ERICIA SITS BETWEEN Prince Rowan and Prince Henry;
uncomfortable. The trainers take turns describing the process
being made by the trainees of the Vynierian army and all talking,
murmuring or chatter in the room otherwise ceases.
Princess Ericia sits up in her chair, too shocked, too nervous, to
panicky to budge. She listens to the trainers attentively; learning.
She tries her very best not to make eye contact with anyone in the
room –none with her Betrothed to her left, none with the Prince
of Phillimont to her right, none with the court members or the
trainers, and especially none with her father.
When the topic of the defensive arts crosses the round table and
Ericia begins to listen to the skill sets that the trainers are planning
on teaching the soldiers, she lights up. She wishes so deeply that
she would be able to further her practice in the arts. She’s been
trying hard to improve on her own, but it’s been difficult without
a proper guide.
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Prince Henry observes her as she watches and listens to the
professionals. Even with her expression showing minimal interest,
he could feel the difference in her mood towards the subject.
Henry shifts in his seat and sits up, placing his hands on the table
in front of him. He shakes his study of the Princess beside him out
of his mind and returns his focus to the topic at hand.
Prince Rowan doesn’t look at Ericia. He stares at the speaker,
listening inattentively to what he’s been saying. He can’t seem to
focus with Ericia beside him. He can’t seem to focus knowing
she’s sitting beside him and also beside Prince Henry. He can’t
believe Prince Henry had done what he did –asking the permission
of her father for her to attend such meetings. Princesses and
Queens shouldn’t be involved in these kinds of matters, should
they? They should be the ones being protected by their husbands –
by the King –they should be the ones doing the more graceful
things. He folds his arms, leaning back into his chair.
King Charles, though he’s listening to the speaker, is
overwhelmed by a feeling of discomfort. Ericia should not be
there, but he doesn’t want a single thing to break this alliance.
With a good impression, once the alliance is officialised, King
Charles could be invincible.
He would find a way to deal with Ericia, however. He’s always
found a way.
***
Something about literally having Ericia in the meeting makesKing Charles sick. He’s got a terrible migraine, and he’s coughing
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terribly. His blood is boiling, and he can’t seem to get the image
of the responsible Prince Henry and the silent Prince Rowan out
of his head. Ericia’s stiff position as she was sitting in the meeting
irks him. He could almost see her shaking breaths. When Charles
heads to his bedroom, Olivia isn’t there.
“Call the physician,” says Charles to a servant.
The servant leaves, returning with said physician; Seth.
***
Henry roams around the palace, bathing in the moonlight as theworld goes to sleep. It’s late, and by this time there are only
palace guards standing at the doors and patrolling the blocks.
He stops in that spot in the garden –the same spot where Ericia
had walked up to him. The same spot where she first truly spoke.
Am I just a man’s betrothed?
I, too, am an Heir, Your Highness.
He scoffs, shaking his head and looking down at his leather
boots. He genuinely laughs to himself as he thinks of how open
she is around him.
Looking out at Vynier, Henry feels a calm he hadn’t felt for a
long time. On nights like this, back in Phillimont, he would be
hunting. He would be hunting or reading or exercising. Here he
is, the great Heir of Phillimont, having what he hasn’t really had
for a long time –which is in fact, a break.
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Henry has been so caught up in the affairs of his nation that the
thought of leaving for a while –even to train an army- is like
having a vacation and it had not been an opportunity for ages. Not
only does he get to be in charge of men who he will train to be
responsible, but he has the privilege of righting a wrong he’s
aware of –the wrong that is Ericia’s absence from the role she’s
supposed to be upholding as the future of Vynier.
“Thank you,” he suddenly hears a soft voice behind him say.
He turns, finding Ericia in her long wool sweater and pajama
shorts, standing before him now, sincerity shining from her face.
“For what?” he asks her.
She walks towards him, chuckling. “For putting that heated
tongue of yours to good use and helping me to get a place in the
King’s study.”
“I told you,” he says. “This wasn’t a personal favour.”
“It was a favour nonetheless,” Ericia says, “and it was something
I couldn’t do on my own.”
“It was just a seat in a meeting,” says the Prince, shrugging.
“Why make such a big deal out of it?”
Ericia laughs, genuinely, overwhelmed by the humour of his
question. “Because, Prince Henry,” she says, “You helped me to
do something that I’ve always wanted to do.”
“Which is?”
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“Act like an Heir,” she says, smirking.
Henry looks at her, his neutral expression suddenly vanishing as
a smile overcomes him and he lets out a low chuckle. He turns
away from the Princess to stare out at the city as Ericia’s
expression becomes one of amusement and surprise.
