Fated Hearts: Reborn to be His Duchess

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Second Thread of Destiny

"If there is someone you care for, say it. I would hear it from your own lips."

The King’s voice carried across the hall from the raised dais—measured, authoritative, yet touched with an unusual gentleness.

Elysia Hartwell stood frozen.

In that instant, she understood.

She had returned.

Reborn into the year she turned seventeen.

Today was the royal banquet, outwardly a simple family gathering. In truth, everyone present knew why she had been summoned.

The King intended to decide her marriage personally.

Elysia parted her lips, but no sound came. Emotion tightened around her throat until breathing itself became difficult.

"You need not be afraid," the King said when she failed to answer, his tone softening further. "The Hartwell family served Aveanlor loyally for generations. Your father, brothers, and uncles all died defending the realm. Now only you remain."

A shadow crossed his aged features.

"I will see your future secured myself. Whoever you wish to marry, I shall grant it."

Even after two lifetimes, the mention of Hartwell Manor still ached like an old wound.

Aveanlor had not stood long as a kingdom. Less than a century old, surrounded by enemies and weakened by unrest, its foundations had always been fragile.

Last winter, the horsemen of the Northern Reaches shattered the border defenses.

The Hartwell family had marched north at the crown’s command.

Elysia still remembered the day they left.

Her father laughed as he adjusted his armor. Her brothers teased her relentlessly until she nearly chased them from the courtyard herself. Her uncles promised to return before spring.

They did return.

In coffins.

Blood-soaked cloaks covered bodies too broken to recognize.

After that, Hartwell Manor fell apart piece by piece. Her aunts and sisters-in-law either remarried or returned to their birth families. Her mother, consumed by grief, died before the year’s end.

The once-vibrant estate became unbearably silent.

Only Elysia remained.

The King called this banquet a family gathering, but everyone understood its true purpose.

It was compensation.

A reward for the orphaned daughter of fallen heroes.

A soft laugh suddenly broke the solemn atmosphere.

"Why ask at all, Father?" a young woman teased lightly. "Everyone already knows Elysia is hopelessly in love with Vaelen."

Princess Sylrienne Drakemont.

The King’s favorite daughter.

The same words.

Exactly the same as her previous life.

Back then, Elysia had blushed furiously at the mention of the Crown Prince. She had lowered her head shyly while the King laughed in delight.

"Then it is settled," he had declared. "We shall choose an auspicious date for the wedding."

At seventeen, Elysia truly believed devotion could soften even the coldest heart.

She poured herself into that marriage.

Every robe, every ceremony, every detail of the Crown Prince’s household—she handled them personally, hoping that if she tried hard enough, Vaelen might one day care for her.

He never did.

On their wedding night, he refused even to touch her.

He would not allow her near the bed.

By dawn, Elysia still sat curled against the cold stone floor, fully dressed beneath the dim candlelight.

No affection.

No intimacy.

No heir.

Over time, even the King and Queen became disappointed with the lack of an heir. The servants within the Crown Prince’s residence followed their masters’ example as well.

Disrespect became routine.

Mockery became frequent.

Elysia endured all of it in silence.

Until the day she overheard Vaelen speaking with one of his companions.

Only then did she realize he had known everything.

Every humiliation.

Every slight.

Every cruelty.

And he had allowed it.

"She forced me into this marriage," Vaelen had said coldly. "What she suffers now is no more than what she deserves."

His companion hesitated before replying carefully, "But Lady Elysia is beautiful, and she genuinely cares for you. Do you truly feel nothing for her?"

Vaelen did not even pause.

"She disgusts me."

The memory still felt like a blade through her chest.

She forced him?

Was that truly what he believed?

The marriage had been the King’s decree from the very beginning.

If he never wanted it, why had he stayed silent?

Why punish her instead?

In the end, everyone benefited from the arrangement except Elysia herself.

The King earned praise for honoring loyal subjects.

The Crown Prince gained a virtuous reputation.

Only Elysia paid the price.

The grief had hollowed her out from within.

At last, she went to Vaelen and bowed before him formally, requesting a dissolution of their marriage.

For the first time in years, he reacted violently.

Without warning, he hurled a porcelain cup at her.

It struck her temple hard enough to split the skin.

Blood streamed down her face.

For a brief moment, Vaelen looked almost startled—as though he regretted it.

Then his expression hardened once more.

"There’s no need to pretend to be pitiful."

Still, he refused the annulment.

Days later, without explanation, he suddenly agreed.

On the night before their separation became official, Elysia stood before a bronze mirror and barely recognized herself.

She had married at seventeen.

Four years later, she looked like a ghost.

Thin. Exhausted. Hollow-eyed.

Yet for the first time in years, she finally felt free.

Then she fell asleep.

And woke once more at seventeen.

Perhaps even heaven had pitied her.

"Oh?" the King said thoughtfully. This pulled Elysia back to the present.

"So she likes Vaelen?"

"Yes," Sylrienne replied with a playful smile. "Elysia adores him. She used to bake pastries for him herself. Once she burned her hand doing it and insisted it didn’t hurt at all."

Sylrienne laughed softly.

"Though I ended up eating most of them."

Around the hall, several nobles chuckled.

"And recently," the princess continued, "when Vaelen lost an important keepsake, Elysia even came to ask me what designs he preferred. She wanted to replace it for him personally."

As she spoke, Vaelen’s expression darkened visibly.

To him, these gestures were nothing but an unwanted burden.

Guests throughout the hall turned toward Elysia with open curiosity.

Some amused.

Some eager for scandal.

Another girl might have felt humiliated.

Elysia felt nothing at all.

Compared to the suffering of her previous life, this was insignificant.

The King laughed warmly. "You grew up together. Affection between you is only natural. In that case, I shall personally arrange the betrothal—"

"Your Majesty."

Elysia’s clear voice cut cleanly through the hall.

The laughter faded instantly.

The King looked at her in surprise. "Hmm?"

Her eyes were faintly red, but her expression remained calm.

This time, she did not look at Vaelen even once.

Stepping forward, she lowered herself into a deep formal bow.

"It is true that I grew up beside His Highness," she said steadily. "But I have only ever regarded him with respect. I have never harbored improper feelings toward him."

Silence fell across the banquet hall.

Vaelen’s brows drew together sharply.

The King frowned slightly. "Are you certain?"

Elysia already knew he would not let the matter rest unless she named someone else.

Still bowed, she answered without hesitation.

"I have long admired the Duke of Draevenor."

Her voice remained perfectly composed.

"If I may become his wife, I would have no regrets in this life."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!