- Local time
- Today 4:08 PM
- Messages
- 16
- Pronouns
- She/Her
"You're unusually quiet."
The words preyed on the open silence, their detached assessment interrupting the modicum of normalcy the morning's routine had granted the princess.
Yet, she smiled.
The day was relatively hot, though it was not yet noon, and she was enjoying the rare opportunity to prune the roses. In truth, it was the best day she had had since her father's announcement the fortnight prior.
Contentedly, she sat back on her heels and sighed. "I'm not a conversationalist in general, Theo. You'll have to explain your what you mean."
Theo shifted in his stance and cleared his throat. "Forgive me. I just meant you're more quiet than usual."
"Yes, well, deep thought will do that to a person."
Theo snorted. "Not my mother. She never shuts up."
She hid a smile, but chose not to comment as she reached for another dead blossom to trim.
It had been weeks since she had been allowed to visit the gardens and now that she was here, she could not fathom returning to her gilded cage until she had to.
"Are you concerned about the betrothal?" he asked, cautiously.
She frowned, hand raised just above the stem. The manservant was new and had yet to be taught decorum and propriety, but his curiosity was far out of line. Hoping he would pick up on her discomfort without having to be reprimanded, she ignored the question and return to rose bush, only for him to repeat his question a moment later.
"I don't wish to speak on the matter," she snapped.
Like the decaying rose she had just cut, the man wilted, his shoulders caving in and his head drooping.
Guilt flooded her chest. But goodness the man was tiresome! The day had been going perfectly without her father's presence and this man's prying.
Shrugging off the regret for her harsh tone, she refocused on the roses and allowed the sun to bring a much needed warmth to her bones.
After another hour or so, a twig within the treeline surrounding the gardens snapped, but she could see nothing through their tangled greenery. At first, she blamed it on a harmless forest resident, but when it happened again she doubted that some rabbit or squirrel was to blame.
"M'lady-"
Silver glinted in the sunlight and her manservant collapsed to the ground, a knife protruding from his chest. She started, dropping the sheers as she did, and rose to her feet- but it was already too late to run.
Rough hands ceased her from behind and muffled her cries of alarm.
"Come willingly or I'll make you willing," a masculine voice warned, forcing her into the forest.
Despite his warning, she thrashed. An arm here, a leg there, whatever she could manage to wriggle from his hold, she pounded her captor with it.
When an unfortunate finger slipped between her teeth, the man cursed and slapped her hard enough to daze her into cooperating.
Her head swam as he steered her further into the trees and away from her supposed prison.
After what felt like hours, they arrived a large camp where houses were built into the trees with makeshift bridges connecting them. At the base of the trees stood men in ranger apparel, aside from one who wore a crown made of sticks and a long, black cloak.
The King of the Northern Forest.
A myth to some, the King of the Northern Forest was rumored to occupy the king's private hunting lands, but had managed to weasel out of being caught. Even her father doubted this man's existence, despite the numerous complaints from his officials that they had been robbed on their way to the castle.
Neither had she bought into the ridiculous tales that a self-appointed king of the trees had managed to escape the royal guard on several occasions.
That was, she hadn't believed the stories until a week before when while horseback riding through the forest, she had stumbled upon him bathing with his men upstream.
"Princess," the king greeted, a smirk toying with his lips. "Welcome to my humble kingdom."
She looked around, pretending to consider the camp around her. "Hm, yes, humble is a good word for it."
His smirk faltered, but returned nearly as quickly.
"It is so kind of you to visit us, but I'm afraid I cannot allow you to leave in one piece. You see, I've waited years for the opportunity to capture you. Once I kill you, I will attack your father while he is weak with grief and once and for all, rule the entire kingdom."
The men around them cheered as though their king's plans didn't have gaping holes and he could so easily topple a kingdom, but she was far too elated to give heed to the bloodthirsty glances they threw her way.
"Ah, I understand. But before you proceed, I'd like to issue a challenge for your crown."
The king frowned, clearly confused, then scoffed, "You? Challenge me? M'lady, I assure you, you don't wish to challenge me."
"Oh, but I do. Unless the King of the Northern Forest is too cowardly to swordplay with a princess?"
Uneasy silence permeated the air as the king considered her with an icy glare.
Then, he shrugged. "What is it to me that I kill you in a dual rather than quick and mercifully? I'll be sure to tell your father how brave you were."
Taking the sword offered to her, she readied herself for the battle at hand.
She didn't have to wait long.
The king's blade rent the air, raining down a series of offensive strikes on her outstretched weapon. Having prepared her entire life for such a battle, the princess countered easily, allowing him to wear himself out.
Minutes later, the king started to slow. Perspiration trickled down his temples and something akin to fear ignited in his eyes.
For what had started out as the perfect hot summer day for him, would end tragically.
The princess he had sought to kill as a political move to upset her father's position on the throne, had outwitted him.
Eyes wide, the king of sticks stared back at her as she struck him dead in the chest.
The king crumbled to her feet, unmoving.
The men around her stirred. No doubt they were agitated with the implications of her victory, but before they had a chance to move, Theo emerged from the trees, hand resting pointedly on his sword.
"Bow before your new queen!"
At his command, the men slowly began to bow, not wanting to go against the warrior that, despite being struck in the chest with a dagger, appeared no worse for wear.
She gave him a smile. "I'm glad you are well."
"Remind me not to go along with your plans in the future," he said, rubbing his chest as he approached her, the barest hint of the leather breastplate concealed beneath his tunic, peeking out as he did.
Inhaling a deep breath, she hung her head back and closed her eyes. Finally, she was free from her gilded cage. She could now focus on rallying enough criminals and enemies of the crown to overthrow her father.
"It is the perfect day."
"Not for him."
The princess opened her eyes and peered down at the dead king at her feet.
