I’m Not Sorry But The Prince Will Marry Me Anyway

There is a universal truth that transcends all eras and social classes:
When a caregiver says, "We need to talk," it usually translates to, "This will take a long time, I’ll do all the talking, and you’ll just sit quietly and listen."
Naturally, children don’t have the right to refuse such invitations, so Tristan obediently sat at the tea table. In front of him sat a cup of tea he had no intention of drinking, while his throat was already filled with lemonade.

“What’s the matter, Mother?” he asked.
“It’s nothing serious, so don’t be nervous. I just wanted to tell you how delighted I was that you invited Doris for the first dance today,” the Queen said with a serene smile.
“...Really? That made you that happy?”

“Well, my expectations have been low. You’ve ignored your fiancée for five years, haven’t you? Especially this year, when you openly pursued Lady Maria as soon as the season began. I was beginning to think you had decided to break things off with the Redfield family.”
“…”
Was she saying this knowingly or unknowingly? Tristan lifted his teacup, masking his bewildered expression as he replied, “I didn’t realize you’d be so pleased. But wasn’t it you, Mother, who handed me off to Miss Meyer as a dance partner just when I was about to invite my fiancée?”

“I couldn’t let a debutante be humiliated, could I? Besides, there were plenty of other opportunities for you to dance with your fiancée after that.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t? Why not?”

“She got injured.”
The Queen’s wide eyes narrowed sharply, and Tristan let out an exasperated sigh.
“That dimwit Arthur stepped on her feet three times while dancing with her. Doris was limping long after the music stopped.”

“Oh, my.”
“That oaf could very well be a bear disguised as a human, and I wouldn’t be surprised. In fact, I should turn him into a rug and send it to the Earl’s estate so my fiancée can walk on something soft for a while.”
Damn it. Even the thought of the bear rug didn’t help him cool down.

What kind of idiot dances without knowing proper steps? And Doris, though not a skilled dancer herself, must have found it impossible to avoid those elephantine feet. How much pain must she have silently endured, too polite to even scream?
The Queen took a leisurely sip of tea before asking, “Since the young Duke made it home alive, I assume Doris’s injury wasn’t too serious?”
“I never said I wanted to kill him. If her injury had been severe, her chaperone would’ve raised a fuss. Later, I saw her walking around, albeit with a slight limp.”
Between dessert tables, mostly.

“Hmm, you seem to have observed quite a lot.”
“Well, she is my fiancée. If you wish, I’ll ask her to dance again at the next ball.”
“‘If I wish’? Do you not have any desire to dance with her as one human being to another?”

Tristan hesitated, caught off guard by the question.
Do I want to voluntarily dance with her? With that boring woman?
Even today, despite it being a royal ball, she had dressed as if she were heading out for a casual stroll. Did she really believe such simplicity suited her best? He couldn’t deny that the delicate feathered headpiece she wore drew attention to the elegant lines of her forehead and nose, giving her a subtle grace. But such details only mattered to someone familiar with her usual plain appearance. If she intended to impress Arthur, this wouldn’t have been enough. Doris had been quietly beautiful today, like a pearl-adorned lily. But probably only Tristan had noticed.

“Tristan, answer me.”
“Well… she’s not entirely without charm. I’ll try to find more joy in approaching her next time. No matter what anyone says, she is my fiancée.”
He skillfully mixed truth with a touch of falsehood.

There was no point in blurting out an outright lie like, “I’m in love with my fiancée, actually.” That would never work.
For now, it was safer to reassure his mother by showing respect toward Doris while discreetly extending his reach toward Maria in the background. That was the safest route to Paladin.
The Queen smiled.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
However, she didn’t set down her teacup. There was still more she wanted to discuss.
As Tristan considered what her next question might be, the Queen gazed down at the edge of her saucer and slowly began to speak.

“Do you know why the Redfield family’s proposal was accepted five years ago?”
“I heard it was because the Earl of Redfield played a crucial role in resolving the Tetta Strait dispute.”
That’s what he had been told—that the Earl had helped resolve a national conflict involving the salvage of a sunken cargo ship near a maritime boundary.

The Queen nodded faintly.
“That was the official reason.”
“‘Official’? Are you saying there was another reason?”

"A marriage proposal stemming from a single cargo ship dispute wasn’t exactly a boast-worthy origin for an engagement," Tristan thought. And now, to hear that even this wasn’t the real reason?
“Was there something else behind it?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.
“The main dish,” the Queen began with a meaningful pause, “was the matter of the Blue Atrium estate.”

