Kingdom

The glittering ballroom gleamed in all its splendour. The graceful, black and silver marbled columns framed the broad dancefloor where couples danced in all their trappings of grandeur. Trailing vines wound around the pillars and the edges of the gallery that ran around the ballroom, allowing people to gaze upon those below.

The Kingdom had spared no expense for this, the grandest of balls for their beloved Princess. She was to be betrothed to the powerful King of a neighbouring Kingdom: an alliance to protect them.

The Princess herself was on the dancefloor, being twirled around by her husband-to-be. She wore a long, flowing gown of deepest royal purple, with long delicate sleeves and a neckline that bordered on scandalous. Her raven-black hair was piled high and festooned with glittering diamonds, accenting her delicate neck. Her eyes were a warm, sapphire blue and usually full of life and mischief.

But their light was somewhat dimmed as she beheld her partner before her. He was older than the Princess, several streaks of grey showing in his dark hair. He was not as old as her father, but close and far enough from her age of 20. He had a tall demeanour and a proud face, his aura radiating power and arrogance, further exaggerated by his dark eyes, sharp as that of a predator.

“You look lovely tonight,” he commented to her as they danced.

He smiled but the smile never reached his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, sweetly. “You are looking supremely Kingly tonight.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Are you mocking me?” he asked as he spun her.

“Not at all,” she smiled sanguinely. “You look as grand as your station requires you to be. We are all honoured you have graciously accepted my hand in marriage.”

His hands tightened their already tight grip on her waist and hand.

“I am glad. While your Kingdom is smaller than mine, it has a great many benefits.”

She forced another genuine looking smile, then the Princess caught her Father’s gaze from the dais. He was watching ever-so closely, hoping and praying no doubt that all went well. She did not like her betrothed, and she had heard the stories told of him.

But she knew her duty and she would do it, or at least try.

“Indeed. It is my dearest hope that our union will provide much for both us and our Kingdoms to enjoy,” she said, returning her gaze to him.

The couples on the dancefloor gave them room as they circled endlessly, their feet barely touching the ground. The foreign King was a good dancer, definitely, as was she, but he seemed to be trying to push her through the steps with a tightness of grip instead of gently guiding her along.

Not wanting to think of or converse too much with the King before her, her eyes wandered around to take in the rest of the ballroom.

From over the King’s shoulder and through the crowd, she spotted a flash of light blue and gold step out from behind a column.

When she saw who it was, she couldn’t stop a genuine smile beaming across her face, curling up her rose red lips.

It was him. The General.

He was a young man, although a little older than her. He stood tall and lithe in his formal uniform: light blue jacket with gold buttons and gold tassels on the shoulders. He had tousled, blonde hair as golden as his decorations and a moustache that somehow made him look younger. She thought it made him look ridiculous and had said so many times. But when had he ever listened to her.

“I have not seen your face light up like this during all of tonight’s proceedings. Pray tell what has caused this…change?” the King said, a dangerous undercurrent to his tone.

The Princess quickly snapped her attention back to the King before he could see where she was looking.

“To be perfectly honest, your majesty, the sight and thought of the food and drink brightens my mood. I do so love a banquet,” she said brightly, allowing a breathy laugh and her gaze to drift over the table with the pre-banquet food.

“A lady, especially one such as yourself, should take care not to overindulge on anything,” the King said.

“Yes, but this is a special occasion so I believe exceptions must be made for tonight at least,” she said brightly.

The song finished and before the King could say anything further, she extricated herself from his grip, bowed deeply and then headed towards the food and drink tables at the side of the room. She could feel his displeasure boring into the back of her neck.

Trying to shake off the feeling of his stare, she grabbed a crystal glass of something fruity and gulped it down. She could already see and hear the groups forming, whispering amongst themselves about every move she made and every word she said.

She hated it.

She felt his presence before she saw him. While he wasn’t a towering figure like the foreign King, he had a presence about him which, perhaps, was what made him such a good General.

He stood beside her as she picked over the food and delicately sipped another glass. He was far enough away so as not to cause gossip, but she knew the gossip would happen anyway.

“Are you happy with your Grand King, Princess,” he asked, his voice pitched low enough to carry only to her.

She loved his voice. It always did what he wanted it to. From bellowing out orders like thunder on a battlefield, to whispering softly into a woman’s ear, his voice always carried itself to its intended destination.  

She could hear the humour in it now.

“He is what the Kingdom needs very much,” she replied, also pitching her voice low and making sure those near them wouldn’t overhear.  

