Rosalie

Court was every bit as suffocating as she remembered. Her ladies had greeted her upon her arrival, reminding the princess that she certainly hadn't missed their company. The tedious first few days made her wish to be back at Storward Manor, though Lord Bastian had accompanied her to court. His presence made the ever-impending feast look more like a confirmation of her sentence, and despite hearing no word about the purpose of the feast, the princess was not fooled.

Five days after arriving back at court, she was summoned to the throne room. Despite the protest of her ladies, she finished three goblets of wine before locking herself in her bedchamber. When another summons arrived Clarice had to do her duty and respond that the princess was indisposed, hopeful that it wouldn't anger the Queen. Then she and the other ladies tried to coax the princess from her chamber but nothing they said could draw her out from behind the door.

The second summons hadn't been replied to before the Queen was required to welcome her guest. The herald spoke as she attempted to conceal her irritation with her daughter. "His Majesty, King Harold III of Tharthen."

A large man of short statute strode into the throne room and Queen gave him a respected nod. "We welcome you to our court."

"My wife regrets that she could not be here, only there were matters that needed attending to," Harold said.

The Queen rose from her seat. "There is a feast being prepared to honour our alliance, but come, dear Harold, let us withdraw in private."

"I am keen to meet your daughter."

"She is indisposed as of current but shall be joining us for the feast," she said. "Let us now discuss further our prosperous alliance."

They retreated to the room behind the throne's platform and it was there they remained as the sky began to darken, with endless platters of light food being brought before the two monarchs. When it was time for the feast, the Queen was pleased to see that her daughter had arrived before they had. Prince Christian and his cousin rose from their seats as she and Harold joined the table.

"Father," Prince Christian said, nodding his head respectfully. "Did Mother not come?"

"There were matters that needed attending to. Nothing too serious but had to be dealt with promptly," King Harold said, turning back to the Queen. "Now I am certainly eager to be introduced to your daughter."

The Queen placed a hand on her daughter's arm, startling the girl and making her turn towards them. "You were not there to welcome King Harold, daughter," she said.

"I sent a reply to your summons. How very odd that you did not receive it," the princess replied, raising her goblet to her lips.

"You certainly are a lady that captures everyone's attention," Harold said, inspecting the girl. "I can only hope that my son showed you profound courtesies when he rescued you."

Her lip curled at that word. "Your son was a true gentleman."

Lord Philip choked on his drink and had to compose himself as their eyes fell on him. That princess was certainly something, he mused. He didn't think she was at all wife material but it was Christian who would have that burden, and he was only too keen to watch his cousin take on more than he could handle.

The feast went on for many hours, the noise growing higher and higher as more wine was consumed with each course that was brought to the tables. The Queen kept constant conversation with Harold and paid little attention to her daughter, who scarcely touched her food. Lord Bastian was seated at the end of the table that laid parallel to the wall the princess was sat near and while she watched him engage with other men near to him, she found herself desiring his conversation. Storward Manor had indeed been the happiest she'd been since being taken from her home.

Before the princess could request to return to her chamber, the Queen rose to her feet and a gradual hush settled about the hall. "We feast tonight in honour of our guest, King Harold," she announced, raising her goblet and tilting it towards the man at her side. "However, tonight we two monarchs do formally announce an alliance, one that has never been forged between our two lands before. Tonight, we are pleased to announce a betrothal has been made and two moons' turn from now, the Princess Rosalie and the Prince Christian shall be wed."

The noise raised at the announcement, obligatory cheers sounding from across the hall at the prospect of a glorious match. The Queen sat back in her seat and once more dove into conversation with Harold. The princess signalled for her goblet to be filled and drained the wine before the cup bearer could retreat. Various eyes kept seeking her out, and there was no doubt they were speaking of her as they looked. The dutiful daughter, the princess who would serve as a willing token for the alliance, the girl who must obey other's decisions about her life.

