Scene: The Throne Room of Everthorns
The grand hall of Everthorns was heavy with tension. King Alden sat on his throne, his face a mask of contemplation, while Queen Evera stood beside him, her fingers gripping the fabric of her gown in restrained fury. Lord Frederick, red-faced with rage, paced the length of the room.
“She betrayed me!” Frederick’s voice thundered. “She fled in the night like a coward—to our enemy’s kingdom, no less! This is treason, Your Majesty!”
Alden exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the armrest of his throne. He was silent, his thoughts spiraling. He had expected Marlowe to resist, but to flee? To Easton? That was a move he hadn’t foreseen.
Evera’s voice was calm but ice-cold. “This is what happens when you give a daughter too much freedom.” Her gaze was sharp, her lips pressed into a thin line. “She was supposed to secure our future, Alden. Instead, she is risking everything we built.”
“She humiliated me!” Frederick snarled. “This is unacceptable, Your Majesty. You must bring her back. By force, if necessary.”
Alden looked at him sharply. “And start a war? Over your pride, Lord Frederick?”
Frederick clenched his jaw. “Then what do you propose? We let her run to our enemy like a lovesick fool?”
Evera folded her arms. “She is young and reckless. But she will realize, soon enough, that Easton is not the answer. We should have never given her so much freedom.”
Alden finally spoke, his voice steady but thoughtful. “Perhaps this is not entirely a loss.”
Frederick and Evera looked at him in confusion.
“Think,” Alden continued. “She is in his kingdom now. We know what Easton values, how he rules, and now… we have someone on the inside.”
Evera frowned. “You think she will betray him?”
Alden’s expression remained unreadable. “I think she may not have a choice.”
Frederick’s eyes darkened. “You want to use her?”
“She may still prove useful,” Alden said simply. “One way or another.”
Evera tilted her head slightly. “And if she refuses?”
Alden’s lips curved into something that was not quite a smile. “Then she will learn what it means to go against her own blood.”
Next Move:
Will Evera try to manipulate Marlowe into returning?
Will Frederick act out of anger and take matters into his own hands?
Will Alden send someone to keep watch on Marlowe?
Frederick’s Wrath: A Reckless Move
Scene: The War Room of Everthorns
Lord Frederick stormed through the stone corridors of Everthorns Castle, his fury barely contained. The moment he had left the throne room, his mind was set—if Alden refused to act, then he would.
He entered the war room, where his most trusted knights and guards awaited his orders. His face was twisted with rage, his hands clenched into fists.
“We move tonight,” he barked. “Send a unit of men into Easton’s kingdom—covert, quick, and precise. We bring Marlowe back.”
The captain of his guard hesitated. “My Lord, if we enter Easton’s territory without King Alden’s command, it could be seen as an act of war.”
“I do not care what Alden sees it as,” Frederick snapped. “Marlowe belongs to me. That boy king stole her from me, and I will not stand for it.”
One of the knights shifted uneasily. “And if she refuses to come back?”
Frederick’s jaw tightened. “Then she will regret it.”
His rage burned brighter than reason. He would not let Marlowe slip away, and he would not let Easton take what was meant to be his.
Meanwhile, in Easton’s Kingdom…
Marlowe had just begun to feel safe, unaware that a storm was coming for her.
Frederick’s Obsession: A Dangerous Obsession
Scene: The Dark Chambers of Everthorns Castle
Frederick sat in his dimly lit chambers, his fingers curled tightly around the hilt of his dagger. His rage was no longer just anger—it was obsession.
Marlowe.
She was meant to be his.
And yet, she had the audacity to slip through his fingers. To choose Easton over him.
His breathing was ragged as he replayed everything in his mind—the way she looked at Easton, the way she laughed with him, the way she had defied her fate.
He would not allow it.
If Marlowe refused to return willingly, then she would suffer until she begged for him instead.
He had already given the order. His men would reach Easton’s kingdom soon. And when they did, they would drag her back by force.
If she resisted?
Then she would learn what happens when you betray Lord Frederick of Everthorns.
-
It was a peaceful evening in Easton’s castle. Marlowe sat alone in the garden, lost in thought. The wind carried the scent of wildflowers, and the night sky stretched infinitely above her.
But peace never lasted long.
Before she could react, shadows moved in the darkness. A hand clamped over her mouth.
She struggled, thrashing against the iron grip that held her, but more figures emerged, grabbing her arms and legs. Frederick’s men.
“Shh, Princess,” a voice hissed in her ear. “Lord Frederick is expecting you.”
Marlowe’s eyes widened in horror. No.
