The room remained quiet after he drank the medicine.
Anastasia hesitated only a second before stepping closer. She lifted her hand gently and placed her palm against his forehead.
He froze.
Her touch was cool. Careful. Unafraid.
"You're still warm," she murmured, her brows drawing together in concern.
Adrien felt something entirely different from fever rise to his face.
"I did not realize the trial included… inspection," he said softly.
She ignored the attempt at humor. "You should not attend tomorrow."
"I must."
"You can barely stand."
"I will stand," he replied calmly.
Her hand lingered a moment longer before she withdrew it.
The silence between them was no longer sharp. It was fragile.
"Then skip one day," she insisted. "Let someone else observe."
"A prince does not observe from absence," he answered quietly.
Frustration flickered in her eyes.
He studied her expression, then said something unexpected.
"If you wish to leave… I can release your mother from her punishment."
Anastasia blinked. "What?"
"You should not be here," he continued, voice steady but soft. "Not in the middle of this. Not watching something that hurts you."
She stared at him.
"You do not deserve to be treated like this," he said. "By someone who betrayed your trust." The word betrayed felt heavier in his own mouth.
Anastasia's chest tightened.
"You think leaving will solve it?" she asked quietly.
"I think you deserve peace."
She looked at him carefully. Still sick. Still stubborn. Still choosing duty over himself. And even now, trying to protect her by pushing her away. But this time, she did not step back. Not yet.
The candlelight flickered softly between them. Anastasia did not move away. Instead, she asked quietly, "What will you do after I leave?"
Adrien held her gaze for a long moment.
"Fulfill my duty," he answered. "Attend the trials. Choose a bride. Become king when the time comes." His voice was calm. Too calm.
"And?" she pressed.
"I will look after the kingdom. Continue the royal line." A faint, distant expression crossed his face. "I will do what is required."
"And how will you live?" she asked.
He gave a small, almost humorless smile. "With discipline."
"With happiness?"
Silence.
"With love?" she insisted.
He did not answer.
Her chest tightened. "Have you taken everything for granted?" she demanded softly. "Your own heart? Mine?"
He looked down briefly, jaw tightening.
She stepped closer. "What about my feelings, Adrien?"
The sound of his name, stripped of title, made him look up sharply.
He rose from the bed slowly despite the lingering weakness and stepped toward her until only a breath separated them.
"I am trying to protect you," he said quietly.
"By pushing me away?"
"I am a rose with thorns," he continued, voice low and strained. "My life is not simple. It is watched. Judged. Restricted. If you stay near me, you will bleed. That night I was too happy after learning that you love me. I stupidly forgot my situation and confessed my feelings too. Forgeting that the boy you love isn't the prince."
Her anger flared instantly. Before he could react, she grabbed his collar and pulled him down slightly to her level.
"Then why did't you follow me?" she demanded, eyes blazing. "Why did't you beg for forgiveness? Why didn't you take responsibility for breaking my heart?"
He froze.
"Why don't you protect me properly?" she continued, voice trembling but fierce. "Protect me from the court, from whispers, from loneliness. Why don't you smother me with so much love that the thorns don't matter?"
His breath caught. She was still here. Still fighting. Still choosing him.
"You think I cannot endure judgment?" she went on. "You think I am that fragile?"
"No," he whispered.
"Then stop deciding for me."
The room felt smaller. Warmer. Honest.
"You ask what I deserve," she said, her grip loosening slightly but not releasing him. "I deserve the choice to stay. To face it with you."
His eyes searched hers, disbelief and hope colliding.
"You would stay?" he asked quietly. "Even if every eye in the kingdom watches you? Even if every step you take is criticized?"
She swallowed, but her voice did not waver. "We will stay together. And protect each other."
Something inside him broke open. All the restraint. All the careful distance. He pulled her into him suddenly, wrapping his arms around her tightly, as if afraid she might disappear. She felt his heartbeat, fast and uneven against her ear.
"I never stopped loving you," he confessed into her hair. "I thought distance would spare you."
"It didn't," she murmured.
He tightened his embrace. "Then let me do it properly. Let me take responsibility. Let me stand in front of you when the court whispers. Let me give you all of my love, not fragments hidden behind duty."
Her fingers curled into his shirt.
"You will not push me away again," she said softly.
"I will not," he promised.
For the first time, the prince did not stand as heir to a throne. He stood as Adrien. And he chose her openly. Outside the chamber, the palace remained grand and watchful. But inside, two hearts finally stood on the same side. Together.
Anastasia did not pull away from his embrace. But something thoughtful passed across her face.
"There is one thing," she said quietly.
Adrien loosened his hold, searching her expression. "Ask me."
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. "Did you ever feel something for Cinderella? Truthfully."
The question did not carry jealousy. It carried finality. He blinked once, surprised, but did not hesitate.
"No."
She studied him carefully.
"I admired her honesty," he continued. "She is kind without calculation. I saw someone who would bloom if given freedom. I wanted to help her stand on her own feet." His lips curved faintly. "That is all."
"And when you learned she was my sister?" Anastasia asked.
"That was the moment I understood how small this palace truly is," he admitted. "It startled me. The girl I met with in the forest, bold and confident enough make anyone bow. I kept wondering about you… and suddenly the two worlds collided. In the worst possible way. "
Anastasia let out a soft laugh, the tension melting from her shoulders. "So fate has a sense of humor."
"It seems so."
He brushed a strand of hair from her face gently. "What I feel for you is not admiration. It is not curiosity. It is not charity."
His voice deepened, steady and sure.
"When you are near, I am not prince first. I am simply Adrien. When you are angry, I want to listen. When you are hurt, I feel responsible. When you smile, it feels like sunlight breaking through heavy curtains."
Her breath caught.
"I love you," he said clearly. "Not as obligation. Not as rebellion. I love you because my heart chose you without asking permission."
The room felt impossibly still.
"I want to marry you," he continued. "I want to live beside you, argue with you, protect you, be protected by you. I want to grow old with you until death decides it has waited long enough."
Her eyes shimmered, but she did not cry.
Instead, she stepped closer and pressed her forehead to his.
"Then stop hesitating," she whispered.
His answer was not words. Gently, carefully, he guided her backward until she sat at the edge of his bed. There was no haste, no desperation. Only certainty.
He brushed his fingers along her cheek, as if confirming she was real.
When he kissed her, it was deep and earnest, a promise sealed not by politics but by choice.

She responded without fear, hands sliding to his shoulders, pulling him closer.
Outside, the palace still held its rules and watchful eyes. But inside that quiet chamber, two futures intertwined. Not because of trials. Not because of crowns.
Because they chose each other.
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SIDE NOTE: Finally they are together. After all these chapters. Now I will take my leave. Byee.
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