Rosalie

"Someone best have good news!" the Queen bellowed, looking between the members of her council.

One councillor looked about tentatively before looking back at her. "Lord Beaumont has died," he said.

The Queen sat up straight in her chair, a queer sort of happiness touching her. "Invite Lady Beaumont to court. We wish her to be here in her time of need. Remind her that this is not a request."

"Yes, my queen."

"And what of this elusive guard? Surely he could not have escaped the castle while being searched for."

Her secretary spoke up. "We believe he may have received help."

"Then find all those who helped him escape and arrest them. My daughter's life was put in jeopardy and I will not rest until the man responsible is found. Do I make myself clear?" She gave each man a hard look, eyes sweeping over the men she wished she could dispose of.

"Yes, Your Majesty," came the reply.

Satisfied that she had said all that was needed, she took her leave and headed towards her daughter's chamber. There were extra guards all the way up the hall that led to her doors and yet she still didn't think it was enough. A hundred guards could be stationed outside the doors and she believed not one could deter her daughter.

The princess was sat on the floor in front of the fire when the Queen entered, dressed in nothing more than a nightgown. "It is the middle of the day," she said, frowning at her daughter's utter disregard.

"There is no need for dressing when I am confine once more to my rooms," the princess replied.

"I do not care whether you think that is best; it's not fitting for a princess to lounge about in a nightgown."

The girl turned to looked at the Queen, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I am to receive no visitors and you confiscated my lady. There is really no need to soil clothes that serve no purpose."

"That is where you are wrong, dear daughter," she said, irritation seeping into her voice. It seemed that Clarice was not the fuel behind the outburst that occurred three nights ago after all. "You shall be receiving Prince Christian. After all, you are to wed."

The girl rose swiftly to her feet. "If I am to receive him he may gain yet another scratch."

"I'll have you bound to a chair if I must."

The princess moved across the room and stood by the window, a safe distance away from the Queen. His presence had completely disappeared, leaving her alone once more, yet she craved him more than ever. She knew they were searching for him, the lies Prince Christian having told exceeding even more than she could have imagined, but she also knew he would not be found. It was she who needed him here and yet it was she who had sent him away.

She wondered whether it was common knowledge that her guard had attempted to force himself onto her. Naturally, she knew he'd told the Queen that he had caught her in an intimate embrace with her guard, but to the guards and any other member of court who needed to know, she had almost been violated. Her isolation was a means of protection, a notion that had her suppress a bitter laugh.

The Queen watched her daughter a little longer before leaving, not wanting to spend another moment in her presence. It was unfathomable; her daughter, the sole heir to the throne, engaging in a secret affair with a guard. She didn't even want to think about it.

For three days she had been doing all she could to separate herself from having to be a host, using the situation with her daughter as an excuse to turn down any and all requests for an audience she received. But as she sat in her private solar, the one place she would go whenever she wished to receive no messages, a nervous messenger entered

"Sorry for disturbing you, Your Majesty," he stammered, bowing his head forward. "King Harold has been requesting your presence all afternoon and has now stood before your chambers refusing to move."

"That utter fool," she said. "I want him escorted back to his chamber. He is not in his land and ought to remember that. If he wishes to speak with me then he must await my approval for an audience."

The messenger hurried off. It would seem that she had things that needed tending to. Perhaps she would allow him more time to reflect on his demanding behaviour. Surely he must realise there was a crisis at hand that must be dealt with as swiftly as possible? Even Prince Christian had more thought that his father did, having accepted her dismissal gracefully after he'd told her the news. There was hope that she may have misjudged the prince initially.

The Queen had little to eat for her midday meal before leaving her solar and retreating to the private room she used much too often as of recent. It was there she then sent for King Harold and stood by the window while she waited.

The man wasn't in high spirits when he entered, something which was all too clear on his expression. He had been mildly tolerating while at the feast and fortunately that'd been the last she'd seen of him before now.

"Your daughter marked my son," was the first thing he said

"Yes. Prince Christian explained what occurred to me."

"Not only has she marked him but she has also humiliated him. That is not the type of respectable woman my son is to marry."

She turned away from the window now angered. "That is my daughter you are speaking about," she warned. "And need I remind you the marriage was requested by your son. I have no affinity for the match but accepted the request as he asked little else when he returned with my daughter. This alliance also benefits you most, and the dissolving of it would trouble me little."

The king's expression turned thunderous. "Then what a queen you would be, breaking an alliance before it sets into place."

"Quite a smart one, I would be told. Many a times do kings forgo their promises so why should it be any different for a queen? Indeed, do state now whether you wish this be dissolved. I am in no mood to accept political drivel that will not be upheld."

His look of anger hadn't let up but his brow had loosened a little. "If my son wishes to wed her still then it shall be upheld."

She gave a nod. "Very good. If he wishes, he may visit her. But only he will be permitted."

