Swapped At Birth, Married By Fate

The priest’s voice echoes. “Do you, Celeste, take Prince Cassian as your lawfully wedded husband?”

I hesitate. Just for a second.

Then I remember why I’m here; my family, their debt, the queen’s promise. My gaze flickers to Queen Morgana, seated like a marquin on a chessboard, watching me with a victorious gleam in her eyes.

I inhale. “I do.”

The priest turns to Cassian. “Do you, Prince Cassian, take Celeste as your lawfully wedded wife?”

A pause. A muscle ticks in his jaw. His fingers twitch against mine.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he speaks.

“I do.”

Relief. Finality.

The priest seals our fate. Cassian leans in, pressing the barest kiss against my lips; brief, cold, impersonal. The crowd erupts in applause.

It’s done.

I glance at the queen as she smiles. She has won.

And somehow, I know, this is only the beginning.

I wait.

Today should be the happiest day of my life. A girl’s sweetest dream.

The palace hall glows under chandeliers, thousands of white roses scents the air. My gown, lace and diamonds, with an impossibly long veil, should make me feel like a princess. But I don’t feel like one.

I feel nothing.

My fingers tighten around the bouquet as I walk down the hall with my new husband, Prince Cassian, heir to the throne. Regal. Handsome. And utterly indifferent.

He doesn’t look at me.

His jaw is tight, his hand clenched at his side. Everything about him spells resentment.

That makes two of us.

The reception is over, the guests gone, the music fades into silence.

No one has mentioned a honeymoon. Not Cassian. Not the queen. Not a single person.

I sit at the edge of my massive bed, still in my wedding dress, staring at the untouched space beside me. The palace staff had prepared everything; soft candlelight, silk sheets, and rose petals scattered like a scene from a love story.

Except there is no love here.

The silence stretches.

I finally stand, my body aching from exhaustion, and move to the vanity. I take off my veil, watching myself in the mirror. The tiara glimmers under the lights, but I don’t feel like a princess.

I should prepare.

For what, I don’t know.

Slipping into a silk nightgown, I pull my hair loose, letting it cascade down my back. Then I sit again. And I wait.

The silence in my room is suffocating.

I sit there for what feels like hours, staring at the untouched side of the bed, waiting for something, anything. But Cassian never comes.

At some point, the stillness becomes unbearable. I can’t just sit here like a fool.

Wrapping my silk robe tighter around me, I slip out of my chambers and into the vast, dimly lit corridors of the palace.

The walls are lined with towering paintings of past rulers; stern faces with cold, lifeless eyes watching my every move.

I pass grand sitting rooms, empty banquet halls, and balconies overlooking the sprawling palace grounds. Everything is breathtaking. Perfect. But soulless.

No sign of my husband. No sign of anyone.

The palace is too quiet.

My parents had warned me that royal life would be different, that I would need to learn how to move in this world. But they never told me how lonely it would feel.

A sudden noise makes me freeze.

A hushed whisper. Then a giggle.

I turn my head sharply, following the sound down a corridor. My pulse quickens as I approach the slightly ajar doors of a lavish sitting room.

Inside, two noblewomen, dressed in shimmering evening gowns, lounge on velvet sofas, sipping from crystal glasses. Their conversation is low, but I hear just enough.

“Poor thing, she really thought there’d be a honeymoon.”

A soft chuckle.

“She’s not the first girl to be married off for convenience, and she won’t be the last.”

Heat creeps up my neck, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.

“She looked so beautiful and hopeful at the reception,” one of them continues. “Like a naive little lamb.”

Another laugh. “She’ll learn.”

I don’t wait to hear more.

Turning sharply, I walk away, my heart pounding with something I can’t name.

Anger? Humiliation?

Maybe both.

I don’t stop until I reach my quarters again, closing the doors behind me.

I’m supposed to be a princess now. A queen in the making.

But tonight, I feel like nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s game.

I returned to my room and wait.

Minutes turn into an hour.

Then two.

Then three.

But Cassian never comes.

At some point, exhaustion wins, and I sink into the bed, curling under the heavy covers. My last thought before sleep takes me is a bitter one.

My husband didn’t even bother to look at me today.

At an unholy hour, comes a noise.

Distant. Muffled.

I stir, blinking against the moon light streaming through the tall windows. My body feels heavy with sleep, my mind slow to catch up.

Then I hear it again.

A loud thud. A deep, slurred voice. Laughter.

Frowning, I push off the covers and slip out of bed. My silk robe pools around me as I step barefoot across the cold marble floors, following the sounds.

The palace halls are eerily quiet this hour, but the noise grows louder as I reach a corridor near my quarters.

Another thud. A grunt.

I round the corner and stop.

Cassian.

He’s stumbling through the entrance to his private wing, barely keeping himself upright. His suit from last night is undone, the jacket missing, his crisp white shirt wrinkled and half-buttoned. A dark stain; wine maybe, spreads across his chest.

He looks wrecked.

Drunk.

Very, very drunk.

A butler and two guards hover nearby, clearly unsure of what to do. Cassian mutters something incoherent, waving them off before staggering forward.

He doesn’t see me.

Not until he nearly crashes into me.

His dark eyes, hazy and unfocused, land on mine. He blinks slowly, tilting his head like he’s trying to process why I’m standing here in front of him.

Then..

He smirks.

“Ah,” he murmurs, voice rough from whatever he’s been drinking all night. “The wife.”

The word drips with amusement.

Mocking.

Like this is all some big joke to him.

I open my mouth to say what, I don’t know. But before I can make a sound, Cassian steps closer, his scent; whiskey, smoke, and something dark, wrapping around me.

Then, in one slow, calculated motion, he leans in, lips brushing just past my ear.

“You should get used to sleeping alone,” he whispers. “It’s going to be a long marriage.”

My breath catches.

Before I can react, he pulls back, shoving past me with a careless chuckle.

And just like that, my husband disappears into his chambers, the heavy doors slamming shut behind him. I stand there, frozen, my heart hammering in my chest. The silence that follows is deafening, pressing against my ears like a storm about to break.

Something isn’t right.

A strange chill creeps down my spine.

Then… a crash echoes from inside his chambers.

I gasp, my breath hitching.

What just happened?