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#the coolest

Sassy mew. (via)

The Accidental Princess (Part 2)

Prince Kit x Reader

Summary: A contract has been found, after twenty years, bearing your name and Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Summary: You get settled in the palace.

Word Count: 4.5k words

Warnings: period typical misogyny, none?

A/N: Hi, guys! I'm trying my best with the taglist so if you didn't get tagged, chances are there's something wrong with the way I did it or you're un-tag-able?? Anyway, I know there are a lot of inconsistencies with this piece of fanfic but let's all just enjoy this lol. The lemon juice ink works, though. You can give that a try. I love hearing all about your thoughts! Reviews, comments, suggestions (and reblogs) are most certainly welcome! Here is Part 2 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

It was an unusual request that you asked for lemons with your writing materials but they delivered. You merely said that those were for you to bite on but truly, it was for you to write a message that only your father could decipher. He had taught you the magic of vanishing ink one night during a particularly dreary travel. He had told you that the true message written with lemon juice would only be revealed on top of an open flame. You had tried it once and you were impressed and now, it was your only means of communicating with him without the rest of the palace knowing. This stratagem had only been used for important missives and what else could be more important than for your father to know that you had been married to the prince for two decades and that you would be kept to the palace indefinitely.

You wrote carefully, telling him to keep the information to himself. You had no ambitions of being a princess and the irony of you being one—or being called an ambitious girl by the Grand Duke—was not lost on you. You kept your secret message short and concise, and you also told him no promises of future missives lest you be found out. Once you were finished with the lemon ink, you let it dry and took to writing the obvious message with ink. You scribbled in between the lines written with lemon juice your requests for your trunks, writing implements, and the many books you were supposed to be reading. The letter was short and direct and you sealed it with wax and a sprig of lavender, your unofficial insignia, so your father would immediately know that the message was from you.

When your letter had been sent, a maid arrived, bearing with her a dress for you to change into. She had been scandalized at seeing you in your undergarments, which you had assured her that they were not, and she took it upon herself to start a bath for you.

“What shall I call you, miss?” asked the maid as she scrubbed your shoulders with warm water and simple soap. You had told her that you were fine with bathing yourself but the surprise on her face made you realize that you had asked for the unusual. Of course, guests of the king were expected to be waited on hand and foot.

“Y/N, please,” you replied. “I’m all but noble so please, do not burden yourself with titles to call me. If you are uncomfortable with calling me by my name, you may continue calling me ‘miss.’”

“It is rare for the king to house a common guest, miss, if you don’t mind me saying.” said the girl.

You smiled to yourself. “I find my situation quite uncommon for a commoner like me.” You washed off the lather. “What may I call you?”

“Abigail, miss,” she replied.

You let out a little chuckle then apologized. “Oh, do forgive me, Abigail. I find your parents quite humorous for naming you such.”

Abigail chuckled as well, to your relief. “They are humorous people, miss. My brother Hunter, he is the palace gamekeeper.”

You chuckled. “Oh, dear me. Your futures are already made out for you at the day of your birth.”

“To work for the king and the kingdom is an honor, miss.”

You turned to your maid slowly, careful of the water that sloshed on the side of the tub. “I haven’t been in the kingdom for quite some time, Abigail. Would you mind telling me what has happened in the last years?”

The maid looked at you uncomfortably. You touched the hand nearest to you and smiled. “I promise I shall not tell a soul of the things you wish to tell me. I am merely curious. If I am to be housed here for a while, I would like to be knowledgeable of what has transpired within these walls.”

Abigail looked around your room, you did as well, before nodding. “The Queen Amalie has died.”

Oh. You had not known that. When she was not present at the throne room earlier the day, you only thought she must have been busy with some other affairs. It did not cross your mind that the beautiful and benevolent queen had passed on.

Poor king. Poor Kit.

“What has happened to her?” you asked.

“She had taken ill one morning in the summer and passed on the day after. The king and the prince were devastated. The whole kingdom as well.”

“When was this?” You settled back on your tub.

“Just the year before,” Abigail started washing your hair. “Since then, the king had been in poor health. He is worried for the kingdom’s future should he soon follow his wife.”

