Updated Nov 20, 2025 • ~10 min read
Two days before the wedding, Aria woke to chaos.
“Up, now, we have seventeen different crises and it’s not even breakfast yet,” Helena announced, throwing open the curtains.
Aria groaned. “What kind of crises?”
“The flowers are wrong, three visiting dignitaries have dietary restrictions no one bothered to note, the ceremonial crown you’re supposed to wear has gone missing, and oh—King Stefan’s chief advisor is spreading rumors that you’ve bewitched Prince Damien and the marriage should be annulled.”
Aria sat up. “He’s what?”
“Apparently your radical ideas about fair taxation constitute witchcraft.” Helena was already laying out clothes. “Your father is handling it, but you and Prince Damien need to make a public appearance. Show a united front. Smile for the masses.”
“It’s not even seven in the morning.”
“Welcome to being a princess two days before her wedding. It only gets worse from here.”
The day was exactly as chaotic as Helena promised. Aria rushed from one wedding emergency to another—soothing a panicked seamstress, approving last-minute menu changes, sitting for what felt like her hundredth portrait session.
She barely saw Damien. Caught glimpses of him across crowded rooms, harried and exhausted, dealing with his own set of disasters.
Finally, late afternoon, they managed to steal a moment together in the garden.
“Is it too late to elope?” Damien asked, collapsing onto a bench.
Aria laughed and sat beside him. “Definitely too late. We’d have both kingdoms hunting us down.”
“Worth it though. Can you imagine? Just us, somewhere no one knows who we are, no ceremonies or politics or fathers spreading rumors about witchcraft—”
“You heard about that?”
“Everyone’s heard about it. Lucian thinks it’s hilarious. I think it’s treason.” Damien rubbed his face tiredly. “Two more days of this.”
“One wedding. Then we can hide in our chambers for a week.”
“Is that allowed?”
“I’m making it allowed. I’m going to be queen. I can decree hiding time.”
He smiled and pulled her closer, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. They sat in the garden surrounded by the chaos of wedding preparations, stealing a few moments of peace.
“I’ve missed you,” Aria said quietly. “We’ve been in the same palace all day and I’ve barely seen you.”
“I know. This is what I was afraid of—that once we’re actually married, we’ll be so busy with obligations that we’ll lose this. Us. Just being together.”
“We won’t let that happen.”
“How? Aria, look at today. We couldn’t manage five minutes alone. How is it going to be better when we’re actually ruling?”
She heard the fear beneath the exhaustion. He was terrified of becoming his father—lost to duty, unable to maintain human connections.
“We make it a priority,” Aria said. “Every day, no matter what’s happening, we find time. Even if it’s just this—sitting together in a garden, not talking about anything important. We protect that time like it’s sacred.”
“What if we can’t? What if the demands are too great?”
“Then we fail and try again the next day. But Damien, we don’t give up. We don’t let duty consume us so completely that we forget why we’re doing this in the first place.”
He turned to look at her, and the vulnerability in his eyes made her chest ache. “I don’t want to lose you. Not to politics or pressure or the weight of crowns. I don’t want us to become one of those royal couples who barely speak, who’ve forgotten how to be anything but cordial strangers.”
“We won’t. I won’t let us.” She cupped his face. “You’re not your father, Damien. You feel too much, care too much. That’s your strength, not your weakness.”
“He’d say it’s both.”
“He’s wrong.”
The late afternoon sun slanted through the garden, painting everything gold. In two days, they’d stand in front of both kingdoms and pledge their lives to each other. The magnitude of it hit Aria like a wave—permanent, irrevocable, binding.
“Are you having second thoughts?” Damien asked quietly.
“No. Are you?”
“No. But I’m terrified I’m going to fail you. That I’ll be a terrible husband, or a weak king, or I’ll make the wrong choices and you’ll regret choosing me.”
“Damien.” She made him look at her. “I’m terrified too. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you, or that I’m not strong enough for this, or that we’re building something beautiful that reality will destroy. But I’d rather try with you and fail than succeed with anyone else.”
“Even if it breaks us?”
“We won’t let it break us.”
He kissed her then—soft and desperate and full of all the fears they couldn’t voice. When they broke apart, both were breathing hard.
“Two more days,” he murmured against her lips.
“Then forever.”
“Forever,” he agreed.
They were interrupted by Helena’s pointed cough from the garden path. “As much as I hate to intrude on this moment, you’re both needed for the rehearsal. The priests are waiting.”
Reality intruded as always. Aria and Damien stood, hands linked, and followed Helena back into the chaos.
The wedding rehearsal was exactly as tedious as Aria feared. They walked through the ceremony a dozen times, practiced the formal vows, learned where to stand and when to bow. Every movement choreographed, every word scripted.
It felt nothing like the spontaneous magic of the masquerade.
But when Damien took her hands for the practice vows, when his eyes met hers and he spoke the words promising partnership and fidelity, Aria felt the magic anyway.