She finished her goblet before rising to her feet, grasping the arm of her chair so she did not sway as she stood. "I need some air," she murmured, slipping from the table before the Queen could respond. There was plenty of people on their feet as she moved through the hall, threading her way between the members of court who would undoubtedly gossip about her whether she stayed or not. A few attempted to speak with her but she ignored them, thankful when she reached the end of the hall and was able to leave, stepping into the quieter hall.

Her consumption of wine was impairing her ability to walk quickly and before she'd even got halfway to her chamber, there was someone calling after her. "Princess!" they called, but she refused to acknowledge that wretched Prince Christian.

His footsteps faded away as the princess tried to walk faster. The more he called after her, the more she moved quicker until she broke into a run, bunching her skirts as she rushed to her chamber and away from him. Clarice was lounging in her main chamber, for she hadn't been invited to the feast, and jumped to her feet when she flew through the door. "My lady, what is the matter?"

"I cannot do this!" she cried, ignoring the look her lady was giving her. "Do not let anyone enter!" The princess rushed into her bedchamber and slammed the doors shut.

Clarice could hear movement behind the closed doors and she hesitated, unsure whether to leave the princess alone. She had not been expecting the feast to end so soon and with the guards not having returned, she could only assume that the princess had left before it had ended. For a moment she regretted having dismissed the guard who'd been stood by the bedchamber's doors.

The room suddenly fell quiet and for the first time Clarice felt herself grow afraid. She approached the bedchamber's doors slowly and as she put her hands out to open them, the doors into the chamber flew open and she turned quickly to see that the princess's guard had entered. "Has she not returned?" he asked, and for the first time she could hear worry in his voice.

"She's in here," she said. "But she doesn't wish for anyone to disturb her." Before she had finished, the guard had rushed forward and pushed her out the way, throwing the bedchamber's doors open.

"No! Get out!" the princess cried, gripping the window frame tighter.

Clarice hurried forward, her heart frantic at seeing the princess stood at the open window. She looked distressed and a piece of furniture had been moved in front of the window, making it so that no one could easily reach her. "My lady, please get down!"

"What happened to your trust in me?" her guard asked, taking a step closer to the window.

"I tried!" The princess looked away from them.

"No, look at me. Look at me!" The girl reluctantly looked back into the room, fresh tears on her cheeks. "When have I ever broke a promise?"

"Not even you can save me from this," she said quietly.

"Please get down," Clarice begged, watching as the princess kept moving her hands. She knew she should call for help but she didn't dare leave the chamber lest the girl let go.

"I swore that I would die before I ever wed that man!"

There was a knock on the main chamber's door. Clarice glanced over her shoulder then looked at the guard. "What should I do?"

"Don't let anyone enter this bedchamber."

Reluctantly Clarice left and closed the doors, hopeful that he would be able to calm the princess. Never had she witnessed something as frightening as seeing her stood at that window, not even when the princess was gravely ill.

Prince Christian was the one who'd knocked, and when she'd opened the doors to him he questioned the lack of guards. "The princess asked me to dismiss them during the feast," she replied flippantly.

"Has she not returned?"

"My lady is having a lie down. She consumed too much wine and cannot receive any visitors, Your Highness."

He frowned. "Is she well?"

"She just wishes to sleep."

"Would you like for me to remain as there are no guards here?" he asked. "Or perhaps you'd like me to fetch them?"

"I would appreciate if you would fetch them, for I cannot leave my lady." She bowed her head as he left the chamber and closed the door in relief.

In the bedchamber the princess had looked away from her guard, ashamed that he saw her in this state. "I have disappointed you," she said quietly.

"You can only disappoint me by giving up," he said.

"I can't - I can't stay here. These shackles are too heavy."

He stepped forward, his knees now against the furniture she'd moved. "Do you really believe I would let you wed him?"

She looked at him miserably. "How could you stop it? I am certain that woman will speak the words herself if she must."

