Crown In Thrones.

ROSALINDA

I watched as my daughter and her husband to be walked down the aisle, the Prince's face, Prince Seraphin of the GoldenHeart Kingdom, looked like he had won the lottery, his smile wide and contagious, his eyes twinkling with a spark that melted my heart. But my daughter, Isolde...her eyes were somewhere else, on someone else. My gaze followed her line of sight and I felt my heart sinking when I saw who she was looking.

Sir Galen, one of our finest knights, and her personal guard, he stood amongst the Royal guards, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed on the floor. A pang, sharp and familiar, twisted in my gut. I looked back to Isolde whose eyes were filled with unshed tears. She was walking to her fate, just as I had, but unlike me, she carried a silent scream in her soul.

As they reached the altar and turned towards the High Priest, the ceremony commenced. The air was thick with reverence and the scent of lilies pressed down on us. Whispers of blessings filled the cathedral, a symphony of tradition designed to bind two souls. Just as they were about to say their vows, a sudden tremor shook Isolde's hand. Her fingers, which had been clasped tightly in Seraphin's hand slipped free. I watched as she inched back, then took another step.

"Isolde..." Seraphin voiced out, confusion laced in his tone, a crack appearing in his previously perfect façade. The whole crowd, a sea of noble faces seemed to hold its breath, a collective gasp echoed in the sudden silence. My heart hammered as I watched them both. She looked at me, then back at Seraphin.

"I'm sorry..." She choked and ran off the altar, I stood up, watching her as her pristine white gown billowed behind her like a surrender flag. My heart clenched as she darted towards the lone figure of Sir Galen.

At that moment, I knew what she wanted and needed.

I watched my daughter choose a path I had only ever dreamed of, I realized that I too...could have made the same decision...but I never did.

25 YEARS AGO

I was in my claw-footed bathtub, when I was alerted by the maids that Prince Zade had arrived. A groan rumbled in my chest as I sank deeper into the fragrant suds, hoping to simply drown out the news. The maids just kept on scrubbing my body with a soft loofah.

"Are you displeased, my lady?" My personal maid, Elina, a woman whose uncanny ability to read my moods was both a blessing and a curse asked. 

I scoffed, turning to face her. "He's just one of those sweet-mouthed, sugar coated princes who want power and a pretty princess wife. Nothing more," My tone was sharper than intended, but frankly, I was tired of the thought of another suitor. "They are all the same, Shiny armor, empty promises, and a perpetually surprised look when I don't swoon on command."

She laughed gently as she scrubbed my arm. "My lady, Prince Zade is said to be one of the finest, and most respected princes in the Seven Kingdoms. They say he's not like the others,"

"So I heard," I snorted. "They always say that," My experience had taught me otherwise. My father, King Theron, was more than desperate for an alliance, and I, his only heir, was the unfortunate bargaining chip.

"I'm sure you'd enjoy his company and eventually agree to take his hand in marriage, My lady." Elina persisted while the other two maids who had been silent until now nodded in agreement.

"Sure, when pigs fly." I rolled my eyes, splashing a little water over the rim. It wasn't just a matter of finding a husband, it was about finding someone who saw me, not just the crown or fancy clothes I was destined to wear.

But me....as Rosalinda.

But so far, every prince had failed.

After the bath, I was dressed in my most princess-y attire, a gown of shimmering sapphire silk that trailed like a midnight river, embroidered with silver threads depicting constellations. My hair had been thoroughly combed, braided, and styled into a elaborate updo that felt like a cage around my scalp. I felt like I was going for a parade and not just a interrogation in my father's throne room.

Charming Prince, they said.

Of course. Just like the others.

This was the fifth Prince that had come for my hand in marriage. Five. A new record in my short but illustrious career of Royal rejections.

I had rejected the other four without a second thought.

The first? Not worthy. He spoke of battle strategies while eyeing my bosom.

The second? Too plain. I swore his personality was beige.

