1 Chapter 1: Pessimists

"Pessimist! A true pessimist you are! Why must you always think so negatively?!" Echoes of Ian's voice surrounded the room.

"Enough with it already. I told you, I'm not in favour of a betrothal." Said Felix Arzhel Nightshade, the only heir to Crestshire Empire. The attempts to find prince Felix a fiance had been going on ever since his coming of age ceremony. By now, almost everyone was exhausted by constant disapprovals of the prince. He never even batted an eye at any lady nor did he ever acknowledge the suitors.

"But why?! All those young ladies were stunning. And you reject them merely because-"

"Because a betrothal will only end up being a hassle in the distant future. I've told you a million times, I have no intention of marrying anyone. So why bother?"

"Because the empire needs a Queen. So it is my request to you, crown prince to not think of such matters so selfishly. And why take it so negatively in the first place? What if you fall in love with someone someday? What you actually do wish to marry someone in the future?"

"Fall in love?" Felix let out a sarcastic chuckle "I find myself incapable of imagining a situation where I would actually fall in love with someone Ian. And though I'm aware you are my personal royal guard but don't you think you're being too pushy towards your prince?" He raised a brow at Ian, placing his hands on his hips.

"I wouldn't dare, your highness. But still.... sometimes, try to believe a little." Ian lowered his head in defeat causing Felix to grin.

Felix never particularly 'hated' the idea of love, though he did find it ridiculous and unreal. With his bright golden hair, soft blue eyes, deep alluring voice and a brilliantly toned and tall figure; he had the ability to make any lady spell-bound to his astonishing looks. Any woman he came across was already mesmerized by his charisma. There were so many eyes glued onto him from time to time but never once did he notice the so-called 'love' in those eyes. All he saw was lust. Maidens madly gazing at him with looks of awe just for what he looked like on the outside. Which often made him question, would they truly love the person he is inside the same way? Did this thing called 'love' truly exist? They could call him a pessimist as much as they wanted, but wasn't not believing at all a bit better than believing a lie?

All those tales about falling in love at first sight.... but was it really love if it was merely from one sight? How could they claim to be in love by just looking at the outside? What made them so sure they'd love the inside too? So many questions that he pondered upon for so long...yet he received no answers. Eventually he believed that maybe, there is no such thing as love...maybe it truly is all deception. That is why no lady in Crestshire ever amused Felix. No matter how different their beauties were, the look in their eyes was always the same. The same desperate, mesmerized, lustful look. They were all the same.

"Well then, back to the more important things..." Felix said moving towards the pile of documents and letters laying on the table near his bed. "How many social events am I required to visit this week?"

"For this week, suprisingly there are almost no events among the nobility except for an engagement party hosted by the Banes. Their only daughter Ophelia Bane is to be engaged to Theodore Thatcher...."

"Hm..as much as I hate to attend such useless events" he sighed, "Mother had instructed me to keep up with the social parties to increase connections. So that leaves me no choice."

"Great then, I'll ask the maids to prepare suitable clothing. The event will take place tomorrow after dawn I believe, so I'll get everything ready for you by then."

"I'm so glad I can depend on you for the tedious  part!"

"Ofcourse....." Ian sighed in despair.

~

The entire world fell apart like the tiny bits of sharp pieces of clear glass when Ophelia watched the only person who had truly accepted her in this world, her mother, fall numb before her eyes. The winter of Crystalford was cruel on those who didn't have much more than a mere stack of wood to burn. Not a roof above or a mattress below, Ophelia's life had always been in poverty alongside her mother. But the seven year old girl was devastated to see her mother, her only family left, die of cruel, cold whether of Crystalford Duchy. It was quite terrifying and cruel memory to recall but to this day, Ophelia hadn't forgotten the cold touch of her mother's hands as she held them tightly when her mother had breathed her last breath. She remembered the first time she met the grand Duke of Crystalford, a man who had helped her bury her mother's body. The man looked just like Ophelia herself, resemblance was unreal. He had the same dark black hair as hers, though not the eyes. Ophelia's eyes were emerald like her mother's, his were the deepest blue she had ever seen.

When he helped her bury her mother, it was certainly not kindness or pity that could be seen in his deep ocean blue eyes. It was rather guilt. Back then for a discreet fleeting moment she had questioned as to why was he, a man who had just came out of nowhere, guilty of her mother's death. But when she was brought to the Bane manor, every answer cascaded in her mind. The Duke of Crystalford, Duke Cillian Bane was Ophelia's true father. Ophelia did remember her mother mentioning of a man she made a grave mistake of ever falling for. "It's just that thoughts that blur your mind at that age. An age where you believe that the coldest of hearts may melt by merely a warm hug. But as time passes like a swift blow of wind passing by, those thoughts become foolish and believing them becomes the greatest mistake. So, my daughter....no matter what age you reach, never believe in things as foolish as love and trust or.... destiny. Happiness, in this cruel world, is a myth." She'd say bitterly. Her mother's words were still engraved in her heart as she grew older.

The Duke never spoke or even spare her a glance after she had entered the manor. Ophelia had been in the duchess' care since then. The Duchess, lady Delilah Bane was an austere woman. She'd speak bitterly and would always look at Ophelia with a scornful gaze.

"You should be grateful that a whore's daughter like you are even stepping on the very floor of this manor." Were the first words she had spoken to Ophelia before even introducing herself. The Duchess had a a son of her own but Ophelia had barely known him. He was sent away to study in the capital after mere two months of Ophelia's arrival. All she knew about him was that he was the exact copy of the Duke. His speech, demeanor, habits, looks everything resembled the Duke. He had almost little to no resemblance of the Duchess.

