The morning sun streamed through the wide windows of the dining hall, casting soft shadows across the long table. The quiet rustling of servants preparing for the meal, the clink of silver, it was a scene that, on any other day, might have felt serene, even comforting.
But today, the air was thick with tension, hanging over the table like an invisible storm cloud. Alexander sat at the head of the table, his posture straight despite the constant challenge of his wheelchair. His eyes, usually so controlled, were narrowed, and his jaw set tight. He had spent the early part of the morning in his study, poring over reports and papers, his thoughts sharp but distant.
Beside him, Sophia sat with a deliberate calmness, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her mind, however, was anything but still. After last night's conversation, the weight of the decision to act in public had settled like a heavy stone in her chest. The plan was in motion, but the emotional toll of pretending to falter in front of the household was gnawing at her.
She had already taken the first steps... a quiet withdrawal from the morning's routine, a subtle dismissal of her usual tasks, and the smallest hints of coldness toward Alexander. It was not easy, but it had to be done. She had to create the illusion of dissonance between them. The servants needed to see their relationship weakening, or the rumors would fail to take root.
As the meal began, the servants went about their tasks, but their eyes flicked nervously between the prince and consort. They could feel the shift, the undercurrent of tension that pulsed between the two, though none of them dared to speak it aloud.
The conversation had been awkwardly silent at first. Alexander stared down at his plate, poking at the food without enthusiasm. Sophia's gaze, however, wandered over the dining hall, scanning the faces of the servants as they moved about, reading the quiet ripple of their thoughts.
That was when the first spark of the rift was ignited.
Alexander's eyes flicked toward her, and in an instant, a flicker of frustration crossed his face.
"I told you before, Sophia," he said, his voice suddenly sharp. "I don't need you to control every detail of my life. Especially not my meals."
The words landed like a slap, echoing through the quiet hall. The servants froze. A small gasp echoed from one of the maids, and another dropped a serving tray, her hands trembling. The tension in the air thickened, suffocating everything in its path.
Sophia's heart skipped a beat. She had expected this, the rift needed to show, to be seen, but hearing it aloud stung more than she had anticipated. Still, she remained composed, allowing the icy calm of her exterior to hold.
"I'm not trying to control you, Your Highness," she said, her voice steady but carrying an edge. "I'm trying to make sure you get what you need. For your health."
"Not everything is about health," he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "I know what I can and cannot do. I'm not a child."
The words hit with brutal force, louder than they needed to be. His anger was palpable, a crack in the armor he had so carefully built.
Sophia could feel the small tremor of shock running through the servants, their thoughts echoing through her like a chorus of fear. She could hear the young maid's thoughts clearly, the one who had been tasked by the imperial concubine to watch their relationship, waiting for cracks to form.
Finally, it's happening. The prince and consort are starting to argue. This is just the beginning. Now it will be easier to tamper with his medicine, and I can get in the good books of the concubine. I'll be rewarded for this, I'm sure of it.
Sophia's thoughts collided with the maid's like a blade cutting through silk. She had anticipated this, the spies were always watching, waiting for a moment like this. The maid's task was clear, to make the prince's life more difficult. But the thought of how easy it would be to manipulate the situation, to twist the seeds of discord into something darker, made Sophia's stomach churn. She did not want to become a pawn in this larger game, but she knew there was no way out now. The plan had already begun.
At the same time, Alexander's words stung, sharper than she had expected. His frustration, his inability to see her concern, his refusal to allow her to help ...it was all too much. But she had to play her part.
She leaned forward slightly, keeping her gaze steady as she replied, her voice icy but laced with the faintest hint of vulnerability, "If you don't want me to help, then stop complaining when things go wrong. You can't have it both ways, Your Highness."
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the servants remained still, unsure of how to proceed.
The tension between them crackled in the air, the storm they had both been quietly building now fully unleashed. Alexander's face was set in hard lines, but there was a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes, the first crack of doubt he had shown in front of her.
"Do not tell me how to handle my own life, Sophia," he muttered, his voice low but dangerous. "You cannot control everything."
Sophia stared at him, her breath catching for a moment, and the world seemed to narrow into that single point. The rising tension in her chest, the frustration at the situation, the desire to scream... it all came together in a single, crystallizing thought.
This is it. The show has to go on.
She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, her sudden movement making the room tremble with her authority.
"I am not trying to control you," she said, her voice suddenly loud and unwavering. "But you make it impossible for me to do anything. I will leave you to your meals, Your Highness. Perhaps they will suit you better this way."
With a final glare, she stormed from the table, her mind a whirl of frustration, but also of something colder, the realization that this had to be done.
As she passed through the servants, she could hear their whispered thoughts, the fear and excitement building in their hearts. They knew what they had witnessed. The cracks were showing, and soon, it would all fall apart.
By midday, the tension had seeped through the entire household. Sophia made sure to maintain the act, responding to everyone with an air of cool detachment. The servants who had once greeted her with respect now avoided her gaze, unsure of what to make of the subtle shift in her demeanor.
Her temper was frayed, her thoughts clouded by the rift between her and Alexander. But she had to keep it up. The more frustration, the more anger, it was the only way to sell the illusion. And every glance from a servant, every nervous shuffle, reminded her that they were all watching, listening, ready to report back to their masters.
By the time the afternoon had passed, Sophia could feel the weight of the game pressing down on her. The lies had begun, the performance of fracture, and she was playing her role as best as she could. But it did not come without cost.
As evening came and dinner was served, the distance between her and Alexander had grown. They barely exchanged words, their relationship now a fragile façade of politeness, where once it had been warm.
The servants saw it all. Their minds were alive with speculation, and Sophia could hear every thought, the maid who had overheard their argument, now thinking of how to tamper with Alexander's medicine, the thoughts of another servant wondering why the consort seemed so distant.
Sophia's mood was dark, her thoughts fractured by the tension, but she could not afford to let the cracks show. She had to stay focused, stay cold, for this plan to succeed.
As they retired for the night, the game was only beginning.