The third? Too judgemental. He criticized my preference for archery and swords over needlepoint. As if.

The fourth? Too...welll, ordinary. He had nothing to say that hadn't been regurgitation by a hundred bards already.

A sigh escaped my lips, laced with a familiar exasperation, as I stepped into the huge throne room where my father and mother were already seated on their imposing thrones. The heavy oak doors creaked shut behind me, sealing my fate for the next hour or so.

"Princess Rosalinda!" The announced boomed, his voice echoing in the hall. As I walked closer, my silk gown rustled with each step. My father's face, King Theron, remained impassive, as it always did in these negotiations, a mask of regal authority. My mother, Queen Arabella, on the other hand, had a wide grin plastered across her face, she was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Smile, my darling," she mouthed.

I forced a smile, a brittle, polite curve of my lips that probably looked more like a grimace, which earned me a frown from her. I sighed softly and sat on my throne, smoothing my dress with my fingers, and rearranged my crown. My inner rebel was already plotting an escape route just incase.

"This is one of the finest Princes, Rosalinda. Don't mess things up." my father warned, his voice a low rumble that always managed to pierce through my bravado.

I rolled my eyes, a gesture I knew would earn me a lecture later, and leaned back in my throne. "Uh uh. If he's not a dickhead like the rest. Sure."

"Rosalinda!" My mother scolded, I turned to see her grin vanishing instantly, replaced by a look of sheer scandal, my father, on the other hand, his jaw so clenched to tightly I feared his teeth might crack.

Before I could retort or apologize, whichever rolled off my tongue first, the massive doors at the far end of the Hall opened with a swing. And he walked in.

The rumors were true.

Prince Zade of the Shadowfen Kingdom was, undeniably a striking figure. He moved with a confident grace, his frame was tall and athletic filling out a tunic of deep forest green velvet,  embroidered with silver fen-weeds that seemed to shimmer like moonlight on dark water. A heavy cloak of black fur draped over his broad shoulders, it's clasp a formidable silver. Behind him trailed a retinue: six hulking guards whose hands never stayed far from the hilt of their swords, and a flurry of servants, their hands laden with gifts- chests of jewels probably, and a golden goblet etched with beasts. But my eyes, stubbornly dismissive and judgemental, focused more on the Prince himself. His hair was the color of spun gold, falling in sun-kissed waves that framed a face chiseled from a dream...and his eyes....were a piercing blue, like cloudless summer sky over a deep ocean. They held a depth that was disarming and charming.

"Your Majesties," he bowed, a deep respectful inclination of his head as he stood a few feet away from our thrones, his voice a rich baritone that seemed to vibrate through the stone floor.

"Prince Zade," my father boomed, rising from his throne  and walked towards the Prince, his hand extended in a gesture of welcome. "Welcome to our palace, a true honor to host you."

"I'm more than grateful," he bowed again, a slight charming dip this time. As he rose up, our eyes met, and for a fleeting disorienting moment, I felt my chest tighten, a strange warmth spread through me. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look away.

Damn him and his pretty eyes.

"Now dear," my mother said, her voice dripping with sweetness as she held her hand out for me, her grin back in full force. I reluctantly took it. We walked down the steps and approached the Prince. My mother, ever the orchestrator, let go of my hand which Zade took immediately, his fingers warm against mine. His touch sent a surprisingly pleasant shiver up my arm. 

"It's an honor to finally meet you, Princess Rosalinda," he said, his voice closer now, a soft murmur. "You're even more beautiful than the rumors have said."

"And," I titled my head, pulling my hand back slightly. "You're pretty plain, I suppose?"

I could feel my parents dissaproval radiating from behind me like twin suns of irritation, but instead, Zade simply laughed, showing a set of prefect white teeth. It was a rich genuine sound that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"It seems you have a great sense of humor Princess. A refreshing change. It's like we are off to a great start."

I smirked as I crossed my arms over my chest. "Hmm, you could say so."​