“What about what you need?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

She looked up sharply.

“It doesn’t matter what I need or want. Do not say such things,” she hissed.

He took a step towards her and her heart skipped a beat.

His eyes were still fixed on the food in front of him, carefully picking up titbits. Then he turned his full gaze on her and she suddenly felt flushed. His eyes were as blue as the sky and she knew they could be as sharp and icy as her betrothed’s dark gaze. But they could also be soft and warm like they were when he levelled his gaze at her from time to time.  

“You always matter,” he said, his eyes piercing her.

She took a deep breath.

“Not in this matter,” she said, a note of finality in her voice.

They were silent for a moment, then he quickly closed the distance between them, standing so close it would be deemed inappropriate to anyone but accepted family or her betrothed. She could smell him, freshly bathed yet still smelling of hay and horse like he was fresh from the stables he loved so much. The horses always reminded her of him, for she had spent her childhood learning to ride from him. He was the son of a highly favoured Lord who was rich enough to warrant royal interest. So, he had taught her, for he was one of the greatest soldiers in the Kingdom, and no one could best him on horseback.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, extremely flustered now.

“You cannot marry him,” he hissed, his face full of determination. “He is cruel, among other things. I know you’ve heard the stories.”

Using anger to mask her fear and her doubts, she hissed back at him.

“I am the Crown Princess of the Kingdom. You are not royalty. You cannot command me.”

Hurt flashed across his face and he opened his mouth to say more but looked behind her and promptly shut it.

“Have a pleasant evening, Highness,” he said formally. He bowed then turned on his heel without another word.

She could feel the heat in her cheeks and the pounding of her emotions.

“Who is that?” asked a dark voice like a whip crack.

Startled, she spun around to see the King standing there. He looked…angry. Very angry.

“Tha-that is our General,” she stammered. “He leads all our armies.”

The King’s glare followed behind her and she suddenly felt a stab of fear – for herself or the General she wasn’t sure.

“He should not be so close to my bride,” he said, “nor should he…overexcite her.”

“Oh, no. He didn’t do anything wrong. He just startled me with what he said,” she replied.

“And what did he say?” he asked, his eyes dangerous.

“Oh, nothing of importance to you, your highness,” she replied, trying to make light of the situation.

His mouth tightened as though he could sense the lie. Then he abruptly grabbed her hands and almost dragged her towards the dancefloor.

A new song began to play and he pulled her tightly, possessively and whirled her almost like a marionette.

“You are moving a little too fast for me,” she said calmly, her sense of decorum returning.

He only tightened his grip and continued on.

“Have you enjoyed your visit here so far?” she asked, reverting to small talk to try to ease the tension that crackled through the air.

“As I said, while my country is vaster and grander, yours is nice enough for what it offers,” he said tersely.

He paused for a moment and attempted to smile congenially.

“And its Princess is quite beautiful.”

She sensed the compliment wasn’t sincere. She was a means to an end and the King didn’t seem to waste time on sentimentality. Still, she made herself giggle and hopefully blush.

“Thank you, your highness,” she said breathlessly, not entirely faking that as his pace had not slackened. He seemed almost out of time with the music, intent on making her lose her senses.

“May we please take a break?” she asked. “I fear you will tire me out too early into the evening.”

“And what shall you do if I let you go? Have more inappropriate conversations with other men below you in station?”

His hand turned white as he gripped hers. The fear began to creep in again. But perhaps now with a hint of anger.

“Nothing inappropriate has occurred here tonight,” she said firmly. “The General…”

“Oversteps,” he growled.

She could now see something else glinting there with the anger. Jealousy. Before she could think of what to say next, someone cleared their throat behind her.

“Your Majesty, may I please have this dance with the lovely Princess while my great King confers with you on the high dais?” the General asked, his voice and demeanour that of a perfect courtier.

The Princess saw her reprieve. She forcefully yet discreetly pushed away from the King and curtseyed deeply.

“I shall look forward to dancing with you later after you have finished conducting business with my Father.”

The King’s eyes glittered again and he sneered, his eyes shooting daggers at the General who seemed unphased. The King bowed stiffly then departed without another word.

The General took one hand, put his arm around her waist and suddenly they were close again and now she truly blushed. They glided along the dancefloor as perfect partners, his touch light, gentle, reverent even.

The Princess realised that they had never danced before – had never stood quite this closely before, quite this…intimately.

She looked up into his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, again in that voice that was only for her.

Moving as they were, their words would not be overheard easily, and if so, only snippets.

