章 4: Chapter 3.
It was hours later when Charlotte had calmed herself enough to walk back to the quarters she shared with her father. And even then she still shook with anger at the only person she couldn't help but feel sorry for. Oliver had a way of making her blood run hot, in more ways than one.
She did not expect to find the palace guards at the door, but it was not a rare sight to her. The guards let her through without question as they almost always did. And as she walked in, she found herself face to face with the king.
The king was not an old man. Though a good ten years younger than her father, he had more grey hairs on his head than the old knight. His expression was always angry or displeased, perhaps both, no one could tell the difference.
He had a permanent line between his brows, probably from frowning too much and even when he smiled, the line remained visible.
He'd worn the same hair and neat beard since Charlotte could remember. He was not one to embrace change willingly, something that made the old knight's job very hard.
"Oh, Charlotte!" he exclaimed when he caught sight of her. "Looking beautiful as always… just like your mother," he added, almost as an afterthought, sparing a look at her father that Charlotte didn't notice as she was too busy curtsying.
"And so polite! I'm sorry I can't stay dear, I was just leaving, be sure to pass by the palace every once in a while, you barely grace us with your presence anymore, why is that?" and before she could answer, he was out the door with regards to her father about a council later.
That was the way of the king, which he extended even and especially to his two sons. As long as you said nothing in his presence, you were sure to earn his regard and sometimes, a little respect.
Which naturally did not extend to her father whose duty was to speak to the king, advising him on issues of the kingdom, which the king rarely took into account.
"Charming as always," Charlotte said when she was sure the king and his escorts were gone. But her father was not as amused as he usually was about her sarcastic remarks. She worried that perhaps her grieving had put too much sadness in the old knight's heart, immediately wanting to ease his visible pain.
"It's okay Father, it's alright, I'm alright," she said, walking toward him. "I was just shocked by Frederick's death is all, I'm sorry I overreacted."
But the old man only grew more distressed. He took her hands in his and led her to the seat where the king had just rested when he delivered the order.
He looked into his daughter's eyes, hurting at her innocence, her yearning for independence and control, which she had just lost, and sighed, hoping she would have it in her heart to forgive him or at least, understand.
"What is it father?" she asked sweetly, no doubt noticing his regret and perhaps guilt in his eyes. He cursed himself for letting his emotions show.
"I'm sorry dear, but there is something I need to tell you. With the prince dead and only one heir left to the throne, the king found it necessary that the prince have a wife, and provide more heirs to secure the throne."
"Well, Oliver is not going to like that," she said, laughing and wondering why her father had to tell her this news.
Then, remembering that many had questioned her relationship with the prince, suspecting more than a platonic relationship and speculating that she was securing her way as the future princess, she quickly added,
"It's not like that between me and Oliver, I won't care if he marries anyone, it's Ameera isn't it?" she laughed. " She always fancied him and her mother can be very convincing huh?" she did not get the amused reaction she expected from her father, yet again.
Instead, her father's expression grew even graver, and she saw pity in his eyes. Even as he parted his lips to set fire to her universe, Charlotte had already guessed in her heart the words that would come out of his mouth. And even then, she was not ready when he finally uttered the words, " The king has ordered that you marry the prince."
"What?" she asked, refusing to believe even as her brain put forth all the evidence she had failed to notice, even as her father's face refused to burst into a smile to indicate he was joking.
"I'm so sorry…" her father was saying, but she was no longer listening.
Had he known, as they had sat on the wall on their own, had he known and refused to tell her? Is that the reason he was still so angry, and so cold? Is that why he left so abruptly? What would she do? Could she not refuse? No, her father said that the king had ordered, not asked, ordered. And everyone in the kingdom knew better than to question anything the king ordered. What would become of them? What would she do?
She stood up, now pacing around the room, her father forgotten in her head, and now only a part of the furniture she had to walk around. 'I could run away,' she thought.
She could fight, she could find her way around the kingdom, go somewhere so far away no one would ever find her. She could take Adam with her, he always loved adventure, always thought of himself as one of the fugitives in those forbidden novels about rebels and revolutions he read.
Perhaps tonight, they could both leave. Find that adventure they always wanted. He would help her. He would understand. He knew her better than anyone else, he would understand why she had to leave.
Her father was now in front of her, shaking her shoulders, " …do you hear me Charlotte?"
"What," she answered absentmindedly, her mind still far away.
The tunnel. If the guard wouldn't let them though, they could use the tunnel in the dungeons. It would be hard, but it wouldn't be their first time. They would need food, weapons…
"CHARLOTTE!" Her father was no longer pleading. He wore a face he used when commanding officers or driving a point to the council. He rarely used it on her.
Charlotte cowered under his stern voice, his commanding voice sending shockwaves through her bones. She found herself standing still, head bowed in submission as if awaiting a death sentence.
The old knight was just as shocked at his cold voice. But he had to make her understand that there was no alternative but to obey the king. Things had changed. The situation was no longer as it had been before, and there was not much he could do to help her.
Against better judgment, his heart softened. "Charlotte, forgive me, I didn't mean to raise my voice, but you have to understand..."
"It doesn't matter." Charlotte cut her father off, something she had never done before. She wondered where she had drawn the courage to talk back to her father, but she was too angry to care.
She began to walk to her little room beyond her father, but the old knight stopped her with a strong hold on her arm. Even with her rigorous training and his advanced age, she was unable to break from his grasp.
She knew what he wanted her to do. She had had only him as a parent almost her whole life. They could read each other too well when they weren't trying to conceal anything. She gave up trying to free herself, and the old knight loosened his grip on her hand.
"I can't father, I'm sorry but I can't." she sobbed.
"I know, but you have to. You do not have a choice here, I can no longer protect you."
"You shouldn't ask me to do this Father, I shouldn't have to." she felt herself fall to the floor, all energy drained from her body. The warrior in her was defeated. Her father let her, kneeling beside her and watching her closely. Charlotte knew she was failing a test, but his opinion no longer mattered to her.
"I'm sorry, it is my fault." he patted her back, his voice cracking.
She sat and watched her future burn up in flames. All her plans, all her dreams, her wishes, her promises to herself, all gone. All dead.
And suddenly, she was angry. Angry at her father for letting the king make this command. Angry at the king for making the command, angry at Oliver for being the one she had to marry, angry at Frederick for dying, angry at herself for refusing the offer to join the battalion to final training, angry at Adam for being a level behind her. But most of all angry at the person in front of her claiming to love her and yet…
She stood up to leave, looking to mourn for her future privately.
"You cannot leave." her father whispered, almost painfully.
"Why not?" she turned to face him.
"You are required to prepare yourself for the princes' offer to take your hand in marriage. The palace maids will be sent to prepare you."
She almost laughed. Instead, she wiped the tears on her face, took a deep breath, and wore her best 'I am okay with everything that's going on' look.
"Send them to my room when they arrive." Her voice was even. She walked away to her chambers.
The old knight was left standing in the middle of the room. Unused to the powerlessness he felt in that moment. Perhaps he could have helped her escape, he knew that was what was on her mind.
He wondered what her mother would think. She would hate him. More than his daughter hated him now. But unlike his daughter, she had been a forgiving person. The old knight knew he had lost all favor in his daughter's eyes.
But there was nothing he could have done. Everyone knew not to question the king. And it was surely his fault this had happened. He would never forgive himself. He hoped Charlotte would understand, sooner rather than later. He did not have a lot of time.
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