She tried to scream, but the cloth over her mouth muffled any sound. The last thing she saw before darkness swallowed her was the castle—so close, yet so far.
Scene: Easton’s Chambers – Moments Later
A guard barged into Easton’s room, out of breath.
“Your Majesty—Princess Marlowe—she’s gone!”
The words hit Easton like a blade to the chest. His vision blurred with rage.
Gone?
Taken?
The room trembled under the weight of his fury. His hands clenched into fists.
Frederick.
He would burn Everthorns to the ground if that bastard laid a single finger on her.
“Prepare my army.”
“We’re bringing her back.”
- A Prisoner in Everthorns -
Marlowe’s wrists burned from the tight ropes binding her. She had been dragged back to Everthorns, locked away like a prisoner in her own kingdom.
Frederick stood before her, his dark eyes filled with satisfaction. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She recoiled.
“You think you can escape your fate?” he sneered. “You think Easton will come for you?”
Marlowe lifted her chin, defiant. “He will. And when he does, you will regret this.”
Frederick smirked. “Oh, I doubt that, my dear. Because by the time he arrives, you will already be my wife.”
Her blood turned cold.
Frederick leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “You belong to me, Marlowe. Whether you like it or not.”
She clenched her jaw. Not if she had anything to say about it.
Scene: The War Council – Easton’s Kingdom
Easton paced the room, his generals watching as he seethed with fury.
“Marlowe has been taken,” he growled. “This is an act of war.”
One of his commanders hesitated. “Your Majesty, Everthorns is well fortified. Attacking head-on would be reckless.”
Easton’s eyes burned with determination.
“Then we don’t attack head-on.”
He turned to his most trusted knight.
“We infiltrate the castle. We take her back. And we make Frederick suffer.”
Scene: Marlowe’s Escape Plan
Locked in her chambers, Marlowe pressed her ear to the door.
She had to escape before the wedding.
She glanced at the window—too high. The door—heavily guarded.
Her only option? To outsmart Frederick before Easton arrived.
Taking a deep breath, she prepared to play the most dangerous game of her life.
Marlowe sat by the window, her hands folded in her lap, staring at the moonlit sky. She looked calm, almost serene—but inside, her mind was racing.
She had one chance.
When the door creaked open, she didn’t move. She already knew who it was.
Frederick.
“Enjoying your last night of freedom?” he mocked, stepping inside. “Tomorrow, you will be mine.”
Marlowe turned to face him, her expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, she smiled.
“Perhaps I was wrong about you, my lord,” she murmured.
Frederick’s eyes narrowed. “What are you playing at?”
She stood and slowly approached him. Not timid. Not fearful. A queen in her own right.
“I’ve fought this for so long, but maybe… maybe my mother was right,” she whispered, trailing her fingers over his sleeve. “Perhaps I was meant to be yours.”
Frederick stiffened, clearly suspicious—but not immune to her charm.
Marlowe tilted her head. “But I need to know… do you truly want me? Or am I just another piece in your game for power?”
Frederick scoffed. “You wound me, my dear. Why would I go through all this trouble if I didn’t want you?”
Marlowe smiled again. Good. He’s taking the bait.
She let her fingers trail to the belt at his waist, where his dagger rested.
“Then prove it,” she whispered, leaning closer.
Frederick smirked, his arrogance making him blind. “And how shall I do that?”
Marlowe struck.
With a swift, precise movement, she pulled his dagger free and pressed it against his throat.
Frederick’s smirk vanished.
“Like this,” she hissed.
Scene: The Escape
Frederick had underestimated her.
With his own dagger in hand, Marlowe shoved him away and ran.
She knew the castle’s secret corridors better than anyone. If she could just reach the stables—
Guards appeared at the end of the hall.
She skidded to a halt, heart pounding. No way forward. No way back.
Then—a voice.
“This way!”
She turned. A cloaked figure stood in the shadows, motioning for her.
Marlowe hesitated for only a second before dashing toward them.
The stranger pulled her into a hidden passage, sealing the door behind them. “You certainly know how to make enemies, Princess.”
Marlowe’s eyes widened. “You?”
Beneath the hood, a familiar face smirked.
It wasn’t Easton.
It was her father, King Alden.
-
Marlowe’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at her father.
King Alden.
She had expected anyone—perhaps a loyal servant, a rogue knight, maybe even a spy from Easton’s court. But not him.
“Father…?” Her voice wavered between relief and suspicion. “Why are you helping me?”
Alden adjusted his cloak, his face unreadable. “Because I cannot allow Everthorns to fall into ruin.”
