Rejected Princess : Engaged to a Missing Man

As consciousness returned, Viella heard the distant sound of Marie's soft humming. It floated through the still air like a lullaby, her small hand gently stroking Viella's hair.

The soothing touch anchored her, offering a fleeting sense of calm amidst the temporary confusion she felt.

As she looked around, Viella almost forgot where she was and why she was there to begin with.

Slowly, the memory of what happened returned—from the beginning of how she had given the potion to the High General, to being drugged and then dragged to this dingy underground prison.

Frantic, Viella tried to sit up, but her body betrayed her. She was weighed down by the aftermath of whatever that man had taken from her.

It felt as though she'd run for miles—muscles stiff, every limb heavy with exhaustion. The fatigue sank deep, yet it couldn't mask the anger simmering beneath the surface.

She had truly believed they had severed their ties, that they were free of each other. But now she understood—it had always been a one-sided delusion.

She couldn't take anything from him if she needed it, but he sure could. With no regard for how it would affect her.

What would have happened if she were in this prison cell with some creepy men?

What would happen if she were at the side of the road?

What would happen if she were in the middle of an important conversation?

Or if she were running for her life?

What then?

"Vie, are you feeling better?" Marie asked, looking down at her face.

"I'm still feeling bad, Marie. It's difficult to move," she admitted.

"You've been in pain for some time," Marie told her. "It doesn't happen often, but after it, you talk in your sleep," she mentioned, then pushed to help her up.

Viella frowned at that. "I did? What did I say? Did you catch anything?"

Marie shook her head, disappointed. "I heard a little, but it was in a different language. Do you know any other language besides Criola?" she asked.

"No. Only Criola," she answered.

"That's strange," Marie replied, leaning back against the wall.

The two girls then sat in silence just as the sound of the metal door swung open and the shadow of a hooded figure stretched on the stone floor before them.

Viella moved closer to the bars of her prison cell, half-dragging herself as she caught a glimpse of the man walking towards them.

He was dressed in a tailored black ensemble that combined rugged practicality with an air of commanding presence.

A heavy, fur-lined black cloak draped over his shoulders, the fabric worn but elegant, whispering of long journeys through harsh terrain.

Beneath it, a fitted leather tunic, crisscrossed with laces, clung to his frame, its surface marked with subtle battle scars.

A man who would have been handsome, if it were not for the scar adorning one side of his face. His eyes, the deep crimson color of sunset, were piercing as he looked into hers.

"So, you are the witch doctor," he said. And just like his presence, his voice was commanding. A heavy voice that was sure and confident.

"I wasn't aware that was what they consider me as. I'm not a witch. I'm also not a doctor," Viella replied, matching his confidence.

He then went down to her level, half-kneeling as he leaned on one knee.

"Legend has it only witch doctors can cure the incurable. If you are not, then what are you?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

Their faces were close, with only metal bars separating them.

"I'm a Mage. Not a witch," Viella answered, although the prickle of doubt in her chest screamed imposter.

If she did receive that education, she really would have been a mage. Albeit an apprentice.

"I've never heard of it," the man replied, though curious.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Viella asked.

She didn't know why, but she had the feeling this man was not from the High Lady of Empire's side. He was someone else who was not supposed to know.

"I am the Crown Prince, Adrian Viargo. The elder brother of Caspian. Now tell me, is it true what I've heard? That my little brother is cured of his illness?" he asked, shocking Viella.

She had not expected to meet the first prince, and if she did, definitely not here.

"I… I don't know," Viella answered. For the first time, the façade she had displayed slipped. "I tried, but the last time I saw him… he wasn't in a good state," Viella recalled.

She leaned against the bars separating them, looking away from the Crown Prince.

She went on, "If he was cured… do you think I'd be here?" she asked.

"The High Lady is as ruthless as she is shrewd. Even if she glimpses her son's recovery, she won't release you until he's fully restored to his former strength," said Adrian, who touched the tips of her black wavy hair. A soft smile touched his inviting lips.

"Unlike me… I would have treated you with care. Not a day would pass without your every need fulfilled—your skin wrapped in the finest silks, your body graced with the sweetest fragrances. But alas, it is a cruel twist of fate that you serve the High Lady instead," he said, looking up from under his thick lashes. The sharpness of his eyes was intense.