"That is not wise."

"Christian is a man. Surely he is able to decide what is wise? By all means, he does not have to see her until they wed if that is what he wishes. Many don't see their betrothed beforehand."

"Most brides aren't likely to be violent."

"Quite true. Many are warned of what is expected of them but I highly doubt my daughter cares much about that."

King Harold walked the length of the room, his form still tense with the anger he'd entered the room with. The more she had to entertain him, the more she truly believed he was beyond an insufferable man. Had his queen travelled instead of him then she was sure this conversation would not be occurring. Surely Christian must have gained his sense from somewhere.

The king turned to meet her gaze. "You can rest assure that I will speak with my son to advise that he does not continue this betrothal - there are better suited women in our own court, ones who know their manners and place - however, he is certain to disregard what I say. This alliance goes ahead but it does not have my support, regardless of what is signed."

"If it's for the good of your realm, your support is not necessary," she said.

He took his leave shortly after. Again the Queen wondered how he had managed to keep the throne for as long as he had. Surely his heir would be far more competent than his father? A small accident would be a tragedy and yet would perhaps be the making of the kingdom. Being close neighbours ought to bring either strife or alliances but there had never been any relations between them, as it was a kingdom that was irrelevant and lacking. It wasn't an adequate trade partner either, and if they ever went to war and Harold thought to request her help, she'd have to consider it deeply. The impending alliance would mean nothing when it came to considering money and men, especially for a kingdom she believed would never hail victorious if challenged.

True to her thoughts Prince Christian did wish to see the princess and she arranged for it to happen, ensuring that she sent two ladies to help the girl dress in preparation to be seen. As the prince approached the chamber a little while later, he briefly touched the fading scratches that were on his cheek before entering the large chamber, immediately seeing a sight he was not expecting.

"Your Highness," he stammered, averting his eyes. "My apologies, I thought you were suitable!"

The princess laughed. "Yes, so might the Queen too. Her ladies left when I was wearing a full ensemble but I much prefer a nightgown. I did draw on my robe in preparation for your visit, though. It is of the same material of one of my dresses and is thicker than my nightgown, which I assumed you would prefer."

"This is not proper."

"You wished to see me. I am confined to my chamber because of you and I will not dress until I am free. Speak to me in my robe or not at all."

He looked up now. "What would the Queen say?"

"Your affinity of telling the Queen everything is truly irritating," she snapped. "It is as if you are a boy and not a man."

Prince Christian took a step forward only for her to take a step back, moving to stand behind one of her chairs. "I only wish to stand nearer to speak. Or perhaps we should sit?"

"Don't mistake my acceptance of the situation as willingness."

"What is the harm of sitting in front of the fire together?" He stepped forward once more.

The princess dug her fingers into the chair. "You best keep your distance," she said. "The Queen has already threatened to have me bound to a chair if an incident occurs, but rest assure that I will gladly accept that if you get near to me."

The prince looked bewildered. "You do realise we shall lay together once wed?"

"Do you intend to force me?"

"Never."

"Then we shall never lay together," she said.

Prince Christian was surprised. "That is your duty, as it is for any married lady, especially one of your ranking. Surely you must know that?"

She gave him a smile, one that showed her teeth. "I could be queen and yet I would still never lay with you."

"You do not desire children?"

"Of course," she snapped, "that is my only purpose, is it not? Even as a princess, I should desire solely to become a mother and rear as many children as my body permits."

Prince Christian straightened and looked about the room. "Perhaps I should return some other time," he said.

"Oh no, do stay. You came all this way to see me and yet we have barely spoke. Surely you had something to speak to me about? Or had you assumed I would be beaten down to submission?"

"I just wish you would not be so hostile all the time."

The princess let go of the chair with a push, throwing her head back and laughing. "Surely you jest!"

"I should leave-"

"You do not even know what it means to be hostile. Hostile is the invasion of your home by men you do not know. Hostile is the kidnapping by those same men who then hold you hostage in a luxurious prison. My words will never compare to what hostile truly is."

"I thought you had been cured of that?" he said coolly.

"How can I be cured of you?!"

A silence fell over the chamber and Prince Christian watched her for a short while before turning and heading to the chamber's doors. As he reached out to open them, the princess spoke once more. "Go ahead and tell the Queen. That is all you are good for, after all."

He left the chamber with gritted teeth, stalking away from her. His concern for her had translated solely into servitude to the Queen and that irritated him immensely. The Queen had to be aware of potentially harmful things, of that he was certain, but this was not how he wished to calm the princess into seeing how beneficial a marriage between the two would be. He wanted to tell her that the likelihood of her finding some other man - a prince, nonetheless - who would put up with her tongue was slim, and until she succeeded the Queen, she would be required obey her husband as was the norm.

The prince retreated back into his chamber and paced. After walking the width of it seven times, he sat at his bureau and began to write.