Marlowe narrowed her eyes. “Ruin?”
Alden sighed, leading her further into the secret tunnel. “Frederick is not just an ambitious noble. He’s the last tether between our kingdom and the Duke of Mage’s bloodline. Your mother has always believed binding you to him would secure our strength.” He glanced at her. “But I disagree.”
Marlowe clenched her fists. “And yet you let this happen. You let me be thrown into this marriage—”
“I needed to be certain,” Alden interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “Certain that you would choose for yourself. That you would fight.”
Marlowe blinked, taken aback. “You… wanted me to defy this marriage?”
Alden nodded. “If you had accepted it willingly, I would have known you weren’t ready to rule.”
A cold realization settled over her. “So this was all a test?”
“No,” Alden said solemnly. “This was preparation.”
Marlowe stopped walking. “For what?”
Alden finally turned to look at her fully. “For the war that’s coming.”
The Weight of Truth
Marlowe’s blood ran cold. “What war?”
Alden’s expression darkened. “Your mother and I have been divided for years, though we played the part of a unified front. She has always wanted Everthorns to remain untouched, to control our fate by binding us to the Duke’s line.” His voice dropped lower. “But I have long suspected that Everthorns was never meant to stand alone.”
Marlowe’s heart pounded. She understood what he was saying before he even spoke the words.
“King Easton,” she whispered.
Alden nodded. “His father was a tyrant, but Easton… he is something else. You know it too, don’t you?”
Marlowe swallowed hard. Yes, she did.
Alden’s voice softened. “And I saw the way he looked at you, Marlowe. He doesn’t just see a political alliance—he sees you.”
She felt her face heat.
Alden continued, “I cannot force Evera to change her mind. But I can give you the chance to make the choice she never had. If you want to leave… if you want to go to him—now is your only chance.”
Marlowe’s heart raced.
She had fought so long against fate, against being controlled. But now… her father was offering her something she never thought she would have.
A choice.
Would she take it?
-
Easton’s Restless Mind
The candlelight flickered in the dimly lit chamber as King Easton sat at his desk, his fingers drumming against the polished wood. Scrolls lay scattered before him—reports from his council, messages from Everthorns, and letters he had yet to read.
But none of them held his attention.
Not since he returned from Everthorns.
Not since her.
Marlowe.
His mind had been consumed by the memory of her—the way she ran, laughed, fought, and stood her ground against him. How, for the first time in his life, he had felt… like more than just a king.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said, his voice sharper than intended.
His most trusted advisor, Lord Rowen, stepped inside and bowed. “Your Majesty, there is news.”
Easton leaned forward. “From Everthorns?”
Rowen hesitated before nodding. “There are whispers… unrest within their court. It seems the princess—”
Easton’s eyes darkened. “What about Marlowe?”
Rowen exhaled. “She was meant to marry Lord Frederick. But now, it appears something has changed. There are rumors that she has fled.”
Silence.
Easton’s entire body went still. Fled?
His heart pounded, but his face remained unreadable. “And where is she now?”
Rowen hesitated. “That… we do not know yet. But if she has fled Everthorns, then she will either try to hide—”
“—or she will come here,” Easton finished.
The moment he said it, something in his chest tightened.
Was that even possible?
Had she chosen him?
Or was she running from something far worse?
Whatever the reason, one thing was certain—Marlowe was out there, alone.
And Easton wasn’t about to sit on his throne and wait.
He would find her first.
-
King Alden’s Decision
While Lord Frederick seethed in his fury, King Alden sat in deep thought, his hands clasped before him. Marlowe had fled.
He knew she was strong-willed, but this? Defying him, defying her mother, defying the entire future set before her?
Queen Evera stood near the window, watching the moonlight reflect over the castle gardens. Her voice was quiet but sharp. “You need to bring her back.”
Alden exhaled. “If she has gone to Easton, this might not be as simple as you think.”
His wife turned to him, her eyes flashing. “She is meant for Lord Frederick. You agreed to this.”
Alden looked at her then, his gaze unreadable. He had agreed—but now? Now things were different.
“If she chooses Easton,” he murmured, “it could strengthen Everthorns, not weaken it.”
Evera’s face darkened. “You would entertain that idea?”
Alden sighed, rubbing his temple. “She has placed us in a delicate position. If I try to force her back, Easton might see it as an act of aggression. And I have no desire for war.”
Evera’s voice trembled with frustration. “War? You’re thinking of war when she has dishonored us?”
Alden remained silent for a moment before he finally stood.
