The Prince's Arranged Marriage-Chapter 106: The Kingdom’s Theatre

The hood came off to candlelight.

Warm, soft, deliberately flattering.

Lucien blinked once and took in the room large enough to feel official, furnished enough to look respectable. There was a long table set with parchment and ink. Two chairs placed at the head like a council meeting. A tapestry bearing Avaloria’s crest hung behind the seat meant for him.

And the most telling detail

There were men waiting.

Not guards.

Witnesses.

Three of them, dressed in fine but understated clothing, the kind worn by senior clerks and minor nobles. People whose names would mean nothing to the city, but whose voices would be described later as credible.

A healer stood near the corner too, hands folded, eyes downcast. Not independent. Not free.

Seraphine was there, poised and calm, holding a folder against her chest like she was presenting an agenda. Beside her stood Varric, silver-haired and polished, wearing that same controlled smile pleasant enough to be quoted.

Lucien’s stomach turned.

This was it.

The stage.

Varric gestured to the chair beneath the crest. "Your Highness. Please."

Lucien didn’t move.

He looked around the room slowly, letting his gaze settle on each "witness" one by one until they shifted uncomfortably.

Then he looked at Varric.

"So this is your theatre," Lucien said softly.

Varric’s smile didn’t waver. "It’s a meeting."

Lucien’s eyes sharpened. "No. Meetings involve choice."

Seraphine stepped forward gently, voice smooth. "Your Highness, if you cooperate, you’ll return to the palace tonight."

Lucien laughed quietly. "And you’ll tell the kingdom I was ’resting.’"

Varric sighed as if Lucien was being unreasonable. "Lucien, please. No one wants to harm you."

Lucien tilted his head. "That’s what men say when they plan to do something worse than harm."

Varric’s eyes cooled slightly. "Sit."

Lucien held his gaze. "No."

A quiet tension moved through the room. One of the minor nobles cleared his throat. Another looked away.

Varric’s smile thinned. "You’re making this harder than it needs to be."

Lucien’s voice stayed calm. "You’re making it uglier than you can admit."

Seraphine softened her tone, as if speaking to a frightened friend. "Your Highness, you don’t have to sign anything tonight. We only need you to speak."

Lucien’s pulse kicked.

Speak.

Words were easier to twist than ink.

Lucien lifted his chin. "Speak what."

Varric slid a sheet of parchment across the table notes, not a contract. A script.

Lucien didn’t touch it, but he could read the top lines from where he stood.

It was a gentle statement, meant to sound like him. Gratitude. Love for Avaloria. Need for privacy. Confidence in the council’s guidance. Trust in Alexander to continue serving the kingdom.

It was crafted to soothe.

It was crafted to erase.

Lucien looked up slowly. "You want me to say I’m stepping back."

Seraphine nodded. "Just for a little while."

Lucien smiled faintly. "Until you solidify control."

Varric’s smile returned, calm and patient. "Until stability returns."

Lucien’s eyes hardened. "Stability doesn’t return when you steal a prince."

Varric leaned back, folding his hands. "We didn’t steal you. We protected you."

Lucien laughed soft, sharp. "From what? My husband’s love?"

Varric’s eyes narrowed faintly. "From the chaos your presence invites."

Lucien’s stomach twisted, but he kept his voice light. "Ah. Foreign influence again."

Varric’s expression remained composed. "You are Veridian."

Lucien’s smile turned colder. "And Alexander is Avalorian."

Seraphine stepped in quickly, as if to smooth the air. "Your Highness, you can’t fight the entire council alone."

Lucien looked at her, eyes bright. "I’m not alone."

Varric’s smile tightened. "You are here without him."

Lucien’s voice dropped, steady as stone. "He’s still coming."

A faint ripple moved through the witnesses.

Varric’s gaze sharpened. "You’re betting on love."

Lucien’s mouth curved slightly. "No. I’m betting on Alexander."

Varric stared at him for a beat, then tapped the script. "Speak the statement."

Lucien didn’t move.

Varric’s voice stayed mild. "You’ll be escorted back. You’ll be treated with respect. You’ll keep your dignity."

Lucien swallowed, then asked quietly, "And if I refuse."

Seraphine answered, calm. "Then the witnesses will still hear what we need them to hear."

Lucien went still.

Cold slid down his spine.

Varric smiled gently. "It’s better if you cooperate, Lucien. It makes it cleaner."

Lucien’s heart pounded.

So they were prepared to lie even without his words. They could claim he had spoken softly, confused, agreeing to rest. They could claim he had been examined, advised, protected.

They didn’t need his voice.

They needed his silence. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

Lucien let out a slow breath, forcing himself not to panic.

He looked at the witnesses again at their careful faces, their slightly uneasy eyes. These weren’t cruel men.

They were cowardly men.

Men who wanted to go home and pretend they weren’t part of something rotten.

Lucien stepped forward.

Not toward the chair beneath the crest toward the table, the witnesses, the script.

Varric’s eyes narrowed, watching closely.

Lucien rested his hands lightly on the table edge and smiled.

Warm. Polite. Regal.

Then he spoke clearly loud enough that every man in the room would hear each word exactly.

"My name is Prince Lucien of Veridian," he said, voice steady.

Varric’s smile tightened.

Lucien continued, "I am the lawful prince-consort of Avaloria by marriage to Prince Alexander."

Seraphine’s eyes flashed.

Lucien ignored her and kept his gaze on the witnesses. "I have not been examined by independent healers. I have not requested privacy. I have not written or signed any statement of withdrawal."

One of the witnesses stiffened.

Lucien’s voice stayed calm, controlled. "I have been held against my will. If you claim otherwise, you will be lying."

Varric’s mask cracked for the first time a flicker of real anger beneath the polish.

"Lucien," Varric said softly, warning.

Lucien turned his gaze to him, smile still warm. "That’s the truth. And truth is so inconvenient in theatre."

Seraphine stepped forward, voice tightening. "Your Highness, please"

Lucien lifted a hand, silencing her with simple authority. "No."

The room went dead quiet.

Lucien looked at the healer in the corner. "You," he said gently. "When they ask you what you saw, you can either tell the truth or accept that you’re part of a crime."

The healer’s hands trembled.

Varric’s voice turned cold. "Enough."

Lucien’s heart hammered, but he held himself upright.

He looked back at the witnesses again. "You will be asked to repeat what happened here. Remember this moment: you saw me standing, coherent, refusing to step back."

A minor noble swallowed hard.

Lucien’s smile softened slightly. "And if you want Avaloria stable, help Alexander find me."

Varric slammed his palm against the table one sharp sound that made the candles jump.

"Enough," Varric repeated, no longer pretending patience.

Guards moved in at once.

Lucien didn’t flinch.

He leaned in slightly, voice low enough only Varric and Seraphine could hear.

"You can’t stage me as weak now," Lucien murmured. "Not after that."

Seraphine’s eyes were bright with fury.

Varric’s smile returned small, dangerous. "We don’t need you weak," he whispered back. "We only need you... absent."

Lucien’s stomach dropped.

Then a guard grabbed his arm.

Lucien didn’t fight not here, not now, not with witnesses watching. He let them pull him back, because the words mattered more than bruises.

He had planted truth in their ears.

Now he had to survive long enough for it to reach Alexander.

As they hooded him again, Lucien’s last clear thought was sharp and steady:

I ruined the script.

And beneath it, fierce and aching:

Alexander, hurry.