"Serve?" Viella asked, pulling away from him. She did not know what world this was, only that suddenly she seemed to meet attractive and yet dangerous men in power. Something she felt from this man especially.

"Is that not true?" he asked coldly.

"I was forced into it," Viella replied, feeling his aura change. "It was a setup. If anything had happened to the Prince, I would have been framed for it," Viella explained. The Crown Prince tilted his head sideways, his eyes gazing to a distant place while he thought to himself.

"So you tried to leave, but she used your sister to force your hand," Crown Prince Adrian said, connecting the dots himself. His gaze moved towards Marie, who had been silently listening to the conversation.

"Exactly," Viella said bitterly. His gaze snapped back at her, a glint of excitement in them followed by the slow bloom of a wicked smile.

"Ah, how tragic. And now you're here, caught in limbo because she doubts whether he's truly well. Waiting for your fate to be decided by someone so ungrateful, while you possess a talent that deserves nothing less than adoration," he said, his masculine voice like honey to her skin, sending blood to her cheeks.

Viella looked down, unable to keep eye contact with his intense gaze.

"Well... I don't know about adoration but definitely not locked in here," Viella said, which warranted a laugh from the Crown Prince. The sound was crisp and warm.

He licked his bottom lip. "Let me speak honestly to you, witch doctor. I like you. And I will give you whatever you like to have your allegiance."

Viella looked over her shoulder, meeting Marie's nervous gaze, before looking back at him. She was sure he had the means to do just that, if he were willing.

However, just as she had walked into a lion's mouth, she might as well walk into a tiger's without knowing.

"I don't know enough to know I am willing to offer it to you," Viella replied, which didn't change his expression in the slightest. He leaned in closer, a look in his eyes sent a warm feeling through her body.

"You know... standing by my side could bring you great fortune. I won't deny it—you're a vision to behold, my dear. Perhaps I could offer you a place in my palace... to share my bed," he said with a low, sensuous whisper.

Viella's lips parted, looking away, feeling his gaze like a touch.

"Your Royal Highness..." Viella started, unsure how to decline without offending him. She swallowed, scrambling for words.

"No need for formalities, dear. Please address me as Prince Adrian," he said.

"Thank you, Prince Adrian. But I... I appreciate your offer, truly, but I must admit that I am still quite unversed in such matters. And, if I'm honest, I have no intention of changing that anytime soon," Viella answered as politely as possible.

She meant to pull away but had her face held between the calloused fingers of the Crown Prince. His eyes examined.

"Then a position of High Lady of Empress would suit you just fine."

"Prince Adrian, I am not yet fully versed in the knowledge. I will not be of as much use to you as you might think I will be. Please, I am unworthy," Viella said, already envisioning a life of treachery and hardship within the palace walls.

Constantly fearing for her life and the lives of her children.

"You were useful enough to summon a rival for the dragon throne," the Crown Prince said, his voice cold and unfeeling. His empty gaze bore into her. "Do you really think, if Caspian survives, that woman would simply let you go? Someone with your talents is far too valuable to vanish into the world, never to be seen again. No... you are as much a prisoner of this place as I am—a cage I was born into."

He leaned closer, his grip tightening on the base of her neck. "I'm offering you a choice. Another path, another player in this wretched game you've ignited. So now... listen carefully."

"Y-yes..." Viella forced out through clenched teeth.

The Crown Prince's expression hardened as his voice dropped to a dangerous calm. "I will give you everything you desire—wealth, power, a life beyond your wildest dreams—if you aid me in securing the upper hand in the Blood Trials. I'll give you time to consider it... but know this."

His gaze sharpened, a cold edge in his words. "If you refuse, I'll have no choice but to eliminate you. Is that understood?"

"Understood," Viella replied, her voice steady despite the tension coursing through her body.

The Crown Prince released his grip, his fingers lingering for a brief moment before he stepped back.

He cast her one final, unreadable glance before turning on his heel and striding away, his footsteps echoing against the cold, stone walls.

Silence enveloped the prison cell as Marie moved closer, settling beside her.

The two girls exchanged a wordless look—a silent conversation of shared fears and unspoken resolve.