The voices rang louder than any choir could muster. The arguing was harsher than the fighting that has echoed for decades. They all stood few feet apart, in fear of lashing out. The servants and guards stood still as stone, paralysed. The royals, tired with the pressure of the kingdom and the future, angry with exhaustion and each other, roared louder than any army in the five provinces.
“It is not your future to sell!” Rosaria stood face on to her parents, staring them down.
“Your future is the prosperity of this kingdom! And I will not stand for you selfishness!” King Alrond roared, his face redder then the blood spilt just outside his borders.
“Please Rosaria, please. This is for your kingdom, let us end the bloodshed that haunts us all. You are still our daughter, no matter which family your husband is,” the queens words sounded like a caring mothers, but her prominent belly held a different truth.
Rosaria’s gaze shifted between her parents eyes and her mothers belly. The iron dagger hidden under her skirts felt like a cold dead hand, reaching up to grasp her throat. She felt sick, her stomach churned worse than a thousand hurricanes. Her mother wretched tears from her eyes in an attempt to get her daughter to comply.
“Please Rosaria,” her soft hand reached out for her daughter. “You know how long all of the kingdoms have suffered, if we don’t end this now. We may never recover.”
Her eyes shone like a lake in the moonlight, dark blues with silver linings. Rosaria could see herself in its waters, knowing full well she will drown if she moves closer.
“Find another way. I am the future queen of this kingdom, my heart and body are not pawns in this chess game,” her words were cold and harsh as she moved further away from her mother. She would regret this later at night.
Her mothers eyes turned cold, the waters churning into a storm, “We have given you everything, you are princess with a future children would die for. You have no right to judge our actions.”
King Alrond stood there, watching as the battle between mother and daughter flared up. His body was tired from fighting battles, he would not enter this one. The locked gaze of the queen and her begrudgingly stubborn daughter was thicker than the walls bordering the kingdom. It went silent, the argument entered the eye of the storm. Any move could be fatal.
The queen inhaled slowly, “Rosaria, please, if you marry Prince Fredrick there will be no more war. There will be no more bloodshed and there will be no strain on the future. You are princess and you will rule when the time comes, just not this kingdom. You knew this since birth.”
Rosaria was quick to gather her thoughts and prepare for a defence, “I am the future queen of this kingdom and this kingdom alone. I would rather fight than marry that imbecile of a prince, he has no manners.”
“You are the one with no manners!” King Alrond was tired and angry now, “I will not have you speak in such a foul way of another royal! You are our daughter, and you will do whatever we say. You will obey our orders, for the good of the kingdom, for our future!”
Rosaria’s tongue lodged in her throat, her eyes wide but before she could fire back her mother chipped in.
“Rosaria, your father is right, you will obey our orders. For our future and this kingdoms, you are loyal to it. As a princess, you are an object to your parents court and will listen dutifully. We will not loose you over a peace treaty,” her words were laced with malice, a song sung to a baby about a vile snake, the queen is not one to cross.
Rosaria rounded on her mother, ice blue throwing daggers into deep waters, “You lost me the second you saw me as an object.”
~*~
Rosaria ran through the stone halls and ornate staircases on pure instinct, her hand brushed the dagger hidden underneath her skirts. The guards outside her doors fumbled to open them, she gripped the iron handle and pushed through. Her rage was not one to tamper with. She flew over to the alcove in front of the wide windows on far side of her quarters. Throwing open the windows, she was glad the cold air stung her hot cheeks.
“What have I done to deserve such a horrid future?” She asked to no one, and as usual, no one answered.
She curled up on the stone sill, gazing at the silver moon amongst an inky black sky. Her hand slipped under her gown and pulled out the loved dagger. A small thin blade, reflecting the dark sky. The black handle decorated with rubies and gold, swirling to create roses along the hilt. She holds it gingerly in her slender fingers, counting the red drops. The sheath still cold on her thigh, leaving indents on her pale skin.
She remembers the day she got the dagger, on her 15th birthday, three years and twelve days ago. Her favourite knight, her favourite guard, her one and only friend had made it. His father was a blacksmith, it was his first creation and he gave it to her as a gift. His name was engraved onto the sheath, and now indented on her thigh.
“Robin,” she breathed into the cold night. “please come back. Come back home.” She knew he would not hear her, she knew he would not come back, she knew his lifeless body lay forgotten on a field.
She remembers his smile, his voice, and how he purposely tripped in training when he knew she was watching. He was the first person to treat her like a person, and not some godly creature. He would help her sneak out at night, teach her how to fight with swords, axes and fists, how to shoot an arrow from a bow and fitted her armour. She misses his presence, knowing he was at the door during the night made her rest easy.
The war raged on outside the boarders, and she knew the unavoidable would arise. He would leave to fight the first chance he got, eager to show his pride and duty to the royal family. After weeks of staring out the stained glass windows and restless nights, she knew he would not come back. She knew he would have fought till his last breath.
She gripped the daggers hilt tightly, her rage boiled inside her. The anger from knowing Robyn is gone, the anger of her parents unloved orders, the anger of not being free. It boiled and grew inside her, a hot and scorching blaze ready to burn. She flipped the dagger between her fingers, a deadly dance of flickering silver.
There was a war outside the castle, but there was war inside the halls, both deadly and brutal. She had to take her steps carefully, one wrong move could mean her downfall.
