Mero is forcibly led into a garden, an artificial tranquility that barely masks the trap closing around him. The young girl, now dressed in a wedding gown, steps toward him with a smile that seems straight out of a fairy tale, but her eyes shine with a cold gleam, full of defiance and manipulation. It’s in this moment that he understands. The gown is not just a dress, it’s a symbol, a forced commitment, a bond he never chose but seems to have accepted unknowingly.
Terror seizes him, as violent as a punch to the stomach. His mind spins, a wave of anxiety overtakes him at the thought of this imposed marriage, a union with a stranger he never desired, in a world he doesn't understand. Every flower in the garden, every blade of grass under his feet now seems tainted with duplicity. What once seemed like a peaceful place, a sanctuary, becomes a stage, a cruel theater where he is nothing more than an actor trapped in a role he never wanted to play.
The young girl steps forward slowly, a barely perceptible smile on her lips. Her eyes scan him, observing every reaction, every twitch of his muscles, every hesitation. Her intentions are clear, far clearer than anything Mero could understand. He is trapped, captive in a situation where his gestures, his words, are being meticulously watched. He feels resignation settling in, but a flame of survival instinct continues to burn. Escaping seems impossible, but a small part of him, a dark corner of his mind, refuses to accept this failure. Perhaps there is a flaw in this system, an escape from this relentless reality. But each look he meets, each word from the young girl, erases this hope little by little.
The men accompanying him do nothing, say nothing. They are nothing more than spectators in this power play, motionless and silent. One of them, taller, with a thick beard and eyes gleaming with satisfaction, steps toward Mero. His smile is a promise of pain, a malicious enjoyment of the situation Mero finds himself in. The second man, frailer, all nerves, clutches a book to his chest as if praying with his whole soul. Mero realizes he is not alone in his fear. This second man, too, is trapped, caught in a story he seems to not want to be part of.
"A marriage..." says the bearded man in a gravelly voice, a laugh escaping his lips like a barely veiled threat. "A little prince, a beautiful princess... The union of two families, you know… What that could mean." His words fall heavily, each one seeming to mark the end of any possibility of resistance.
Mero freezes, caught in the vice of customs he hasn’t understood, rules that are beyond him. The frail man next to the bearded one looks at him furtively, his terror palpable, but he says nothing. He seems to be there out of duty, as powerless as Mero. The situation seems inevitable, each gesture, each word bringing him closer to the commitment he fears.
"No escape, little prince," the bearded man says again with a sneering smile, his eyes on Mero as though studying him, savoring every movement. "You are safe here. No turning back, no freedom for you."
A cold shiver runs down Mero’s spine. The prospect of what this man means by "safe" gives rise to a dull panic in him. He feels like an insect caught in a web, each movement only sinking him deeper into this invisible prison. The bearded man seems to relish every moment of this imposed submission. The frail man, for his part, becomes increasingly invisible in the shadow of the dominant one. He grips his book like a talisman, but the worry shines in his eyes.
The young girl, with a gaze that oscillates between control and impatience, takes a step forward, as if waiting for a reaction, as if all of this is just a game to her. But for Mero, every second that passes brings him closer to a fate he did not choose.
The realization strikes him with the brutality of a sledgehammer. The gestures that seemed innocent, the little attentions he failed to decipher, were promises of engagement, silent vows he accepted without understanding their meaning. The stone in the fabric, the flower in his hands, symbols of a commitment he never wanted.
The words of the young girl fall on him like a death sentence, and her smile becomes a tangible threat. "You accepted my gifts," she says in a soft but relentless voice. "You are mine now. There is no going back."
The man with the beard smiled wider, relishing the terror he had instilled in Mero. "Customs, little prince," he murmured, "you don’t play with them. You agreed. It's a done deal."
Mero found himself caught in a web of power, a web whose full extent he did not understand. Every move, every word, trapped him further into a reality he could not escape. The young girl, now completely in control, watched him, waiting to see how he would react. The man with the beard seemed to triumph, but a part of Mero remained sharp, a part that refused to accept this submission. But for now, he was alone, ensnared in a world where every choice seemed like an illusion.
"The fate of little princesses and little princes," the girl added with a sigh, "is sometimes sealed long before they realize it."
Time passed, inevitably, and each second seemed to bury him deeper in this cruel trap. But deep within him, a faint hope continued to shine. He had not lost everything yet.
Mero, his heart racing, began his speech with palpable nervousness. His voice trembled slightly, but he put all the force of his conviction into it, hoping that his words would have the desired effect. The situation was tense; every syllable he spoke could seal his fate.
"Great pirate lord, it is not my intention to contest your customs or this marriage, but there is one detail you must take into account," he began, his words coming out hastily, as if he were trying to seize one last chance to escape. "In my country, a man cannot marry before the age of 17. If this is not the case, the marriage is declared null and void. So, if I marry today, no alliance can be recognized according to our customs."
He didn’t give the man time to react and continued on his momentum, his mind desperately seeking an escape. "Your daughter seems lovely, but I propose an engagement. However, I cannot offer this without the consent of my legal guardian, Master Antonin. And to prove my commitment, I have an ancestral seal."