“Are you actually smiling?” She asks, laughing, “Are you actually
laughing?”
“Don’t look at me,” Henry says, immediately forcing his face
back into a neutral phase.
“Henry,” Ericia says, “if I may call you that,” she walks to the
front of him so that she’s looking up at his face once more. “If I
may be so bold as to say this, Your Highness, you’ve a wonderful
smile.”
“If you mention this to anyone, I’ll leave Vynier for good,” he
says, though he’s fighting a smile.
“Are you threatening our whole alliance over a smile?” Ericia
asks, but she’s entertained by his response.
Henry rolls his eyes. “I helped you get a seat for the sake of both
our kingdoms –I already explained the hassle of having to deal
with two armies on my own.”
“Yes, yes, I’m aware of your reasons for doing what you did,”
Ericia says, “But I’m grateful in my own ways anyway. You don’t
know, Prince Henry, how much that little action meant to me. I
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don’t expect you to understand, but I expect you to accept my
gratitude.”
Henry moves over to the bench and sits, Ericia moving to sit
beside him. They look out at the nation together.
“You...” he trails off for a moment, “You like the defensive
arts, don’t you?”
“How’d you know?” she asks.
“I could see the way you lit up when the trainer began talking
about it, and I don’t know how, but I felt your mood change,
too.” Ericia nods, but then suddenly she’s overwhelmed with
sadness. Henry doesn’t have to look at her. He frowns. “What’s
wrong?” he asks.
“Huh?” she utters, turning to him.
“You suddenly became different,” he says.
“Oh,” she says, laughing nervously. “Well,” she clears her
throat... but she doesn’t know what to say next.
“You can say it,” says the Prince, “whatever’s on your mind.
I’ll listen. I won’t say anything to anyone. I’m not here to cause
any sort of drama anyway.” He turns to the princess, who is
staring at him in bewilderment. “You can go ahead and say it.”
“Can I be honest?” she asks him. “Truly,” her eyes well up with
tears, “Can I be honest?” He nods at her, shifting his body in her
direction and focusing all of himself on her. “I’m overwhelmed. I
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don’t like it here,” she says. “I... hate who I am. I hate being
here.”
“And why is that?” he asks.
“Because,” she says, smiling pitifully, “I’m supposed to be this
person, and I’m not –and it’s not because I don’t want to be that
person, it’s because I...” she stares at the listening prince, “...I
can’t be.”
“What’s holding you back?”
“Someone,” Ericia says, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “Just
someone.”
If I say who, she thinks, we’ll both be done for.
Henry nods, looking out at the city again. “I understand,” he
says. “It’s alright if you don’t say everything now. I’ll be here a
while anyway.”
He stands, and then she does, and then he starts walking away.
Then he pauses, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets and
looking down. “I’m not in the business of interacting freely with
another man’s betrothed,” he says, turning to her, “but to you,
Ericia, as your own person... I don’t mind being a friend.”
Ericia’s clear blue eyes catch the light of the moon just as his do,
and he smiles at her –a closed-mouth smile, but softer and much
more sincere than the ones she’d seen before. His eyes seem to
crinkle, too. It makes her heart flutter. He nods at her and turns,
walking away.
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***
Prince Henry sits in the courtyard –it’s not filled with trainees,but there are enough. The sun is scorching, but he doesn’t care.
A large silhouette covers him, the sun blocking the person’s face
from showing clearly. Henry stands to meet face to face with the
man; Prince Rowan.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Rowan asks him, lowly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Rowan,” replies
Henry, though he’s very much aware.
“Ericia is my betrothed,” Rowan says. “What do you think
you’re doing?”
“I’m not doing anything,” Henry says, shrugging and raising his
brows, casually. “Is there something that I should be doing?”
“You’re here to build an alliance with Vynier, but so am I,
Henry,” says Rowan. “Yours isn’t a marriage, so stay out our way.”
“Have you been honest with her?” Henry suddenly asks. “Have
you told her everything there is to know about someone like you?”
“Someone like me?” Rowan asks, offended. “Excuse me, Prince
Henry of Phillimont, but I’m the future King of Lystotia, how dare
you speak down to me in that way?”
Henry laughs. “Well, would you look at that,” he says, staring
into Rowan’s murky green eyes, “all of a sudden, I’m asking about
honesty, and you’ve labelled me as something formal –something
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less than your friend. You’ve been telling her that we’re friends,
haven’t you? Where’s the love now?”