She readied herself for bed, not bothering to call for maids. Her mind bringing up tactics, and tearing them apart bit by bit. Making sure her next moves have no faults. Settling herself on her quilted bed, her dagger in arms reach, she felt lonely. Knowing Robyn would never come home, her dreams were lifeless.
~*~
She woke to the sounds of maids shuffling around her room, she lifted her dagger off the nightstand and dropped it behind it, knowing the maids will tell her mother if they see it. She forced herself out of her bed, mentally preparing herself for the day before the maids pulled her to her vanity.
The maids, as kind as they were, they were not gentle. Combing her hair harshly and braiding it too tight it pulled her face taunt. Her blood red hair matched the kingdoms colours, the insignia on all the flags, shields, capes and armour. A white owl with wings spread on a blood red sky. The emblem of the Savwen Province. The bird she thought would be her saviour is now her enemy.
The maids distracted her by powdering her face and tightening her corset. Pulling up her posture only made her brows furrow. She hated her reflection, painted face of false beauty, red hair tied behind her head, a corset pulling in her waist so her slim dresses of silk will fit her sturdy frame. The dress was green, matching the emerald jewels on her neck and pins in her hair. It was embroidered with gold flowers and vines, a forest wrapped around her.
The maids started to usher her out of her quarters, she stood firm against their nudges.
“Leave me, tell my parents I will join them in due time,” she didn’t make eye contact, even though it hurt her to be rude.
They bowed and left silently, closing the ornate oak doors. Rosaria breathed out slowly and relaxed her shoulders. She walked over to her nightstand, pulling out the dagger and sheath from behind it. She hefted up her skirts to tie the sheath around her thigh. Her mother would faint at the sight, it filled her with glee knowing her mother would disapprove.
She smoothed out her skirts as she gathered a bag, filling it with tunics, shirts, trousers and boots. The task of risking her life on a few belongings stirred a new feeling in her stomach but she knew it would do her good. She slipped a few of her favourite books in there, knowing she’ll need some company on cold nights.
Her mothers patience was running thin and Rosaria knew she had little time. Grabbing a leather pouch and filling it with jewels, she stuffed it into the bag.
“Rosaria! What in the Kings crown are you doing in there?” Her mother knocked harshly on the door.
Rosaria panicked as she kicked the bag under her bed, “Enjoying the calm breeze outside mother, isn’t it lovely?” Her windows weren’t even open, it was the middle of autumn.
The queen sensed her lie reaching for the iron door handle, Rosaria pulled it open and stepped out closing the door behind her.
“Time for breakfast, isn’t it?” Her heart was racing as her mother arched her brow.
“Yes, it is,” the queen drawled out, scanning her daughter.
They walked the stone halls in silence, maids bowing before continuing their work, their guards following silently. On their way through the castle, one hall showed the courtyard through stained glass windows. Rosaria took few glanced to the cobbled courtyard, knowing the memories that would resurface.
Her and Robin running across it in the night to the training grounds, Robin teaching her sword fighting and tripping her over into the fountain, laughing in the cold night. She begged him not to go to war in that courtyard, crying as she held his hand, Robin mounted the horse anyway, determined to show his loyalty and bravery. His last words to her were spoken on the courtyard.
“Rosaria? Are you listening?” Her mothers voice dragged her back into reality.
“Pardon me, Mother,” Rosaria stuttered. “I was distracted”
The Queen narrows her eyes, “Going off in fairyland won’t help your future. As I was saying, today you will be taught the ways of the Irelan Court. You will learn their traditions, festivals, customs, history and anything that will be relevant to you being their queen.”
So everything about that wretched state, thought Rosaria, hate boiling in her stomach.
They continued their walk in silence, heels clicked on the stone floor. Rosaria turned, naturally heading to the dining hall. The Queen tugged harshly on her arm, leading her in a different direction.
“Mother? Is everything alright?” Rosaria panicked.
“You said it was such a nice day, how about we enjoy breakfast outside?” Her mothers smile was tight, there was something stirring in her deep ocean eyes.
Rosaria’s mind raced, thinking of a thousand different reasons why they would be dining outside. The Queens grip did not loosen on her arm, the rings on her fingers digging into her skin.
As they drew closer to the wide doors that led into the royal garden, only then did Rosaria knew what was about to happen. Her body grew stiff on instinct. The queen was willing to drag her forward. The guards opened the door, sunlight and a cool breeze greeted them.
“May I introduce you to my daughter, Princess Rosaria,” Her fathers voice sounded soft, but Rosaria knew the hurricane that laid dormant.
She was turned to face her betrothed, the only way to end a war.
“Your Highness, a pleasure it is to finally see you,” he took her hand a kissed it gently, a smile playing on his lips as he looked her in the eye.
“Prince Frederick,” she nodded curtly, stopping the harsh remark on her tongue.
He looped his arm in hers, leading to the table. “We are going to have fun, aren’t we, my darling?”
Fun? This was going to be hell, Rosaria nodded again, not trusting her tongue.
~*~*~*~
Hello! This is something that I've been working on and have finally decided to publish! please tells me what you think, even constructive criticism is fine! this quarantine is gonna make me really active in writing. Ill update soon!
Burnt amber eyes surrounded by burnt leaves, the cold wind filtering through the cracks. A twig snaps, a blur of soft red and black. Jaws snapped shut, cutting a life line. The Fox Trial leaves no innocence. A ghost over the undergrowth. Metal jaws snap shut, cutting a life line. The Fox Trial leaves no spare.