“I think so,” she said, trying to smile convincingly.

But he knew her better than she’d thought.

“I know you aren’t. I know your smiles, your true ones. These are not them. I know your light and your love for life. I know the things that make you happy, like long rides on a fresh, spring afternoon, or a good book to take you places you may never see or know. I know the things that make you sad, like saying goodbye to those you love. We have known each other for a while, Princess. You can lie to them all, but never to me,” he said, the words spoken so calmly, so certainly so full of…no.

He could not.

She could not.

“I am the Crown Princess. No one can know me. Especially not those lesser than me,” she snapped.

Hurt flashed in his eyes again, but he still grinned at her as he twirled her away then pulled her back in even closer, their chests touching.

“And I know when you are scared, or hurt, or confused you lash out. I know you will apologize later, for you are good and kind,” he said softly. “So, I repeat. Do not marry him. He is not for you. He will destroy you,” he said forcefully. She looked around nervously again to see if anyone could overhear. No one but her could possibly hear him, yet still she feared.

“I must. The Kingdom will suffer if I don’t. And I am the Crown Princess. I must marry for the good of the Kingdom,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes unbidden.

His face softened and she had the strangest sense that he was trying not to gently stroke her face.

“Marry me,” he whispered.

She stumbled several steps before he caught her and carried her on. Murmurs broke out and she dared a quick glance at the royal dais.

They were all watching.

“I am already engaged,” she said, trembling.

She wasn’t sure if it was from fear, shock or wild hope.

“Engagements can be broken. You have younger siblings. They can seal the bond between the lands in a year or two if they really must,” he offered. “Or better yet, they can be betrothed to royals who are better them him. He does not deserve any part of this Kingdom.”

“The King would not allow it,” she said with absolute conviction. “He is a man one does not say no to. My Father, however…” she trailed off uncertainly.

“Be brave and marry me. I can make you happy. My father is rich and has much power. We are favourites of the Crown and have been for centuries. And what better way to ensure that the armies will forever remain loyal?” he said with a smile.

She went to call him a hopeless fool but his words, his cursed words whispered into her mind, tantalising her.

She could picture it.

She would get to stay here, stay home. She wouldn’t have to say goodbye. She could go on long rides with him in the spring, surveying their Kingdom, travelling from town to town, village to village, while the flowers bloomed all around and the birds and the bees were drunk on honey and nectar. She could imagine them sitting on a rare, quiet day under the great oak tree at the heart of the castle courtyard that they had once climbed as children, hurling insults and acorns at each other. He would be reading his military reports, his hair glinting gold in the afternoon sunlight, and she would have her head on his lap as she thought of the runnings of the Kingdom and discussed with him what to do. He would always listen to her, and she would always listen to him.

Most of the time.

They would be partners in every way. They would be happy and the Kingdom would prosper with them.

It was a dream, a beautiful, wonderful dream.

“I can see you know I’m right,” he said, a note of triumph in his voice, a boyish grin breaking out.

“You would need to cut that ridiculous moustache,” was all she could think of saying before blushing deeply and biting her lip.

He laughed long and loud and she could feel the stares, and the dagger aimed at them from the King on the dais.

“It’s a dream,” she whispered once he’d stopped laughing.

“And dreams can become reality,” he said, then grabbed her waist and lifted her up high into the air for a twirl at the crescendo of the dance then dipped her down low so her hair almost touched the floor. Before she could catch her breathing, he pulled her back up and made no pretence now of a respectful distance. She could feel his deep breathing tickling her ear and the rest of the world disappeared.

“I love you. I want you, as you are, as I have known you. It is up to you to decide your fate. I know not of all your burdens, so I will let your shoulders carry them where you see fit. I will not make decisions for you,” he said intensely, staring into her eyes.

She found herself wishing desperately he would kiss her, so close were they.

But her eyes again caught sight of the thunderous figure of the foreign King.

Then the General stepped back, bowed, and kissed her hand which sent shivers down her spine.

“I bid you goodnight, Princess,” was all he said, though his eyes were full of his promise.

The world resumed around her as he left and already she felt as though something were missing, as though the world had grown colder, darker.

There would be a price to pay for her choice.

Hell or heartbreak.

The question was, which price would she pay?

*****

The raven-haired woman stood on the marble balcony of her castle and looked upon her Kingdom.

The world was smoke and ash, fire and death.

Her Kingdom had fallen, her dream had been lost and scattered to the winds.

And her heart lay dead on the battlefield.