“You do not think the prince capable?” you asked. You had known princes were schooled into being future monarchs since their infancy. Perhaps the Prince Kit was otherwise engaged in other matters, in addition to running the kingdom.

“The prince is very capable, miss. However, the king has stipulated that the kingdom be ruled by a king and a queen. Prince Kit has to marry before he ascends the throne.”

Of course. It was the very reason you were called for, after all. Your presence had been a great hindrance to the future of the kingdom. With you still legally wed to the prince, he would not be able to marry the Grand Duke’s niece.

“Does he have a bride he wishes to wed?” you asked when Abigail passed a cloth for you to dry yourself with. Any woman, noble or not, would be inquisitive towards the future queen of the kingdom. Even one married to said prince. You tried to maintain an air of ignorance on the matters so they would not be suspicious of your coming over to the palace.

“The Grand Duke’s niece, miss. It is said she is a princess from Zaragoza.” The maid let out a towel for you and you stood, taking it and wrapping yourself in it.

A princess. It was now truly understandable the ire the Grand Duke had with you. Who else is a better match for the prince than a princess?

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as you remembered the blue of Kit’s eyes. He had looked over at you appreciatively, even in your disheveled state, and you had reacted in a way you had seen women did with their lovers. You knew you were flustered when you looked at him, felt the heat rise to your cheeks and made an utter fool of yourself by giving an ungraceful curtsy. You were often calm and collected, always poised unless the situation called for you not to be, and in that moment, you stumbled. All because of your husband.

Oh, dear.

You needed to stop calling him thus, even in your head. The king would have you locked in the dungeons if he ever caught you referring to the prince as your husband.

The dress Abigail had given you belonged to one of the former guests of the palace. It was a surprise the palace kept it at all; you knew they disposed of things that did not belong to the king or had them given away to a charity of some sort. But this dress, although a bit late in its design, was beautiful in its own way. Abigail had helped you don it, lacing your corset just right and as she laced the back of the dress, it was a surprise at how well it fit you. It was like it was made for you.

“Have you any knowledge of the Grand Duke?” you asked as Abigail buckled your shoes .

“Whatever do you mean, miss?” She took the other shoe and put it on your feet.

“I was not made aware of his presence only until recently. How did he come to be in our tiny kingdom?”

“He arrived as an adviser to the king, miss, about two years ago. We do not know more than that.”

“I see,” you said and smiled at your maid. “Thank you for your help today, Abigail. I hope you would not mind it if I ask you to give me a tour of the palace? I would not wish to get lost in any of the many rooms.”

“I fear I am not in the position to do so, miss.” Abigail said with a quick bob of curtsy. “Is there anything you require before I leave?”

You looked at yourself before the mirror and smiled. “No, Abigail. I thank you for your help. I shall see you again tonight.”

“Miss,” the young maid said before leaving.

You blew out a breath, walking back to the window and looked at the sea once more. The kingdom had suffered for a while, what with Queen Amalie’s passing and the king in poor health. The sudden revelation of your childish endeavours of being accidentally married to the prince would risk the already crumbling state the kingdom to come apart further. You had to help in any way you could; it was the very least you could do.

You strode out of your room, walking down the long hallway. You had a vague memory of where the library was, supposing it hadn’t been changed in the last two decades you had been in the palace. You recalled it being situated near the gardens on the east of the grand staircase, with ornate double doors of gold gilding. If you remembered correctly, portraits of the current royal family and ones of the prince should be hung on either side of it.

You walked down the hallway quietly, counting the rooms and committing to memory the doors and halls you had passed through lest you be lost when you return to your room. You went down the grand staircase, smiling politely at some footmen who opened doors for you. You stood before said ornate doors that you had remembered and once the footmen opened them, you went in.

The scent of wood and books assaulted your nose and you smiled to yourself. Your last trip abroad had been to Austria and you had asked for your father’s permission to take a little bit of an excursion to their famed Imperial Court Library. The place did not disappoint. Murals and frescoes of heavenly bodies adorned the walls and ceiling, with shelves that housed every possible volume of books you could imagine. It was a beautiful place and somehow, the palace library seemed to take that as an inspiration.

