Episode 6

The morning sun filtered gently through the towering glass windows of the palace dining hall, spilling golden light across the long mahogany table. The scent of freshly baked bread, roasted sausages, and brewed coffee filled the air. Crystal goblets caught the light like diamonds, while silver cutlery glimmered on polished plates. The grand chandelier above twinkled, as if the heavens themselves had descended to witness the royal family’s daily spectacle.

At the far end of the table, Prince Carl slouched in his chair, one arm draped lazily across the backrest, his other hand swirling the contents of his wine glass. He wasn’t drinking—only moving the red liquid in slow circles, as though it were something to control when he couldn’t control his life. His hair was slightly tousled, his dark suit jacket open, a picture of casual arrogance.

Across from him sat Ariel, posture perfect, her chin tilted proudly toward the ceiling. She wasn’t touching the food either—merely tracing the rim of her coffee cup with one manicured finger, her crimson lips pursed as though she were holding back a storm of words.

The silence between them wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind that crackled in the air, daring someone to break it.

Finally, Carl spoke. His voice was smooth, mocking, almost bored.

“So… how does it feel, Princess, waking up and realizing you’re trapped in this palace forever? Like a bird in a gilded cage?”

Ariel’s eyes snapped toward him, her sunglasses from yesterday now replaced with sharp eyeliner that made her glare even more piercing.

“Better than being trapped in a cage with you,” she said sweetly, her tone dripping venom. “Though, I suppose, every circus needs a clown.”

Carl smirked, unfazed. “Clown? That’s a new one. I expected ‘beast’ or ‘devil’ today. You must be getting soft.”

“Soft?” Ariel leaned forward, her hands flattening on the table. “Don’t flatter yourself. If I were getting soft, I would have smiled at you by now.”

“Please don’t,” Carl shot back immediately. “I’m not ready for nightmares before noon.”

The servants standing along the walls exchanged nervous glances. One footman coughed discreetly, and a maid nearly dropped a basket of bread rolls as she stifled a laugh.

Magarette, the queen, entered then, her gown sweeping gracefully behind her. She took in the sight of her son and his bride locked in yet another duel of words. A sigh left her lips, but there was also a sparkle in her eyes—like someone secretly enjoying the chaos. She walked over and sat beside Edward, who had been quietly sipping tea and pretending not to hear.

“Still fighting?” Magarette whispered to her husband.

Edward didn’t look up from his paper. “What gave it away—the silence that isn’t silence, or the fact that Carl looks like he’s one insult away from throwing his fork?”

Magarette chuckled softly. “At least they’re talking. That’s progress.”

At the far end of the table, Carl leaned back with a lazy grin.

“You know, Ariel, you’re lucky my parents like you. Otherwise, I’d have thrown you out of this palace by now.”

“Thrown me out?” Ariel scoffed, tossing her hair back dramatically. “You couldn’t even throw out a mouse if it ran across your office desk.”

Carl leaned forward, his grin sharpening. “You seem awfully interested in my office lately. Planning to visit, Princess? Or do you prefer to keep making a spectacle of yourself in public?”

Ariel’s jaw tightened. “If I did go, I’d run your office better than you. At least your employees wouldn’t be trembling in fear every time you walk past.”

Gasps fluttered along the servant line. The tension had become so thick you could slice it with a butter knife.

Carl’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Careful, sweetheart. Keep talking like that, and I might actually put you in charge for a day. Then we’ll see if that sharp tongue of yours can balance ledgers and manage contracts.”

“Try me,” Ariel fired back without hesitation. Her heart was hammering, but she refused to let him see her nerves. “I’d succeed. And when I do, you’ll have no excuse left to hide behind.”

For a brief moment, Carl’s smirk faltered. Not much—just enough for someone paying close attention to notice. Ariel noticed. It gave her the smallest thrill of victory.

From his seat, Edward finally lowered the paper and cleared his throat. “Children, must the dining hall become a battlefield every morning? At least let us eat in peace before you start throwing bread at each other.”

Ariel and Carl both froze, realizing their voices had risen. The servants were staring. Magarette was biting back a laugh.

Carl broke the silence first, muttering, “I wasn’t planning to throw bread. The butter knife, maybe.”

Ariel rolled her eyes. “Only because you’re jealous I’d throw straighter.”

The servants erupted into muffled giggles, covering their mouths quickly. The queen could no longer contain herself and laughed openly.

“Enough,” Edward said firmly, though even he had to hide a smile behind his teacup. “You two are impossible.”

Carl pushed back from the table abruptly, his chair scraping against the marble. “I have work to do,” he announced, straightening his jacket. “Some of us don’t have time to sit around and rehearse witty comebacks.”

“Work?” Ariel arched a brow. “That’s what you call glaring at employees until they cry?”

Carl ignored her, already striding toward the door. Ariel’s eyes followed him, her lips twitching between irritation and… something else she refused to name.