She grinned. "No. Thankfully, not for him."
The words preyed on the open silence, their detached assessment interrupting the modicum of normalcy the morning's routine had granted the princess.
Yet, she smiled.
The day was relatively hot, though it was not yet noon, and she was enjoying the rare opportunity to prune the roses. In truth, it was the best day she had had since her father's announcement the fortnight prior.
Contentedly, she sat back on her heels and sighed. "I'm not a conversationalist in general, Theo. You'll have to explain your what you mean."
Theo shifted in his stance and cleared his throat. "Forgive me. I just meant you're more quiet than usual."
"Yes, well, deep thought will do that to a person."
Theo snorted. "Not my mother. She never shuts up."
She hid a smile, but chose not to comment as she reached for another dead blossom to trim.
It had been weeks since she had been allowed to visit the gardens and now that she was here, she could not fathom returning to her gilded cage until she had to.
"Are you concerned about the betrothal?" he asked, cautiously.
She frowned, hand raised just above the stem. The manservant was new and had yet to be taught decorum and propriety, but his curiosity was far out of line. Hoping he would pick up on her discomfort without having to be reprimanded, she ignored the question and return to rose bush, only for him to repeat his question a moment later.
"I don't wish to speak on the matter," she snapped.
Like the decaying rose she had just cut, the man wilted, his shoulders caving in and his head drooping.
Guilt flooded her chest. But goodness the man was tiresome! The day had been going perfectly without her father's presence and this man's prying.
Shrugging off the regret for her harsh tone, she refocused on the roses and allowed the sun to bring a much needed warmth to her bones.
After another hour or so, a twig within the treeline surrounding the gardens snapped, but she could see nothing through their tangled greenery. At first, she blamed it on a harmless forest resident, but when it happened again she doubted that some rabbit or squirrel was to blame.
"M'lady-"
Silver glinted in the sunlight and her manservant collapsed to the ground, a knife protruding from his chest. She started, dropping the sheers as she did, and rose to her feet- but it was already too late to run.
Rough hands ceased her from behind and muffled her cries of alarm.
"Come willingly or I'll make you willing," a masculine voice warned, forcing her into the forest.
Despite his warning, she thrashed. An arm here, a leg there, whatever she could manage to wriggle from his hold, she pounded her captor with it.
When an unfortunate finger slipped between her teeth, the man cursed and slapped her hard enough to daze her into cooperating.
Her head swam as he steered her further into the trees and away from her supposed prison.
After what felt like hours, they arrived a large camp where houses were built into the trees with makeshift bridges connecting them. At the base of the trees stood men in ranger apparel, aside from one who wore a crown made of sticks and a long, black cloak.
The King of the Northern Forest.
A myth to some, the King of the Northern Forest was rumored to occupy the king's private hunting lands, but had managed to weasel out of being caught. Even her father doubted this man's existence, despite the numerous complaints from his officials that they had been robbed on their way to the castle.
Neither had she bought into the ridiculous tales that a self-appointed king of the trees had managed to escape the royal guard on several occasions.
That was, she hadn't believed the stories until a week before when while horseback riding through the forest, she had stumbled upon him bathing with his men upstream.
"Princess," the king greeted, a smirk toying with his lips. "Welcome to my humble kingdom."
She looked around, pretending to consider the camp around her. "Hm, yes, humble is a good word for it."
His smirk faltered, but returned nearly as quickly.
"It is so kind of you to visit us, but I'm afraid I cannot allow you to leave in one piece. You see, I've waited years for the opportunity to capture you. Once I kill you, I will attack your father while he is weak with grief and once and for all, rule the entire kingdom."
The men around them cheered as though their king's plans didn't have gaping holes and he could so easily topple a kingdom, but she was far too elated to give heed to the bloodthirsty glances they threw her way.
"Ah, I understand. But before you proceed, I'd like to issue a challenge for your crown."
The king frowned, clearly confused, then scoffed, "You? Challenge me? M'lady, I assure you, you don't wish to challenge me."
"Oh, but I do. Unless the King of the Northern Forest is too cowardly to swordplay with a princess?"
Uneasy silence permeated the air as the king considered her with an icy glare.
Then, he shrugged. "What is it to me that I kill you in a dual rather than quick and mercifully? I'll be sure to tell your father how brave you were."
Taking the sword offered to her, she readied herself for the battle at hand.
She didn't have to wait long.
The king's blade rent the air, raining down a series of offensive strikes on her outstretched weapon. Having prepared her entire life for such a battle, the princess countered easily, allowing him to wear himself out.
Minutes later, the king started to slow. Perspiration trickled down his temples and something akin to fear ignited in his eyes.
For what had started out as the perfect hot summer day for him, would end tragically.
The princess he had sought to kill as a political move to upset her father's position on the throne, had outwitted him.
Eyes wide, the king of sticks stared back at her as she struck him dead in the chest.
The king crumbled to her feet, unmoving.
The men around her stirred. No doubt they were agitated with the implications of her victory, but before they had a chance to move, Theo emerged from the trees, hand resting pointedly on his sword.
"Bow before your new queen!"
At his command, the men slowly began to bow, not wanting to go against the warrior that, despite being struck in the chest with a dagger, appeared no worse for wear.
She gave him a smile. "I'm glad you are well."
"Remind me not to go along with your plans in the future," he said, rubbing his chest as he approached her, the barest hint of the leather breastplate concealed beneath his tunic, peeking out as he did.
Inhaling a deep breath, she hung her head back and closed her eyes. Finally, she was free from her gilded cage. She could now focus on rallying enough criminals and enemies of the crown to overthrow her father.
"It is the perfect day."
"Not for him."
The princess opened her eyes and peered down at the dead king at her feet.
She grinned. "No. Thankfully, not for him."