“I will send word to Easton,” he declared. “If Marlowe is under his protection, then we will see what kind of king he truly is.”
Evera’s lips parted, disbelief flashing across her face. “You would risk our daughter choosing him?”
Alden met her gaze.
“If she already has,” he said, “then there is nothing you or I can do to stop it.”
-
Lord Frederick’s Wrath
The moment Marlowe fled, Lord Frederick’s fury knew no bounds.
He stormed through the halls of Everthorns Castle, his steps heavy with uncontained rage. His betrothed—his claim—had slipped from his grasp.
“She dares humiliate me?” he growled, his fists clenching.
Servants and guards stepped aside, fearful of his expression. He wasn’t just angry—he was out for blood.
His father, Duke Wally, stood in the council chamber, his face as unreadable as ever. “You’ve lost your composure, my son.”
Frederick’s glare burned. “She ran, Father! I was promised her—Everthorns was meant to be mine! And now, she’s gone!”
The older man exhaled slowly, pouring himself a glass of wine. “And what will you do about it? Throw a tantrum?”
Frederick seethed. “I’ll do what needs to be done. I’ll bring her back. I’ll make her regret ever defying me.”
Duke Wally finally looked at him, his gaze sharp. “And if she went to King Easton?”
The room fell silent.
Frederick’s entire body stiffened at the thought. Marlowe. With Easton.
He slammed his fist into the table, knocking over the wine glass. “I’ll drag her back myself. And if Easton stands in my way—”
A dark smirk twisted his lips.
“—I’ll make him suffer too.”
King Easton Receives Alden’s Message
Three days had passed since Marlowe fled Everthorns, and King Easton had returned to his own kingdom. Though he buried himself in his duties, his mind often strayed to her—the fiery spy, the girl who challenged him, the only one who made him forget he was a king, even for a moment.
But today, something pulled him from those thoughts. A letter from King Alden.
Easton sat in his grand chamber, his gloved fingers tightening around the sealed parchment. The royal crest of Everthorns stared back at him like a warning.
His advisor, Lord Roderic, stood beside him. “The messenger insists this is urgent, Your Majesty.”
Easton broke the seal and unfolded the letter. His eyes scanned Alden’s words—his neutral tone, his carefully placed concern.
> King Easton,
If Princess Marlowe has come to your kingdom seeking refuge, I ask that she be returned home. She has abandoned her duty, and I do not wish for tensions to arise between our kingdoms over personal matters.
Should you refuse, we will understand this as an act of harboring a runaway princess against the will of her family and kingdom.
This is not a threat, but a warning.
King Alden of Everthorns.
Easton exhaled slowly, setting the letter down.
“She really did run,” he muttered under his breath.
Lord Roderic frowned. “What is your command, Your Majesty?”
Easton leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the wooden armrest.
If she was coming here, she hadn’t arrived yet. But he knew Marlowe. She wasn’t a woman who would kneel to anyone—not her father, not her mother, not even him.
And now, Alden was testing him. Would he give her back? Or would he claim her as his?
A slow smirk formed on Easton’s lips. He already knew his answer.
“Send word back,” he said.
Lord Roderic nodded, awaiting his reply.
Easton’s voice was calm but firm. “Tell King Alden: If Marlowe comes to me, she stays. And if he wants her back—he can come and take her himself.”
Marlowe on the Run
Marlowe rode hard and fast, the wind biting at her skin as she pushed her horse through the dense forest. She had no plan—only a desperate need to escape. Everthorns was no longer safe. Not with her mother forcing her into marriage. Not with Lord Frederick turning against her.
Her father might have hesitated, but her mother had chosen a side. Evera’s cold voice still echoed in her ears.
"You will marry Lord Frederick, Marlowe. It is your duty."
"You will not disgrace our family."
"You will not defy me."
Marlowe defied them all.
The weight of her decision pressed heavily on her chest, but she couldn’t stop now. She knew only one place where she might be safe. One person who might protect her.
King Easton.
She clenched her jaw. Would he even take her in? She had spied on him, deceived him, challenged him—yet somehow, she had also earned his trust. And in return, he had stolen her heart.
But would he see her as a runaway princess? Or a traitor to her own kingdom?
She wasn’t sure. But there was no turning back now.
She urged her horse forward, racing toward King Easton’s kingdom—toward the only man who could change her fate.
—
Back to King Easton
King Easton stood at the balcony of his war room, staring at the dark horizon. His instincts told him she was coming.
Marlowe.
Despite Alden’s warning, despite the consequences—he wanted her to come.
But if she did… then what?
Would he protect her? Or would she simply become another piec