"What does she have that I don't?"
"What does he see in her?"
"Was he… drunk? Was he set up?"
The palace clock struck midnight, and Princess Elara of Vareen was still awake.
The screen's cold glow painted her face pale, her eyes glassy and swollen from hours of tears.
For the tenth time, she pressed play.
The video began the same way it always did — a low murmur, soft laughter, a tangle of sheets. Then him.
Prince Adrian Vale.
Her fiancé.
The man the world called the golden heir.
Elara couldn't see the woman's face — the camera caught only flashes of her hair, her hands, her silhouette — but it didn't matter. Her attention was locked on his.
The way Adrian's eyes darkened when he leaned closer.
The way his lips curved into a faint, unguarded smile.
The gentleness in his touch, as though he worshipped the woman he held.
He had never looked at Elara that way.
Her breath hitched. She pressed a hand to her chest as if she could still stop the ache spreading inside.
He'd told her once — the night they'd made love — that she was his calm, his anchor. It had been after a royal dinner, both of them tipsy on champagne and obligation. They'd fallen into bed together, a perfect royal performance of passion.
But even then… his eyes had been distant.
Mechanical.
Like he was doing something expected, not something he wanted.
She'd ignored it. Pretended it meant something.
Now, watching the way he looked at her — the woman in the video — Elara realized it hadn't.
Her phone buzzed on the table.
Then again.
Then again.
Hundreds of notifications flooded in — messages from friends, journalists, strangers who didn't even know her. She didn't want to read them, but her hand moved anyway, shaking as she unlocked the screen.
She's too plain.
She probably bored him to death.
Poor girl thought she could satisfy a prince.
Maybe she wasn't enoughfor a royal.
Future queen? Not anymore.
Guess the perfect princess wasn't good enough in bed.
And the worst one —
He looked like he was enjoying it.
Her breath hitched. The words blurred as tears fell onto the screen.
She pressed play again.
Her maid, Tessa, hovered near the door, wringing her hands. "Your Grace… please. You shouldn't watch it again."
Elara didn't look up. "I need to understand."
"There's nothing to understand. It's filth spread by vultures—"
"No." Her voice cracked, sharp. "It's truth. Look at him, Tessa. He's smiling."
Tessa said nothing. The sound of whispered laughter from the video filled the room again, intimate and unbearable.
Her engagement had been more than love — it was legacy. The union between Alderia and Vareen meant stability, trade, and peace after generations of rivalry. She was meant to be queen beside him. Now she was a footnote in his scandal.
The door opened behind her.
"Enough."
Her father's voice sliced through the room like a blade.
King Alden of Vareen filled the doorway, regal in posture, eyes colder than the winter sea. A man built for politics.
Elara rose quickly, smoothing her dress, wiping at her eyes. "Father—"
"Don't." His tone silenced her. He looked once at the paused image on the screen — Adrian's face, frozen mid-touch — then back at his daughter. "You are to end this farce immediately."
Her lips parted. "End—? The engagement?"
"There is no engagement," Alden said. "Not anymore. The council met tonight. The Vale family has shamed their name beyond repair. Vareen will not bind itself to disgrace."
Elara shook her head slowly. "You can't—this was meant to unite our kingdoms—"
"It was meant to secure peace," he snapped. "But peace cannot be built on scandal. The world is laughing, Elara. At him. At us."
Her vision blurred. "Father, please—"
"You will issue a statement by dawn. Something dignified. Regretful, but resolute. Say you were deceived. Say you end it by choice."
Elara laughed bitterly. "A statement? What should I say? That my royal fiancé can't keep it in his pants? That the woman in his bed isn't me?"
"Do you even care what I lost?" she choked out.
King Alden paused, but didn't face her. "You lost a man who could not value you.
When he left, the silence felt heavier than before.
Elara sank to the floor, the folds of her gown spreading like a broken halo. On the screen, Adrian's face remained frozen — that same unguarded smile. She hated it. She loved it. She wanted to smash the screen and still keep watching.
The room tilted. Her heart pounded in her ears.
She pressed play again, tears streaking down her cheeks.
The woman in the video moaned softly — not loud, not vulgar, but real. And in Adrian's voice, Elara heard something she'd never heard before. Warmth. Affection. Maybe even love.
She clutched her chest as a sob tore free. "It meant nothing to him," she whispered. "The night we spent together… it meant nothing."
By sunrise, King Alden's official decree was everywhere.
A public letter, sealed with the royal crest of Vareen:
"The House of Vareen formally dissolves the union between our daughter, Princess Elara, and His Highness Prince Adrian Vale of Alderia. This decision follows grave breaches of honor unbecoming of royal conduct. May both kingdoms seek clarity and dignity in separate peace."
The moment the letter went live, the news spread like wildfire.
Screens lit up across both nations. Hashtags multiplied by the hour.
#RoyalBetrayal
#AlderiaShamed
#TheBrokenAlliance
Anchors spoke in solemn tones. Commentators speculated. Memes flooded the internet.
"The peace treaty is in ruins."
"Trade negotiations between Alderia and Vareen have frozen."
"Alderia's stock market fell seven percent by noon."
"The royal family has refused to comment."
At the Alderian Palace, council members argued behind closed doors while the King and Queen sat in cold silence.
The heir who was meant to bring unity had brought the nation to its knees.