“Stop acting so self righteous, Henry,” Rowan says. “It’s not
like you’re a Saint. So what if I said a harmless little lie to Ericia
about us being friends? It’s better to avoid conflict anyway.”
“A harmless... little... lie?” Henry asks, laughing out loudly at the
Prince. “Harmless? Really, Rowan? Then let me ask you this, my
friend; how harmless was the last one?” His expression becomes
stern and genuinely annoyed.
Rowan closes in on Henry, their faces close enough to feel each
other’s hot breaths raging out, “Do not ever,” he says, “bring that
up.”
“Why would I?” Henry asks, amused. “It’s like you said. Your
Betrothal with Princess Ericia is none of my business. I’m not
trying to impress her in any way, but in the very least, Prince
Rowan,” says Henry, glaring at him, “I’m honest with her.”
“Then let me say this, Henry,” Rowan says, “if this is the game
you’re playing, you better be sure as hell that I’m fighting back.”
“Are you trying to shake me? The Prince of Phillimont? The
Devil in the Woods? The Heir to one of the world’s largest
armies?” Henry asks, entertained. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve
got.”
Rowan retreats with a glare, leaving the courtyard as Henry
wheezes a humourless laugh to himself.
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What’s about to come, he thinks, is going to be quite entertaining.
Let’s see where her heart falls, Rowan –because her heart will fall, but
will it fall into the right place?
***
The dinner table is set and the Royals are seated around it.There is silence as the first course arrives.
Prince Rowan takes a sip of his wine and speaks. “Ericia,” he
says, “Is your ankle better? I’m terribly sorry I forgot to ask.”
Ericia hadn’t said anything about her injured ankle to her father.
“It’s all better,” Ericia says, nodding to him and smiling as she
picks up her glass of wine.
“Her ankle?” King Charles asks, suddenly, and Ericia feels her
blood pumping at an unhealthy rate, “What happened to it?”
“Ericia tripped and fell down a staircase a little more than a
week ago,” Rowan says. “She didn’t know she had gotten such a
terrible injury, but then next day when she woke up her ankle was
swollen.”
Ericia’s heartbeat has already begun to speed up. Rowan... she
begs internally, though she’s not looking at him... please don’t.
Don’t say anything more.
There’s a subtle look of worry on Ericia’s face and Prince
Henry, sitting beside her, extends his leg so that his knee ends up
touching her leg. He hits her knee gently once, and she sits up a
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bit straighter, continuing to sip at her wine. She clears her throat
and sets the glass down, looking to her mother and father.
“It’s alright,” she says, “Really. It wasn’t the worse injury in the
world, but the physician told me that it would be better in a
week’s time and he was right.”
“Be more careful next time, Ericia,” says Queen Olivia.
“Please.”
“Watch where you’re going,” King Charles says, and though
he’s supposed to be sounding concerned, he’s saying it as though
he’s expected better of her.
Ericia suppresses a gulp, picking up her wine glass again and
sipping from it.
There’s a bit of silence as the royals eat, and then Rowan sets his
knife and fork down, suddenly remembering something.
“Oh, Your Majesties, I’ve some wonderful news to share with
you,” he says, laughing.
“Do tell, Rowan,” King Charles says, continuing to eat.
“During my weeks here I’ve written multiple letters to my
parents and a couple to my sister as well. My sister only recently
wrote back saying she’d like to join us here for a little while. Of
course, I had written her a letter in reply stating that it would be a
decision that isn’t up to me, but she insists on coming.”
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“Ah,” Queen Olivia says, beaming, “Yes, Princess May. It’s
been so long since we’ve seen your sister. Surely she’s grown into
a radiant young woman.”
“She’s still one who’s always up for an adventure, I suppose,”
Rowan says, his dimples popping out as he smiles.
“We’d love to have her with us,” King Charles says, his mouth
full. “As you’ve realised, there is a lot of room in this palace for
guests as such. Your sister is no exception. She’s welcomed to join
at any time to stay.”
“Perhaps my sister is bored,” Rowan says, picking at a chunk of
meat, “with me gone, she’s got nothing to do and no one at home
to associate herself with. I’m always the one keeping her busy.”
“I’m sure she’ll find lots to do here,” Queen Olivia says. “She
will have not only you to interact with but our lovely Ericia and
Prince Henry as well. Ericia, my dear, wouldn’t it be lovely to be
in her company?”
Ericia forks a piece of meat as her mother calls on her. “Indeed,
it would be an honour having her here.”
“Have you met the Princess, Henry?” King Charles asks him,
who was sitting in silence all this time.
Not only has Henry met her, he knows her in ways he regrets
knowing.