Because this was real. This was choosing each other deliberately, in front of everyone who mattered.
After the rehearsal came the formal pre-wedding dinner. Both courts assembled in the great hall, nobility from across the kingdoms filling the tables. Aria and Damien sat at the high table, the perfect picture of royal propriety.
Under the table, their hands were linked so tightly her fingers went numb.
“You look beautiful,” Damien murmured during a lull in conversation.
“You’ve seen me in formal gowns dozens of times.”
“Doesn’t make it less true. Tomorrow you’ll wear white and a crown, and I’ll probably forget how to speak.”
“That would make the vows awkward.”
“Worth it to just stare at you instead.”
She laughed, and across the table, Stefan’s expression darkened. He’d been cold and distant all evening, making no secret of his continued disapproval.
Let him disapprove. In two days, his opinion would matter even less than it did now.
The dinner stretched long into the night. Toasts were made, speeches delivered. Aria smiled through all of it, playing her part perfectly.
But she counted down the minutes until she could escape.
Finally, near midnight, propriety allowed them to retire. Aria practically fled to her chambers with Helena.
“Last night before everything changes,” Helena said as she helped Aria out of the formal gown. “How are you feeling?”
“Excited. Terrified. Like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff about to jump.”
“Good terrified or bad terrified?”
“Both. All of it.” Aria caught Helena’s hands. “What if we fail, Helena? What if love isn’t enough?”
“Then you’ll have tried. That’s more than most people get in arranged marriages—a real chance at partnership.” Helena smiled. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’ll fail. I’ve never seen two people fight harder for each other.”
That night, Aria stood at her window looking out at the darkened gardens. Tomorrow was the ceremony. Tomorrow, her life changed forever.
She thought about the girl who’d snuck out to the masquerade ball, desperate for one night of freedom. That girl had been so afraid of losing herself to duty.
Now, standing on the edge of marriage, Aria realized something: she hadn’t lost herself. She’d found herself in partnership with someone who saw her completely and loved what he found.
A knock sounded at her door. Helena answered it, then turned with raised eyebrows.
“The prince is here. Says he needs to see you.”
They weren’t supposed to see each other after the dinner. Tradition dictated they spend the night before the wedding apart.
“Send him in,” Aria said.
Damien entered, still in his formal clothes, hair disheveled from running his hands through it. He looked as wrecked as she felt.
“I know it’s bad luck,” he said without preamble. “Seeing each other before the wedding. But I couldn’t—I needed—”
“I’m glad you came.”
They stood staring at each other. Helena quietly excused herself.
“I’ve been pacing my chambers for an hour,” Damien said. “Tomorrow we get married, and suddenly I couldn’t remember if I’d told you—” He stopped, started again. “Aria, I love you.”
The words hung in the air between them. The first time he’d said them directly, without deflection or humor to soften the vulnerability.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
He crossed the room in three strides and pulled her into his arms. They held each other tightly, no distance between them.
“I love how you challenge me,” Damien said against her hair. “How you make me question everything I’ve been taught. How you’re brave enough to fight for what’s right even when it’s hard. How you see me—really see me—past the crown and the training and all the armor I’ve worn for so long. I love all of it. I love you.”
Aria pulled back enough to see his face. “I love that you write terrible poetry. That you quote Marcellus when you’re nervous. That you’re trying so hard to be different from your father. That you make me feel seen and valued and like I matter beyond my title.” She touched his cheek gently. “I love you, Damien. The strategist and the poet. The prince and the man. All of you.”
They kissed, and it felt like a vow more binding than tomorrow’s ceremony. When they finally broke apart, both were crying a little.
“Tomorrow,” Damien said, thumbs wiping away her tears. “Tomorrow I promise you everything. In front of both kingdoms, in front of everyone who doubted us—I promise you partnership and love and everything I am.”
“Tomorrow I promise you the same.”
“No regrets?”
“Not one. You?”
“Only that I didn’t find you sooner.”
They talked until near dawn, curled together on the window seat, sharing fears and dreams and promises. Helena found them there when she came to wake Aria, both fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
“You two are going to give me gray hair,” she muttered, but she was smiling.
Damien woke, disoriented. “What time—”
“Time for you to get back to your chambers before anyone sees you,” Helena said. “Bad luck, remember?”
“Worth it,” he said, kissing Aria once more before leaving.
After he left, Aria stood at the window watching the sunrise. Her wedding day. The day that would change everything.
“Ready?” Helena asked.
Aria thought about the masquerade ball, the garden, the library conversations and stolen kisses and fights they’d navigated. She thought about Damien’s poetry and his vulnerability and the way he looked at her like she hung the moon.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m ready.”
And she was.
Ready to jump off the cliff.
Ready to choose love in an arranged marriage.
Ready to build a partnership that would change kingdoms.
Ready for forever.
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