Any books on the politics of the kingdom would be a great help to you and to this predicament you put yourself in. You walked over to the section of the library that you thought housed the books on your kingdom’s laws when you did not notice that you were not alone in the room.

“I see you are getting comfortable in the palace, girl,” you heard the Grand Duke say.

You turned to the man and dropped into a curtsy, keeping your head down. “Your Grace.”

“What are you doing in the library?” he asked you in that way of his. His tone was almost always accusing and suspicious, despite meeting you only for a few minutes.

“I was hoping to get something to read, Your Grace.” You replied as you stood back to your full height.

“Anything in particular that you are looking for?” He walked over to you and looked you down through his hawk-like nose.

“Laws of this land, Your Grace,” you said honestly.

The way he chuckled grated on your skin. It was sarcastic and rude. “You are too comfortable, you ambitious girl. First, you marry the prince and now you wish to learn more about the laws of this land? What shall be next, turn us out of the palace?” He scoffed. “Find some light reading. There is a book on herbology that I find would best fit someone of your stature.”

You gave a polite smile. Like most dignitaries you had met, they often looked down on you. You found it best to let them underestimate you instead of engaging them in a fight head-on. You had the power prove them otherwise in the next opportunity. The Grand Duke needed to be surprised that you were more than what you appeared to be.

“Thank you, Grand Duke.” You replied with a quick bob. “Forgive me for intruding on your time in the library.”

You turned to the other side of the library, plucking from the shelves a book on herbs and plants in the German language, before taking two sheets of paper and a pencil.

“I shall bid you a good day, Your Grace,” you called out as you curtsied in his general direction once more. You saw him wave his hand at you dismissively and it cued you to leave the awful man alone.

In the very least, you knew where the library was located. The book about the laws of the land would have to wait. The book on herbology, however, looked interesting. You were conversant in many a language, reading this German book would not pose a problem. It would keep you occupied while you waited for your trunks to arrive.

You walked out to the gardens, smiling and greeting the footmen politely as you passed them. Most of the flowers in the garden were ornamental; you highly suspect they would own herbs in such a fancy orchard. Either way, it was a lovely day out and it seemed fitting that you read the book outside. You sat on one of the benches and opened the tome, starting off with Digitalis purpurea.

Kit saw you emerge from the doors of the palace. If he were honest with himself, he would say he was disappointed that you weren’t wearing your breeches and shirt anymore and that he couldn’t admire your shapely figure but with the dress you had now donned, there was no mistaking the contours your body. He had not had this visceral reaction to the Princess Chelina’s portrait, but then again, he had not seen her in person. You, however, he had seen you and had admired you. Perhaps, more than admired you. There was something different about you and for the life of him, he could not name what it was.

Other than, of course, you and he were bound in matrimony.

He could not find it in him to be angry with you. It was a peculiar situation you both had gotten into, the innocent intentions and legally binding contracts. You did not seem to be an opportunistic girl. He remembered your hope for a friendship with him, your eagerness in trying to copy your father’s way of sealing such relationships, and the way you were excited when you both had (unintentionally) sealed each other’s fate. It was simply laughable and not worth getting furious over, unlike his father and the Grand Duke.

“I see your father’s guest has taken your fancy, Your Royal Highness,” said his good friend, the Captain of the Guards.

Kit only grinned. “Don’t I always take fancy at the next pretty lady, Captain?”

The man chuckled heartily. “Need I remind you that you are soon to be wed to a princess. If there is a time as any to act on your fancy, it would be now.”

He only raised an amused brow, turning to his friend. “Is that so, Captain? Tell me, have you made any advances towards one of the abigails?”

“Her name is Abigail,” corrected the Captain. “And no, I have not. There is no reason for us to talk. For your father’s guest, however, there is. Any guest of the king is the guest of the prince as well, isn’t it?”

“If only it were that simple,” Kit all but sighed. Even if he and the captain were close friends, it would do more harm than good to tell him of your relationship with each other. His father had been adamant that he divorce the two of you quietly so he could push through with the wedding to the princess.

“Why not march over and talk to her? No one would turn away the prince.”

