The title for the Crown Prince/ss or the Heir of Angletonia; . In England it's like "Prince/ss of Wales". The title currently belongs to Junior.

(Italics are for flashbacks.)

.·。.·゜·༺♥༻ ·゜·。.

Later that day, Cal rode home in a great mood. He had left the delightfully dishevelled Olivia behind a ruined statue of a mythical southern god; taking satisfaction from the fact that it'd take some time for her to recondition herself and ride home.

Such a pleasant afternoon.

"Nice job, Cadence!" He lightly ruffled his horse's shiny ginger mane before they continued to gallop home, along the flowery field that was still lightly touched by snow. He was feeling wonderful today and he intended to make the most of it.

As he marched towards the palace complex, he suddenly heard the sound of a fight. As he approached the source of the noise he saw what appeared to be a young girl being harassed by a drunk.

"Let go of me!" She struggled to pull the end of her cloak out of the man's grasp. She waved her hand in the air. "I'm going to hurt you, I mean it!"

The drunk cackled as she attempted to strike him with an empty-hand. "Why so mad? I've just agreed to cover for ya! Yer gonna be dead once I told 'em bout the wicked thin's ya did in the woods! Now be a nice lil' lass an' show a gentleman some gratitude!"

The scene itself made Cal's blood boil and he rushed his horse to the spot.

"Anyone who lays a hand on a lady has no right to call himself a gentleman!" He growled in fury, causing the two to snap their heads up in his direction.

The girl raised her head up to look at him, but Cal couldn't see her face clearly past the hood of the big cloak she wore, though she was visibly squinting her eyes from the sun behind his head.

"Are you alright, Miss? Shall I beat this loser up for you?"

"Shu' up, pretty boy. If ya seen some heinous thin's she did, ya'll agree that this freak deserves some poundin'!" The man lunged at her once more and Cal quickly hopped down from his horse to put himself between them before delivering a couple of good blows to his face. The man tried to fight back, but he was drunk and he was no match for Cal.

"To hell with ya!" he scampered off into the field, defeated.

Only when they were left alone could Cal finally take a good look at the person he had rescued. Or at least her clothes, as her face was still hidden. She was wearing a striking, blood-red dress under her big, dark cloak; though in some parts the crimson shade of her skirt was fading, it didn't look like a peasant's dress. In fact, it looked like something the aristocrats in the nineteenth-century would wear.

She stood still in the same spot, unflinching.

He extended his hand. "Are you okay?" She tilted her head, but it was hard to guess her emotions with most of her face hidden under the shadow of her hood. "It's alright, I am not going to hurt you."

"...No, you won't." She muttered in a small but a steady voice. There was a slight accent in her voice, but he couldn't figure out which language did it come from. "You just saved me. Thank you."

Cal gave her a kind smile, ignoring that nagging feeling that something seemed off with her. He had just saved a lady, how bad could it be? "If you want, I can give you a ride home. Where are you staying?"

"Someplace near the palace," she answered. "I forget what it's called."

"What a coincidence because that's also where I'm staying," he replied lightheartedly. She must be the family of a tenant farmer which made her shyness understandable for a country girl. "I can get you to that place, what do you say?"

This time, she nodded compliantly, not refusing his aid as he offered his hand to help her climb on a tree stump to mount the horse.

"I'm sorry about what happened. You see, there aren't many girls like you here," he explained, trying to find a softer way to point out her strangeness. "And the colour that you wear is very noticeable by day."

"I can imagine not," she replied calmly. "Do you think I should change my dress?"

"No, of course not," he corrected, not wanting to give an impression that he was judging her. "I really like your dress."

She stayed oddly quiet during the rest of the ride, and Cal began to wonder if they were wandering pointlessly before she pointed at a lake located near the eastern palace; where royal guests would stay. Maybe she was a guest's maid?

"You can drop me here," she said suddenly.

"Be careful!" He warned as she hurriedly climbed down, but she landed smoothly upon the flat rocks beneath them, holding onto his arm for balance.

"I'm fine so you can go now," she noted, and Cal took it as a cue to leave.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss—" He stopped, just realizing he had not caught a name. "...Have a good day." He took off his hat to salute her before riding home.

Regrettably, the encounter with the strange village girl wasn't strong enough to stick in his mind as he was quick to forget about it when he got home, seeing his mother discussing some matters with the palace housekeeper.

"Non, la teinte doit être taupe et non beige." Estelle commented as she examined a set of linen napkins.

"Looking good, Maman," He bent down and landed a kiss on her cheek.

"Oh, mon chou!I'm almost finished with the preparations for tonight's banquet. I've got a new suit tailored for you, and I was thinking that you could try it once you're back."

Cal huffed as he threw himself onto the nearby couch. "Must I attend the banquet? I've already made plans with Olivia tonight, and you told me that a man should honour his commitments," he argued skillfully.

"But you are the Prince of Emraullt and she is to be your wife; it would be better if you and Olivia could attend together."