This must be your move, Rowan, he thinks, turning to the Prince of
Lystotia.
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“Yes, Your Majesties, I believe I am well enough acquainted
with her,” he says.
“Wonderful,” King Charles says, delighted. “You may invite
your sister. We await her arrival.”
Little do these Royals know, however, that earlier, Rowan had
already sent word to his sister via a messenger to come to Vynier.
He had made her aware in his notice that Prince Henry is here.
May would be a great distraction to the Prince of Phillimont and
certainly an outpour of entertainment added to his stay at Vynier.
She ought to fix things right into place when she arrives.
Rowan, smirking into his wine glass, decides that Henry will
have a hard time finding a move to play after this one in this little
war between them.
***
Within three days, Princess May Wright arrives into the palaceof Vynier. She looks nothing like her brother. Her hair is –in
contrast to Rowan’s- a light brown colour that sometimes appears
wine red in the light. Her eyes are a dark brown colour and she is
the stark reminder of her mother, Queen Carol. She strides in a
flowing cream gown, a beautiful rose flower crown adorning her
head. She is firstly greeted by her brother, and then by Princess
Ericia Charlotte Avington, and then by the Majesties of Vynier.
She is lastly reunited with Prince Henry, who she walks towards
and bows before, lowly.
“Prince Henry,” she says, gracing him with a smile.
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Henry nods at her with a neutral expression, taking her hand.
“Princess May,” he says, kissing it briefly.
He lets go almost immediately afterwards, Queen Olivia and
Princess Ericia taking the new guest inside.
Rowan says something that makes all the Royals laugh, but then
as they all head inside, Rowan falls behind everyone else and turns
to Henry, shrugging and pouting.
“Your move,” Rowan says.
Henry doesn’t even glare at him –he’s not low enough to.
As Rowan walks away, Henry departs into his own direction –
towards the field of Phillimont men, resting and awaiting the
continuation of training.
Princess May has grown up into a fine young woman, he’s
decided. She’s still beautiful, she still has that old habit of making
a good impression on people, she still has the ability to woo others
with simply her presence or just by the mention of her name, but
she’s still the one ingredient to a disaster that Henry doesn’t want
to get cooked up in again. She’s toxic.
***
Seth feels the pulse of the king, lying in his bed, his temperatureincreasing.
“It looks like your fever is getting worse by the day,” Seth says
to the King. “You’ll have to continue taking the medicine. Once
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you stick to the it, which you should take three times a day, the
fever along with the migraines will be completely gone within a
week to a week and a half. If the fever persists into two weeks and
more, then we will try another solution. This is, however, the
most effectively working remedy, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Seth,” says the King. “I’ll have the servants add it
to my routine.”
“I will give the specific instructions to the servants, then. Have
the medicine before meals, and remember, three times a day.”
Seth stands, bowing to the king. “Get some well deserved rest,
Your Majesty. It’s been another long day.”
***
When Seth leaves the room, he heads right down into theQueen’s lounge. The Queen, sitting with her eyes glued to a good
book, looks up when he enters. He walks over to her and bows.
“King Charles will need lots of rest aside from his medication
in order to recover fully. He is in the process of getting better,
though his fever seems to be getting worse. Not to worry, Your
Majesty, your husband will be fine once he sticks to the
medicine.”
“Thank you, Seth. Keep up the good work,” Queen Olivia
says, smiling at Seth.
“Your Majesty, if I may,” Seth says, turning to Gaya who is
standing beside the Queen. “I’d like to speak with Miss Gaya for a
moment.”
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“Oh,” Queen Olivia says, turning to her. “By all means, go on.”
Gaya bows to the Queen, exiting her post and leaving the room
with Seth.
“How is the King?” Gaya whispers.
“His fever is terrible –and it’s getting worse. Stress isn’t
helping. Nothing about being the King is helping, I’m sure. He
needs rest –he needs time away from the Royal mess,” Seth says.
“I’m doing what I can, Gaya. Not to worry.”
“I won’t,” Gaya says, smiling. “We know you’re doing your
best, Seth. Is that all you wanted to see me to say?”
“The King,” Seth says, “He found out about Ericia’s injury at
dinner.”
“Yes,” Gaya says, frowning. “He did. Prince Rowan mentioned
it. His Majesty hasn’t said or done anything since, but perhaps that
is also taking a toll on him.”
“What if it’s the mess of not acting out that’s causing him to
get such a bad sickness?” Seth asks. “Allowing anger and
frustration to build up can cause such illnesses.”
“Let us pray he doesn’t explode on any