While he knew that was true, Kit did not want to disturb your peace. You were poring over a book on your lap while your hands were moving over a piece of paper. Scribbling, perhaps? he thought to himself as he looked over at you once more. He heard the captain say some words to him but he was only intent on watching you. He only moved when he saw the captain advance towards you with purposeful strides.

“My lady,” he heard the captain say.

Kit followed behind him, taking on an impassive air about him so he did not seem overeager to be talking with you even though he was. He wanted to speak to you once more ever since his father told him of the reason you were here. There was something in him that told him he had to know you better, other than from the words his father and the Grand Duke had said to him about you. He saw you look up from your page and stood when your eyes landed on him.

“Your Royal Highness, sir,” you curtsied before them.

“My name is Captain Thibault, miss. May I know yours?” the captain asked.

You stood to your height, eyes on Kit before turning to Thibault with a beautiful smile on your face.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N, Captain.” you replied.

Thibault nodded to the book in your hands. “May I?”

You offered the book but his friend took the paper instead.

“Are you an artist, Miss Y/N?” Thibault asked as he showed the piece of paper to Kit. “Your sketch is remarkable.”

Kit had been under the tutelage of Master Phineas and he could see that your sketch was excellent with the way you handled your pencil. Your techniques were impeccable. It was like seeing another master’s artwork.

“No, Captain. I was just finding a way to occupy my thoughts. Luckily, I saw a Digitalis purpurea plant in this beautiful garden and decided to draw it so I can further study it inside my room.”

Kit watched you, enamored at the way you were holding yourself. Any woman would have cowered at the sight of the prince and the Captain of the Guards but you remained yourself. There was no air of pretentiousness or false modesty about you and it was very refreshing for him to see that you weren’t one to fall at his feet and wax poetic about his title or his dashing good looks.

“You study plants?” Kit found himself saying. When you turned to him, he felt himself stop at the look of your eyes.

“Oh, no.” You looked at him with your arresting eyes. “The Grand Duke suggested that I read a book on herbology because it befits my stature instead of taking the book I was intending to read. The first plant I saw when the book opened was thus.”

He raised a brow at that. “And what was it that you wanted to read?”

When you caught your lower lip between your teeth, it was a surprise that he did not catch on fire on the spot.

“The laws of the land, Your Royal Highness,” you murmured.

“The laws of the land?” Thibault asked, passing your scrap of paper back to you. “Whatever for?”

“My… friend desires to learn of the grounds of separation. She is convinced she isn’t a fit match for her husband.” You clamped the sheet in between the pages of the book.

German, Kit noted as he peeked at the title of the book you were holding. He learnt German when he was a child and had turned conversant in it. He was suddenly curious as to how you had learned such an arduous language.

“If I may inquire,” Thibault said. You watched the captain with curious eyes. “Why is the lady convinced she is not suit for her husband?”

Kit realized what reply you had given a few seconds before and watched you silently.

“For one, her husband is so above her in stature. It is an unusual marriage, if I dare say so, Captain.” You told them. Your eyes landed on Kit’s once more. “They had unmistakably signed a marriage contract and had been bound since.”

Kit’s lips twitched into a small smile and he found you give him a shy one of yours. Your offense was great in the eyes of his father but to him, it was comical. Absurd and laughable. If Sir William Shakespeare were alive and present, he would have another comedy in his hands.

“You are right, miss. That is unusual.” Thibault said. “But no matter. Should you wish to come back to the library, I am certain His Royal Highness would be of great help to you.”

Kit saw his friend turn to him and he cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Although, I must warn you, the language the laws were written in are in English and some in Latin.”

You smiled, a dimple sinking into your cheek. “It is no matter. So long as the passage is not wholly in Latin, I think I shall understand it.” You told them.

Thibault gave you a polite smile. “Shall I escort you back to the palace, miss? Perhaps even to the library?”

“I thank you, Captain, but I must decline. I wish to tarry just a little. It is a beautiful day out and it would be such a waste to not bask in the sunlight.” You replied.

“Shall we take a turn about the gardens, then?” Kit asked. “I am sure Captain Thibault is needed by his Guards to command them.”