From the very first step she took when she entered the manor, her life had been decided. The Duchess allowed her to only visit a few places in the manor. Even the dining room was out of bounds. The Duchess believed her presence to be unsettling. Most days Ophelia would stay locked up in her cold, dark room. Out of all the rooms in the manor it was hers that lacked even a mere window. The light of the day barely ever reached her. Her mother's words were becoming quite clearer each day she spent in that manor. Chasing happiness was both an exhausting and fruitless endeavour. Happiness was a myth, indeed. She'd often sob in her pillow to take out her sorrow. It was rather rare for her pillow to stay dry of any tears everynight when she slept. There was an extremely limited amount of staff appointed for her. The maids who were supposed to take care of her would mostly just slack off and speak ill of her mother instead. Her mother apparently was once a maid aswell. She had grown familiar to hateful gazes and terrible remarks. She hadn't attended any social events. Her only ever appearance in the nobility had been her coming of age ceremony. Ophelia was yet still grateful that atleast she had a roof over her head after her mother had passed.

The Duke had allowed her to study medicine at some extent but later that all the Duchess taught her were etiquettes. And one dare say, for a lady to master etiquettes is the same for a soldier to master fighting before he leaves for the war. The etiquette training from the Duchess was harsh. Even cruel as one may frame it. For every little mistake she did, she'd be burned or disciplined with whip lashes. It was as the Duchess had made it her personal stress-relief session to torment Ophelia by pointing out every little mistake of hers. The Duke turned a blind eye to her atrocities aswell. There was nothing poor Ophelia could do about it. Though the Duchess was so cruel and strict with her, she was rather soft for her own son, Declan. Ophelia would often catch a glimpse of her warmly smiling and playing with her son. She'd watch as the Duke would teach him valuable lessons, take him on walks. They both truly cherish him to the fullest. It was wrong or rather foolish of Ophelia to dare envy him, but a tiny whisper in the corner of her mind still remained. Asking her why were the Duke and Duchess not the same with her. Why did he get the loving hugs and warm smiles when all she got was scornful taunts and cold ignorant gaze. She sometimes wondered if Declan's parents were the same Duchess and Duke she had known. Why her brother cherished the pampering of the couple, Ophelia was the one who never even dared to call them mother or father.

The very month Ophelia had turned twenty, the Duchess had informed her of her marriage fixed to Viscount Theodore Thatcher. It was too sudden for her to realise that her life was going to flip once again. She clearly wasn't ready. She had tried to beg the Duchess to change her mind but it didn't work out. And tonight, was officially the last night for her before she got engaged to a man she hadn't even met.

"Your grace-"

"No no no no- I must find a way out Ezra! I must! Or I'll-" Ophelia's breath got heavier and heavier by each passing second. The crippling anxiety was growing onto her. Her vision was slowly getting blurry as she paced back and forth. She was close to reaching her limit.

"Your grace!" Ezra exclaimed pushing Ophelia towards the bed causing her to finally sit down, "-relax... Deep breaths okay?" Ophelia merely nodded and did as she instructed.

"I Apologize for the impudence but... there's nothing that can be done by panicking now. By the end of tomorrow you will be betrothed to Sir Thatcher and that's the truth."

"You may be right Ezra but... I can't just accept that."

"Why are you presuming the worst possible outcome? What if, by some miracle it all turns out to be fine in the end?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous! Such miracles don't come to people like me..."

"Destiny never leads you wrong, your grace. Give fate a chance. Believe a little..."

"You don't...you don't reckon this is my fate do you, Ezra? This... being transferred from one cage to another? marrying a complete stranger I know nothing of. This...this is my destiny?"

"Who knows? Maybe you'll fall in love with that complete stranger. Future is full of possibilities after all."

For the first time that night, Ophelia let out a laugh. Love? What love? When had there ever been a thing as mystical as 'love' in her life?

"Don't jest over such topic Ezra....who would dare, to love me?" Ophelia smiled bitterly at Ezra who was kneeling by her bed as she sat on the edge.

"I could swear on my entire existence your grace, if you flash that smile of yours a little more often, there won't be a single soul who won't be spell-bound by you..."

"Oh Ezra....is love truly as mundane as being spell-bound?"

Ezra took a pause giving it a thought for a moment. She wasn't really someone who believed in hoaxes but when it came to love, Ezra more than anyone, did believe. She nodded her head agreeing to Ophelia's remark as she spoke-"Still... it's a shame you don't smile so often."

"Then I'll reconsider your optimism, I'll follow what fate has for me....but still, I can't imagine a reality of someone falling in love with me let alone me falling for them."

"I.... really hope someone proves you wrong someday."

That  night before her emerald eyes closed to darkness, Ophelia pondered over the questions that Ezra had just awakened in her mind by her mere few words. Before sleeping she wrote her thoughts in her diary as usual. Ophelia had a habit of writing her thoughts in a diary. Most times she had no one to talk to, that was when she decided to start writing down her thoughts. The innocent way of coping from loneliness later became a habit of hers.

Dear diary,

Ezra told me to expect a bit positively from my engagement with Viscount Thatcher. But I don't know if I should expect anything anymore. I was always incapable to love or to be loved, that was indeed a fact for me. How could I believe if my fate gave me no reason to do so? I am tired of being an optimist, hoping for a beautiful future that never came. I am better off as a pessimist, maybe expecting absolutely nothing from my fate might save me from a bit of disappointment in my life. Love isn't real. It's just another pretty lie. For If it wasn't...maybe my world wouldn't have been so cruel.