Scene: Cedric’s Proposal

The firelight in Cedric’s lair burned low, casting long shadows across the stone walls. Sofia sat at the worktable, carefully grinding herbs he had shown her how to use. The smell of lavender and sage filled the chamber, softening its gloom.

Cedric lingered near the window, Wormwood perched silently on his shoulder, watching the swan-shaped ripples dance on the moonlit lake. He had been pacing all evening, words chewing at him like restless crows.

Finally, he spoke.

“Sofia.”

She looked up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yes?”

He turned toward her, cloak swirling with the motion. His eyes were sharp, but his voice faltered ever so slightly. “I… have been considering our situation. Your situation.” He clasped his hands tightly. “You deserve more than this curse. More than this half-life.”

Her breath caught. She had longed for him to say as much, though she dared not hope. “And…?”

“And I believe there is a way to anchor your place here. Permanently.” His words came in a rush now, as though afraid he might lose them if he didn’t push them out. “If we were to be wed, it would bind our magic, our fates. The kingdom would recognize you as its rightful queen when I take the throne. No one could deny your place — no curse, no prince, no king.”

Sofia froze. For a moment, the air seemed too heavy to breathe. “Wed?” she whispered.

Cedric stepped closer, his unusual eyes fixed on hers, unreadable. “Yes. It would give you security. Power. Freedom.” His voice softened, almost against his will. “And I would not be… entirely displeased by the arrangement.”

She stood, heart twisting. “So that’s it. You want me for the kingdom. For the throne.”

He blinked, taken aback. “What else would I want?”

The words stung him as much as they stung her. He wasn’t sure why her expression cut so deeply — disappointment, sorrow, even a trace of anger.

“I thought…” She shook her head, laughing bitterly. “I thought maybe you were different. That you saw me as more than some prize to be claimed. But I was wrong.”

Cedric’s throat tightened. He wanted to say something — to explain the unexplainable ache that had nothing to do with crowns or thrones. But the words tangled and died in his chest.

“Sofia,” he managed, his voice quieter now, “it isn’t only the kingdom. I just… I don’t…” He stopped, jaw clenched, as if the truth was something too dangerous to name.

But Sofia had already turned away, tears pricking her eyes. “Please. Don’t.”

For the first time in years, Cedric found himself speechless. His hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach for her but not daring. Wormwood croaked quietly, breaking the silence.

Finally, Cedric straightened his shoulders, shoving the fragile thought down into the shadows of his heart. “Very well,” he said, his tone cool once more. “Forget I asked.”

He swept from the chamber in a rustle of dark fabric, leaving Sofia alone by the flickering fire, clutching the fragments of a hope she hadn’t realized she held.