She watched as he moved the furniture away from the window and stepped closer, reaching out and removing one of her hands from the frame. "I do not break my promises," he said softly.

"Please take me from here," she sobbed.

He gently put his other arm around her waist and pulled her to his body, catching her firmly as she fell. "Never lose faith in me again. I don't know what I would do if you believed I would fail you."

She clung to him, desperate to not let go. Without him she would not have survived this long as a prisoner. But how could she survive much longer? As it was she had to consume copious amounts of wine to get through each day. If she was forced to spend time with Prince Christian, she wasn't sure she could do it.

When Prince Christian returned Clarice attempted to send him away, but his eyes fell on the still closed bedchamber. "Have you checked on her?" he asked.

"She asked for no one to disturb her."

He frowned and pushed past her. "Did you not see how she returned?" he asked, striding towards the bedchamber doors. "She certainly did not look well as she left the feast."

"You cannot go in!"

Though she tried to stop him she could only watch in horror as Prince Christian threw open the bedchamber doors and shattered the privacy. She was relieved to see that the princess was no longer standing at the window but the scene they had interrupted was far more dangerous, as the princess was encased in her guard's arms.

Prince Christian stepped forward, his eyes going between the princess and her guard as they broke apart. "What is this?" he asked. "You do not touch the princess."

"What right do you have to enter my bedchamber?" the princess snapped.

"Forgive me for caring about your well-being, princess."

She gave a bitter laugh and had to steady herself on her bed's frame. "Do not presume that I desire your care. As it is, I would rather that you left me alone."

"So that you may freely despoil yourself with someone as lowly as a guard?" he said sardonically.

The princess stepped forward and slapped his across the face. "Rest assured that I shall never despoil myself with the likes of you," she hissed.

Prince Christian grabbed her wrist, taking note of how her guard went to approach them only for the princess to push him hard, making him stumble dangerously close to Clarice. "What do you think would happen should the Queen hear of your intimacy with a guard?"

"Do as you wish," she said. "I care little about what you or anyone else thinks of me. If you believe that speaking of our embrace to the Queen will get us wed, I can assure you that you are mistaken."

"My lady," Clarice protested. "Surely you would not wish for such a dire action?"

"I do not care! Go ahead, Your Highness. Flee to the Queen and confess my sins. I am certain you shall burn regardless." There was a sharp intake of breath behind her but she did not turn to her guard. She would rather not have to watch the realisation cloud his face, not when she knew the price that came with it.

"I don't think you understand," Prince Christian said. "It is your guard who is likely to burn, though I am sure he deserves it." He looked at the guard, trying to see what might have drawn the princess towards him. There was something imposing about him but other than that he looked like any commoner would if they had been taken on as a guard.

There was a moment of tense silence. Clarice knew that the princess couldn't be thinking straight if she encouraged Prince Christian to confess about what he had seen. After all this time, she knew how much the princess cared for her guard, so surely she knew that any impropriety would be punishable? The princess herself would experience some form of punishment, she was sure.

Prince Christian took a small step back and looked between the princess and her guard. "It is my duty to tell the Queen," he said. "You might not believe me but this shall also be beneficial for you too."

"Run along then," she replied coldly.

"I cannot leave you alone with him."

"Do not worry, I was just about to dismiss him. He ought to flee now, yes?"

"I cannot allow that either."

The princess flew at him, the suddenness of her movement allowing her to overpower him, making them both fall to the floor as she tried to scratch his face, crying out with the reserved frustration she'd been keeping.

Clarice gasped and hurried forward, calling for help as she attempted to separate the two. What would the Queen say? She dreaded the thought. The guards the prince had returned with rushed forward and helped her pull the princess up, revealing the angry red lines that ran down Prince Christian's face.

He rose to his feet and shot the still-struggling princess a look of shock before glancing round the chamber, his eyebrows creasing as he did.

The guard had disappeared.