The Male Lead isn't Following the Script!-Chapter 301: The Ceremony
In the grand hall, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense as the minutes ticked by without any sign of Cassian. The nobility assembled, their whispered conversations creating an undercurrent of unease.
Annora stood at the altar, her radiant gown shimmering under the lights, but her expression betrayed her inner turmoil. Each passing moment without Cassian’s arrival felt like a dagger to her pride.
The assembled guests exchanged skeptic glances, their murmurs growing louder. The absence of the groom was not just a personal slight to Annora but a public spectacle that threatened to tarnish the reputations of the royal family.
In noble society, where appearances were paramount, such an incident was nothing short of scandalous.
Annora’s mind raced. She had been meticulously groomed for this union, understanding the political alliances it would forge and the power it would consolidate. Cassian’s unexplained absence was not just a personal affront but a potential political disaster.
She felt the weight of countless eyes upon her, each whisper amplifying her humiliation. Her hands trembled slightly, and she clenched them into fists, willing herself to maintain composure.
Just as the whispers threatened to overwhelm the hall, a figure moved. Benedict, the Northern Duke, stepped forward with a determined expression. The room fell into a hushed silence, all eyes now fixed on him. His actions were unexpected, and the air was thick with anticipation.
Benedict approached the altar with measured steps, his gaze unwavering. He turned to the officiant, a man of considerable stature and authority, and addressed him directly. "Begin the ceremony," he commanded, his voice echoing through the hall.
The Emperor and Empress, seated prominently, exchanged startled glances. This deviation from the planned proceedings was unprecedented. The Emperor began to rise, his face a mask of confusion and concern.
Just what was this man doing?
Before he could intervene, a figure intercepted him. It was the Imperial Concubine’s father. How dare he interfere and try to block him?
He placed a gentle yet firm hand on the Emperor’s arm, signaling for discretion.
Leaning in, he whispered, "Your Majesty, this is the only way to preserve dignity and order. Allowing Benedict to proceed will salvage the situation. Moreover, aligning the Holy Temple with the Northern Duke through this union strengthens our position. Benedict’s actions, though impulsive, serve a greater purpose."
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed as he processed the counsel. He was acutely aware of the Northern Duke’s influence and the strategic advantage such an alliance would bring.
While Benedict had never shown overt ambition for the throne, his passionate nature was well-known. The Emperor recognised that Benedict’s motivations were likely driven by emotion rather than political machination.
As much as he wanted the Saintess to marry Cassian, right now, saving face was more important.
With a subtle nod, the Emperor signalled his acquiescence. The hall remained silent, the weight of the moment pressing upon all present.
The officiant, sensing the unspoken approval, cleared his throat and began the ceremony. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Lady Annora and Lord Benedict..."
Annora turned to Benedict, her eyes searching his face for answers. He met her gaze with a reassuring smile, his hand reaching out to hers. Though the circumstances were unexpected, there was sincerity in his demeanour, but she did not care.
This was not going according to plan, and even if Benedict offered to marry her... It was no less than an insult. He did not like her... He would not like her if not for the fact that he was under the control of forbidden magic.
As the ceremony progressed, the initial shock began to wane, replaced by a collective understanding of the political pragmatism at play. The nobility, ever attuned to the shifting tides of power, recognised the strategic manoeuvring and the preservation of alliances.
They had to accept, they were in no position to question it.
Of all the people, the happiest had to be the Imperial Concubine’s father. The Duke now had the backing of the Holy Temple, and he backed his grandchild. The throne would be given to the third prince, he was sure of it.
The silence in the grand hall was suffocating. The officiant, his voice solemn but steady, lifted his hands slightly and declared, "You may kiss the bride."
All eyes turned to the altar, where Benedict and Annora stood. One looked happy, the other looked desperate.
He stepped closer to her, gently cupping her face in his gloved hands, his eyes fixed on hers as he leaned.
Annora, however, was seething beneath her veil. Her cheeks flushed not from embarrassment, but from rage. Cassian had not come. He had humiliated her in front of the empire, left her standing alone at the altar like a discarded pawn.
Two lifetimes! TWO LIFETIMES! And he abandoned her in both. Even when he was in her control, he abandoned her... Her nails were already digging into her hand, and now they drew blood.
She refused to look at Benedict. She kept her chin high, her lips set in a straight line. As he leaned in, she clenched her fists at her sides.
There was no affection in the kiss that followed. It was cold, mechanical. A necessary act for the sake of appearances. But inside, Annora was on fire.
The crowd erupted into polite applause. Some of them kept looking at the Emperor to gauge his reaction.
The absence of the Crown Prince had cast a long, dark shadow over what should have been a union of political glory and divine blessing.
As soon as the officiant stepped back and the crowd began to murmur, the Emperor rose from his throne with violent force. His golden robes billowed behind him as he stormed down the centre of the hall, his face dark with fury.
"Find Cassian!" He roared at the royal knights stationed along the walls. "Search every room, every corridor, every nook and cranny! I want him found NOW!"
The knights saluted, scrambling to obey the furious command, armour clanging as they sprinted out of the hall. The first prince’s future looked bleak to everyone. But was it really?