"Please? I've always been present at every other event Father told me to attend. Why would it matter if I pass this one? You know how senior nobles are, they're just plain boring."

Estelle smiled patiently. "When you're Emperor, you'll be obliged to attend every single thing filled with these old, boring people."

"When I'm Emperor, I am not going to hold any of these dull, repetitive gatherings. My court shall be filled with jubilees, festivities and merrymaking."

Estelle sat down before him. "That's a tremendous idea. Maybe if you could bring just a chunk of that energy tonight, making it livelier?"

"Maybe I would if Father had allowed me to invite one of my friends," he protested, folding his arms across his chest. He even had to celebrate his birthdays in La Casaserpia; away from the palace. His father had deemed those celebrations an act of debauchery.

"I couldn't help expressing my criticism on your choice of friends, Cal." Callisto suddenly stepped into the lounge. "Particularly that one theatre boy. The last time he was photographed he was painting his face and dressing like a woman. What's his name again, Oliver?"

Cal rolled his eyes. "Oscar. You'd be surprised to find out that he's engaged to be married to the granddaughter of the Baroness Fairmont, Father. Even some nobles have grown to appreciate art, you see."

"I'll see you at the banquet tonight and that's final. It'll prove if is truly committed to the responsibilities of an imperial consort." Shooting him an unflinching stare, Callisto left him alone, frustrated.

As night fell, Cal had no choice but to take Olivia to attend the banquet. Since he didn't enter together with his parents, they gathered down the hall along with the other guests. He secretly took pleasure in the fact that he had one of the most beautiful women in Angletonia linked to his arm.

Olivia was a rare beauty, a gem that would never been unearthed had her father never made that breakthrough in his business six to seven years ago, raising their status in society. Debuting at the age of seventeen, she had become a sensation among the Angletonian upper-class, exceeding the women born from old aristocratic families.

For some indefinite reasons, she turned down every single marriage proposals from her suitors, earning her the title of the 'Icy Blonde'. Only with Cal did the ice finally melt. It was expected; he was the heir of the Empire, and ridiculously handsome. They were perfectly matched, like two pieces of puzzle destined to find one another.

"I can't wait to see you in a wedding dress," Cal praised as he stared down at the ivory drop-waist dress that flawlessly clung to her slender body.

"They're still working on it," Olivia simpered, her embellished sequin headpiece shimmering under the light. "It'll be the most spectacular wedding dress ever worn by a princess. You have to be patient."

"Can't you give me just... a little peek?" he tilted his head, gazing at her pleadingly under his lashes. It had always worked.

"It won't be a surprise if you see it now!" she giggled.

"Then I'll have a look and act surprised again later," he winked.

"Oh, my love," Circling her arms around his neck, she tilted her head up to kiss him. "You are... unbelievable."

"Your highness," a courteous female voice suddenly intruded, forcing them to break apart. "Would you care to taste a canapé?"

Cal turned to see a young maidservant offering them a tray of hors d'oeuvres; staring up at them with a pair of dark, doe eyes.

"Why not?" He let his hand hover over the tray for a moment before looking at her. "Which one do you like?"

Receiving his full stare, the maidservant blushed deeply. She replied coyly; "Me, Your Highness? I like Vol-au-vent. It has a creamy, savoury filling."

"I'll take that one." Cal grinned before taking one of the appetizers off the tray. Faintly, he could feel his fianceé eyeing him sourly.

"A great choice, Your Highness." She turned to Olivia. "And you, Miss?"

Olivia plucked the food out of his fingers and dropped it back on the tray. "Don't you have dirty dishes to clean in the kitchen?"

The maid looked disheartened and left.

Cal dragged her to a secluded corner in the hall. "Was that really necessary?"

"She was flirting with you, and you were compliant," Olivia ranted.

Cal shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. "She's working, and I was just being friendly. You know how people from our class would treat the working class, don't become one of them!"

"People from your class, you mean? Even now, people are still excluding me from their circles." She gripped her skirt, pursing her lips. "Do you think she's beautiful?"

Cal sighed, exasperated. "Olivia, there are going to be a lot of maidservants in the palace whom I interact with daily. I cannot have you being jealous of every single one of them." Propping her chin up with a finger, he softened his gaze at her. "And I would never exclude you, which is why I asked you to be my wife."

Olivia tilted her head away from his hand, shedding a tear.

Taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, Cal placed it into her hand. "Come on, you look much more beautiful smiling. Let's go back and rejoin the party, shall we?"

Letting out a few sobs, she threw herself into his arms, and he didn't stop her.

.·。.·゜·༺♥༻ ·゜·。.

So, what do you think about Cal & Olivia's relationship? Do you think they have a solid base to start a marriage? What issues do you think they have?

What do you think of Callisto, Cal Sr.'s father? Do you think he's a good dad?

Anyways, did you know that TSE has been placed on #1 twice this week? First on #historicalromance and the second on #maturecontent ! 💚