The Crown

Chapter Forty Eight

Tobias stared in front of him in the black abyss he found himself in. A couple of feet ahead, he was face to face with Lauren. Her auburn hair rose from her body, spiraling around her as it transformed into an overwhelming fire, consuming them both whole.

With a grunt, Tobias awoke. He looked at the ceiling above him, realizing his surroundings and claiming himself down. The nightmare was always the same; always short, always to the point.

He titled his head and was met with the sudden appearance of Beatrice. She towered over him and smiled at his reaction, unaware he had become afraid.

"Goodmorning," she said cheerfully, bending down to press a kiss to him quickly. "We have such a packed day, I am surprised you are still sleeping."

Tobias furrowed his brows and slowly sat up, registering now that Beatrice was already dressed. She twirled in her dress in the mirror, admiring the way the fabric moved against the gravity.

He groaned, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to erase the memory of his dream.

She noticed this, walking over to him in concern. "Are you alright, Tobias?"

He looked away, guilt washing over him. The guilt of having spent the night with Lauren the very day Beatrice's coffin had been buried. A secret he still carried in his chest, as well as Lauren's threat she made to him the day he left her at the altar.

He was prepared to go to the grave with the events of that night.

"Yes, my love," He finally replied, smiling at her. "I suppose I had not slept as well I had hoped."

She sat beside him, flashing a toothy grin. "Well, you should regain some energy! Today is so exciting!"

Tobias chuckled at her excitement, encouraged to get ready for the day. He opened the bedroom door and told one of the guards to get his tailor before he went to the bathroom and washed.

Beatrice sat in one of the chairs as the tailor walked in, startled by her presence. She waved to him, but faltered at the sight of how confused he was. It seemed as if he did not know whether to nod, to bow, or to ignore her entirely. In the end, he settled on a combination of all three.

The prince stood in front of his mirrors as the tailor went to work, carefully preparing him for the photograph they would be participating in. Beatrice looked at her ring finger and smiled. Their engagement portrait.

The one that would be published in the kingdom's newspapers, officially announcing their engagement.

Finally ready, Tobias reached for her hand and helped her up. She smiled and hooked her hand around his arm, determined to continue to do so for the rest of time.

The couple walked down the stairs and into one of the larger drawing-rooms. Evelyn was already waiting inside, wanting to see how the photograph had turned out.

The photographer quickly took over, instructing the prince and his future consort to be seated. Tobias sat in a chair reserved specifically for Royal portraits, usually for paintings. A servant nearby carefully placed the prince's mantle on his shoulders, strategically making it cascade beside him and on the arm of the chair, pooling at the ground.

Beatrice sat in a chair that was slightly lower in height. A servant took her hand and placed it on his knee, making sure her ring was displayed to the camera. Other servants made sure her dress seemed at its grandest, toying with the positions for it to appear more fuller in the photograph.

Tobias glanced at her, even though he knew he should keep his position intact until the session was over. He gently placed his fingers under the palm of her hand that had the engagement ring, letting his thumb caress her hand above.