Magarette’s voice carried across the hall, teasing, “Darling, don’t forget to smile for your employees! It won’t kill you.”

Carl shot his mother a withering look over his shoulder but didn’t reply.

As the doors closed behind him, Ariel let out a long breath. For the first time that morning, silence settled over the table without sparks flying.

Magarette turned to Ariel with a sly grin. “You know, dear, the way you two argue… it’s almost romantic.”

Ariel choked on her coffee. “Romantic?!”

Edward chuckled quietly. “Well, we’ve seen less passion in actual love stories. At least you keep each other on your toes.”

Ariel flushed crimson, quickly rising to her feet. “Excuse me,” she muttered, grabbing her napkin and storming out of the hall.

The servants exchanged knowing glances once again. Gossip whispered softly among them the moment she was out of earshot:

“She’s the only one who dares talk back to him like that.”

“Did you see his face when she challenged him about the office?”

“I swear, the boss almost smiled.”

In the corridor, Ariel walked briskly, heels tapping sharply against the marble. Her chest rose and fell quickly. She hated him. Absolutely hated him. But her mind kept replaying his expression when she’d thrown his words back at him. The flicker of surprise. The crack in his armor.

It felt… exhilarating.

She shook her head violently. “No. He’s insufferable. A beast. Nothing more.”

But as she ascended the stairs to her chambers, her lips curved into the faintest smile—unconscious, uninvited.

And in the royal study, just as Carl passed by, his assistant caught him muttering under his breath.

“She really thinks she can run my office? …We’ll see about that.”

The assistant blinked. Did the boss just sound… impressed?

Carl disappeared into the hallway, his jaw set, his mind already plotting.

In Carl’s Quarters

Down the hall, Carl sat on the edge of his massive bed, running a hand through his hair. The walls of his room were lined with hunting trophies, swords, and portraits of his royal lineage, but tonight, none of that comforted him.

“Will I really marry that girl?” he muttered to himself. “I don’t think so.”

But then the memory of her smile in the car—quick, mischievous, and almost… charming—flashed uninvited into his mind.

He scowled. “No. Absolutely not.” He slapped his own chest lightly. “Get it together, Carl.”

Then, with a devilish grin, he stood. “Let’s go torture her a bit.”

---

An Unexpected Encounter

Carl padded silently down the hall, the flickering sconces casting long shadows on the polished floor. He pushed open the door to Ariel’s room, ready to tease her.

But the room appeared empty.

“Ariel?” he called quietly.

The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom.

Carl smirked. “Perfect,” he whispered. He leaned casually against the doorframe, waiting.

The bathroom door creaked open, and a swirl of steam rolled out. Ariel stepped into view, adjusting the towel wrapped around her. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, and she was too busy securing the fabric to notice him at first.

When she finally did, she froze mid-step—her eyes widening in pure horror.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. In her shock, her towel slipped just a fraction, and she fumbled to grab it.

Ariel screamed—a sharp, startled sound that echoed through the chamber. She clutched the towel to her chest, grabbed her wrapper from a hook, and bolted back into the bathroom in one breathless movement.

Carl, equally startled, felt his own heart hammer against his ribs.

“Ah!” he yelped—a sound not unlike her scream—before spinning on his heel and sprinting out of the room as if chased by a ghost.

The two royal troublemakers had vanished to their respective corners within seconds, leaving behind only the fading sound of their screams.

---

Downstairs in the Main Hall

The muffled noises had not gone entirely unnoticed. Two maids in the corridor outside exchanged wide-eyed looks.

“Did you hear that?” one whispered, her voice trembling between shock and amusement.

“It sounded like—” the other began, then cut herself off with a grin. “Oh, I think the prince and his bride-to-be are… settling in.”

They both stifled giggles before hurrying back to their duties.

---

In Their Separate Rooms

Ariel leaned against the bathroom door, cheeks burning. “What just happened?” she whispered to herself. “I can’t believe… Ugh!” She buried her face in her hands, groaning in embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Carl slammed his own bedroom door shut and paced the room. “Idiot, idiot, idiot,” he muttered, raking his hands through his hair. “Why did I go in there? And why… why did my heart feel like that again?”

He paused, staring at his reflection in the ornate mirror. His face was still flushed.

“Don’t you dare fall for her,” he told himself sternly. “She’s a fool. A gorgeous fool. But still a fool.”

---

The Palace Settles In

By the time the palace quieted for the night, both Carl and Ariel were still wide awake, replaying the moment in their heads. Neither could shake the strange mix of embarrassment and something softer—something they weren’t ready to name yet.

Far down the hall, Queen Margaret and Queen Isabella on call, Queen Margaret sipped tea by the fire, oblivious to the chaos their matchmaking had unleashed.

“They’re going to be perfect together,” Isabella said with a satisfied sigh.

Margaret chuckled. “Perfect—or perfectly disastrous.”

The fire crackled, and the palace fell silent, holding its breath for the next round of royal mischief.