This was something he hadn’t considered at all.
The estate, lacking a legitimate heir, was expected to revert to the royal family after the current lord’s passing and would eventually be assigned to Tristan. The Queen delved into the story.
“The lord of Blue Atrium was believed to have no children… but it turns out he fathered an illegitimate son with a maid over a decade ago. A son, no less.”

At this scandalous opening, Tristan nearly dropped his teacup. And yet, it was only the beginning.
“To preserve his honor, the lord expelled the maid and her son. However, when years passed without him having any children with his wife, he faced losing the estate to the crown. Desperate, he began searching for his illegitimate son.”
“A foolish gamble,” Tristan remarked.

An illegitimate child couldn’t inherit an estate.
The only way to resolve this was either to claim the maid had been his lawful wife all along or to assert that the child was, in fact, the legitimate heir. Both options were absurd, though the latter seemed slightly more plausible with enough fabricated evidence and convoluted explanations.
“The wife appeared willing to turn a blind eye to her husband’s infidelity,” the Queen continued. “The only remaining task was to locate the child and prepare him to become the heir. The illegitimate son, who was 17 at the time, was found in a neighboring estate, working as a mercenary after the death of his mother.”

“Hmm,” Tristan murmured, already predicting the rest of the tale.
“The son likely welcomed the opportunity to transform his life. The first act of the drama began with the son filing a paternity suit against the lord. To stage the trial properly, they even prepared false witnesses. But…”
The Queen’s voice trailed off. The conclusion was obvious.

“We instructed the Earl of Redfield to stop the trial. His method was simple. One month before the trial date, the Earl hired the mercenary company to work on a maritime dispute in the Tetta Strait, effectively stranding them on an island. Then, he extended their contract.”
“So the illegitimate son remained stuck on the island until the trial date?” Tristan asked.
“Exactly.”

“Ha! If it were me, I’d have swum off the island! Imagine losing everything just because you couldn’t give up a single mercenary contract.”
“Well, as the plaintiff failed to appear, the trial was dismissed. And, to tie up loose ends, the Earl later tasked the mercenary company with taking the son far away. The rest is as you know.”
Finally, Tristan understood why the Earl of Redfield, whose only valuable asset at the time was his second daughter, had been able to negotiate a marriage alliance with the royal family.

“So this engagement was a bribe to silence the Earl about the lengths we went to in securing the Blue Atrium estate.”
“And if the royal family had refused the proposal?” Tristan asked. “Could the Earl have retrieved the son and caused trouble over the estate?”
“It would be impossible to make the son the legitimate heir now,” the Queen said with a small shake of her head. “But the Earl could certainly stir up rumors—claiming the royal family employed underhanded methods to secure the estate. That would create enough headaches for us.”

“Hmm.”
The Queen leaned back slightly. “The Earl isn’t the type to resort to such unsavory tactics. Still, nothing in this world is ever 100%. That’s why you, the primary beneficiary of the estate, were engaged to the Earl’s daughter.”
“….”

The abrupt engagement five years ago now made perfect sense. It had been such a transparent arrangement.
“Why are you telling me this only now?”
“You were young then,” the Queen replied calmly. “I was worried you’d rebel, saying something like, ‘I refuse to have my marriage dictated by a plot to secure some land. I’ll give up the estate instead!’”

“I can’t deny that,” Tristan admitted.
“I’m relieved you’ve finally begun to accept your fiancée,” the Queen said, her face lighting up with a smile. “The Blue Atrium estate suits you perfectly. The farmland is adequately fertile, and the mountains are balanced in proportion. The people are gentle by nature, so you’ll find it easy to govern.”
Her expression was one of serene satisfaction, like a mother handing a child a piece of candy. Tristan forced a smile as he gazed at her.

By now, he was used to being lovingly underestimated by his parents.
But one question lingered in his mind:
Do they know about the monsters in Blue Atrium?

From reports and budget proposals relayed by his subordinates, Tristan had inferred the presence of monsters in the estate. His parents, overseeing the entire kingdom, might not be aware of such specific issues yet.
If he brought this up, they might decide, “Blue Atrium is too much for you to handle,” and assign him a different estate.
…And the engagement might be annulled as a result.

He wouldn’t even need to involve Maria. It could all be undone so easily.
“Mother,” Tristan began. “I have a question.”