Rosalie

Spring had just begun to bloom when the Queen sent out an invite to King Harold, requesting his presence for a feast that he was apt to appreciate. She received a reply shortly after and gave the orders for preparations to begin. It was to be a grand occasion and she knew that it would only be mere days after that her enemies would discover the reason behind it. It amused her to know that the news would infuriate them, and she almost wished that she had the privileged of seeing each of them when they received their ambassador's letters.

Her invite to King Harold was kept a secret, with all those who were required to know being threatened with charges if they revealed it to anyone. She had never been a monarch who had to use threats to ensure her secrets were kept, but it had grown increasingly clear to her that there were members of both her household and her court that believed they were higher than she and thought they could idly chatter about her. After this feast they were to be given a rude awakening, that was for sure.

Word spread about a feast, which was only to be expected, and when the princess became aware of it she knew that it was in honour of something, and that made her suspicious. Her time at court had told her that the Queen only threw grand feasts when there was something to be celebrated, such as her presentation, for the festive season and for the Queen's sister. However, she was not aware of anything needing to be celebrated and knowing that Prince Christian still had not returned to his own kingdom, she felt it was only too obvious.

Nevertheless, she turned a blind eye, pretending that she had only heard of a feast and the commissioning of a new gown for her. As a dutiful princess, she was joyous about the gown and insisted her closest lady receive one too. She frequently gushed to her other ladies about how very much she enjoyed the feasts she had attended previously and how she could not wait for the day to arrive, but when they were absent and there were none of the guards who were loyal to the Queen around, she changed her tone.

Pacing her chamber, she found herself wishing that she could throw herself out of her window and escape her prison, but that was not possible. Instead she had to content herself with confiding in Clarice, the only lady she knew had never divulged her conversations to anyone.

"She means to wed me to that Prince Christian," she exclaimed, dropping her empty goblet onto the ground and swiping up another. "Dutiful princess, dutiful bride - how dreadful! As my saviour, I am apt to believe she would allow him anything."

Clarice ran her finger around the rim of her goblet. "Surely there could be worse suitors, my lady?"

That made the girl stop and turn suddenly towards her lady. "No! There is one man I shall forever harbour hatred for, and make no mistake, that man is Prince Christian. Why, he could be struck by a plague on the morrow and I would rejoice over his death."

"My lady!"

"Come now, Clarice," she chided, turning back to the window. "Are you no longer fitting as my confidante? Would you prefer to sit and do needlework and allow me to whittle away with my lies so that the belief that I am the ideal princess is fulfilled for you?"

Her chamber's doors had opened whilst she was speaking. Normally she would have ceased talking until she knew who it was, but their previous guard had left a mere few moments ago and she was awaiting his replacement. As unconventional as it was to constantly have a guard in the larger room of the chamber, she chose to seek that extra protection - at least, that was what she had told the Queen, her ladies and any other member of court who had enquired about it.

"Must you speak to her like that?" he questioned, drawing the girl back away from the window.

"Is it not my prerogative as the princess to belittle my ladies?" she snipped.

He looked disappointed as he took the position each guard had, stationed by the doors to her bedchamber. "That is not the girl I remember."

Enraged, she threw her almost empty goblet in his direction and steadied herself against the wall. "I am not who I once was! I can barely even remember who I am, for this prison is truly ripe with poison."

Abruptly Clarice rose from her chair and approached the princess. "My lady!" she exclaimed, reaching out to help steady her. "Are you feeling faint?"

"Do not touch me!" she cried, stepping back before Clarice's hand touched her. "I cannot breathe!" With that, she stormed to her chamber's doors, flung them open and disappeared.

Her guard stepped forward only for Clarice to shake her head. "You cannot follow! Not if you do not wish to be discovered," she warned, picking up the goblet from the floor.

"She does not seem well," he protested.

"You are her guard and must stay. No matter your feelings for the princess, she is certain the queen would send you away if she was aware of your familiarity."

They regarded one another for a moment before she placed the goblet on the table and glanced back at the window. "I do not suppose you had any inkling that the girl climbing in the ruins you saw would end up being a princess. That itself sounds grand but the reality is far from it," she said before swiftly hurrying after the princess.

As the girl was on her way to the gardens, the Queen was conversing with her physician. She paced the room as the man sat on a chair, watching her every movement. "Are you adamantly certain that she is in full health?" she questioned once more.

"I have examined the princess every week's end, Your Majesty. All is well with her," he replied.

"That is not the answer I am looking for!" she trilled. "This is all just a formality to placate that ridiculous Harold. How he gained the throne and not his brother is a true mystery."

The physician shifted in his chair. "Majesty, if I may, why must you use such a farce? If you object to such an alliance, then it simply should not be."

"If only it were that simple," she said, coming to a stop behind her chair. "Christian earnt my eternal gratitude for returning my daughter, of that I may never take back, but he is simple. The only intention he has ever spoke of is to wed my daughter, but Harold, oh that pathetic man! I need to keep him sweet, need to keep an alliance dangling before his eyes, but I have no intention of cementing it. That is why I need her health to be bothersome, in a way that will keep it a betrothal, nothing more."

Her words made the physician sit to attention. "There was an important issue I had come to inform you of, Majesty," he began.

"Well?"

"There has been an outbreak of Liympin disease in Alari."

The Queen drew back sharply. "Impossible!"

"The first case arose during the festive period; however, influenza was blamed. Several more appeared but no one thought to alert the town's Lord until he himself became infected."

"What of him?"

He gave a pause. "His physician wrote that he had just entered the final phase. As is well known, most do not survive Liympin but he truly had no chance due to a delayed diagnosis."

She pushed away from the chair and stalked toward the window. "It had died out! It was not supposed to come back!"

"As far as I am aware, there have only been cases in Alari. It can be contained and defeated."

Just as she was about to dismiss him to ensure that it was tended to efficiently, the bowl of fruit on the side table caught her eye and she stopped short. "Rosalie," she murmured.

"Alari is near the border, Majesty. The chance of it reaching the castle is improbable."

She turned and pointed to the bowl. "Burn it!" A servant rushed forward and snatched it up. "I want every item that returned from Alari removed from court and burnt. Dispose of all the food and every servant and maid who went there is to be quarantined in the south wing's cellar. I want no trace of that town to remain!"

As her servants rushed around the room, one timidly approached. "Your Majesty, one of the maids who returned was bedridden this morn."

The Queen turned to her physician. "Go and check on her now!"

The physician hurried after the servant and the Queen strode out of the room after them. As she made her way towards her daughter's room, she passed a maid who stepped out of her path only to collapse against the wall. Horror crossed her features as she stared at the girl who other servants had rushed to help.

"What is wrong with her?" she asked, hoping that she had just fallen.

One servant boy turned to answer her. "She complained of feeling feverish earlier, Your Majesty."

"Is she the only one?"

"No, ma'am. There are six of us bedridden."

She did not need her physician's confirmation to know that Liympin had indeed reached her court.