His breath was ragged, his eyes fixed on the pirate man with the hope that he had sown doubt, given him a reason to reconsider. He knew that his fate depended on this conversation. The silence that followed his words was heavy, oppressive. He could almost feel the air freeze around him. He scrutinized the pirate lord's face, hoping to detect a glimmer of understanding, but his gaze remained as impenetrable as the ocean.
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After what felt like an eternity, the man with the thick beard burst into a deep, almost deliberate laugh, which echoed through the garden like a sinister refrain. His eyes gleamed with evident malice, and Mero felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The man straightened, crossed his arms, and after a moment of reflection that seemed to last a lifetime, he advanced toward Mero with a threatening slowness.
"Ah, little prince," he said, his voice soft, but the shadow of a threat clearly hanging in the air. "You want to play with the rules, don't you? You think your customs carry more weight than ours? But let me tell you something: even the most sacred customs can be broken when you know how to play with the right pieces."
He leaned slightly forward, watching the reactions of those around him, then straightened and cast a glance toward the girl in the shadows. His gaze was cold, difficult to interpret, but Mero felt a palpable pressure. The girl, though silent, seemed to be watching him closely, waiting for a reaction.
"Your customs... your ancestral seal..." the pirate lord continued, shaking his head as if rejecting the very idea. "I don’t care. But for now, you want an engagement? Well, you’ll have one. But know this, little prince: what you seek to protect here is your freedom. And freedom in this world comes at a price."
With a gesture, he signaled to the frail man holding the book. The other man slowly advanced and handed the volume to Mero. The expression in his eyes betrayed concern, as if he knew the true game was just beginning. His presence added yet another weight to this already heavy situation.
"I’ll give you time," the pirate lord continued, a teasing smile on his lips, "but remember, you’re here by my will. Every move you make now will be watched. If you truly want to prove that your commitment has value here, you’ll have to prove more than your worth to this island."
Mero, caught in this spider’s web, knew he hadn’t won yet, but he had gained time. The pirate lord slowly withdrew, a mocking smile on his lips, as the tension around Mero intensified. He still felt watched, every movement, every glance weighing on him. The rules of the game had just changed.
The situation was far from over. But in this apparent deadlock, a new path opened before him. The engagement was granted, but the trap was still firmly in place. Mero knew he had to navigate carefully and strategically, because freedom here only held value if he was willing to pay the price for it.
He lowered his eyes to the young girl, struggling against the dizziness threatening to overwhelm him. He knelt before her, taking her hand in his, and said in a calmer, more determined voice, looking her directly in the eyes:
"I do not desire your misfortune, and I submit to your customs. I give you my solemn promise to cherish you for the rest of my days. But please understand that my family will never accept a marriage unless I have reached the age of 17. You desire me, but be patient. Only my legal guardian can validate this engagement for my family."
The garden fell into a heavy silence, almost oppressive, as Mero’s words hung in the air, suspended like ivory shards in the mist. He emphasized the solemn promise of his commitment, while respecting the girl’s customs and highlighting the limits imposed by his family and his status. Every word, every gesture became a fragile balance between respect and strategy, a game where every movement could turn against him.
He extended a trembling but steady hand, attempting to honor the girl’s customs, while anchoring in his speech the unyielding reality of his own heritage. The tension was palpable, but a spark of determination pierced the glow of his eyes, a spark that might, perhaps, surprise those observing him.
The young girl remained silent, motionless, under his gaze. Her face remained impenetrable, a facade that gave nothing away, but a slight movement in her eyes hinted that she understood the depth of his gesture. The men around them, and especially the pirate lord, watched the scene with palpable curiosity, as if everyone was waiting for the other’s reaction.
The silence stretched on, heavy with meaning, until at last the young girl smiled. This smile, far from light, carried an enigmatic intensity, an unreadable gleam behind her eyes. She gently tilted her head before replying, her voice soft, but marked with quiet authority, betraying her undeniable pride.
"I will respect your customs. But remember, you are not in your own land. Here, everything is negotiated, everything is earned, and there is always a price to pay."
She then turned away, leaving the atmosphere charged with a new tension, full of promises and barely veiled threats. The pirate lord, his smile more predatory than ever, stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with an almost unhealthy pleasure. He gave the young girl an approving look before turning to Mero, his voice full of that same bittersweet threat.
"Well said, my daughter. Perhaps this little prince will finally understand what it means to be on our level."
He fixed Mero with a cold stare, weighing heavily on him like an anvil. "You’ve gained time, but know that everything has a price here. You have a promise to keep, and I plan to see how you will honor it."
The frail man, who had not spoken a word since the beginning, silently withdrew into the shadows. Mero then felt the noose tightening around him, slowly, imperceptibly, but inevitably. The engagement was just the beginning. The stakes were far greater than he had imagined, and each passing moment would be another test.
The young girl gave him one last glance, a barely perceptible smile brushing her lips, before retreating inside the house. The pirate lord, for his part, remained there, the shadow of his smile still hanging in the air, before disappearing as well, but not without leaving his scrutinizing gaze heavy on Mero’s shoulders.
Mero now found himself caught in a game whose rules remained unclear, and of which he seemed to have barely scratched the surface. He had played his card wisely, but he knew that the next chapter of the story would depend on his ability to navigate this uncertain sea. His next moves would be crucial, each decision weighing more heavily than ever.