You looked at him, surprised. You flushed as your eyes collided with his and he would not soon forget the rosy hue that came upon your cheeks. Even with all the beautiful flowers that surrounded you, your beauty, to him, was incomparable.

Thibault only smiled in understanding and bowed. “Your Royal Highness.”

“I would not turn down a walk about the gardens.” You turned to Thibault and held out your hand as if asking for a handshake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain Thibault.”

The Captain instead kissed the top of it. “And you as well, Miss Y/N.”

You blushed once more and then slipped your hand on Kit’s offered arm, walking beside him. Kit loved the garden like his mother did. The royal gardener had maintained well the bushes and the flowers. You were right; it would be a waste to spend the day indoors when it was beautiful like this outside.

“Nice day out,” Kit commented when the silence stretched on.

“Yes, it is, Your Royal Highness.” You said with a smile in your voice.

You tilted your head towards the sky and his eyes followed the outline of your face. A strong nose. Flushed cheeks. Flecks of spots across your nose. The little scar. You looked like you belonged in the lively rays of the sun, not inside the cold formality of the palace.

He caught himself looking at you for longer than what was permitted. “Please, call me Kit.” he said as he cleared his throat, turning away from you.

“Oh, I don’t think it proper that I do.” You murmured. You looked straight ahead now as you both walked aimlessly about.

“I insist,” Kit said once more. “After all, we are wed, are we not?”

Your hand squeezed his arm and he felt the heat of your palm even through the sleeves of his coat. “I apologize for that. It was not my intention to ensnare you in marriage.”

“I know,” was all he said. “May I call you Y/N?”

“You may call me whatever you wish,” you said as you bent and plucked a sprig of lavender.

“If I shall call you by your name, you have to call me by mine. It is a fair exchange.” He said with a smile as he watched you sniff the bud.

You smiled as you looked at him. “Still, it is improper, Your Royal Highness.”

“If you carry on calling me that, I shall call you that as well. You are a princess of this kingdom, after all,” he said lightly.

When you remained quiet, he nodded at the flower in your hands. “Do you like lavenders?”

“They are my favorite. I seal my letters with a sprig of this so people know they are from me.” You opened the book and placed the bloom in between the scraps of paper you had inside. “There is a reason why I wanted to read the laws of the land. I wish to help with this predicament of ours.”

Kit only hummed, walking about with you.

“Your father wishes you to be wed.” You told him, this time with a much firmer tone of voice.

“You do not wish to remain wed to me?” he joked.

“I am no princess,” was all you said. It was neither an affirmation nor a negation. Something inside Kit dared to hope. “I would not want to stand in the way of the future of the kingdom.”

He raised a brow and turned to you. You looked at him.

“You’re hardly in the way,” he said, looking deeply into your eyes.

You gave a shy smile. “Are you really as benevolent as your mother? Finding no fault even when I made such a terrible faux pas?”

All the jesting left him at the mention of his mother. It still felt quite taboo for the kingdom to talk about such terrible happening. He thought he had come to terms with it but he had not, judging from his reaction.

Your hand squeezed his arm once more. You both stopped in your tracks.

“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness. I spoke too liberally.”

He nodded stiffly.

“I shall let you be—”

“Kit! Is that you, cousin?”

Kit turned slowly to the voice behind him. His cousin made his way towards the both of you jauntily, smiling as if he did not intrude upon a serious conversation.

“Your father told me I was to find you here with Captain Thibault. I passed the good man on my way and he told me you were in the presence of a lady.” His cousin said.

Kit cleared his throat, nodding again. “Yes. Louis, this is a… friend, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. Miss Y/N, this is my cousin.”

Louis took your hand and bowed over it, kissing your knuckles. “Louis Toussaint, Duke of Granville.”

You let go of Kit’s arm, dropping into an elegant curtsy. “Your Grace.” you said. Kit was positive he heard a smile in your voice.

“Louis shall suffice, Miss Y/N.”

Kit saw the devious smile on his cousin’s face.

You rose to your height, smiling prettily at his cousin. “Very well, Louis.” You said readily.

Kit only raised his brow… and tamped down the vile green-eyed monster that had suddenly come up him.

The Accidental Princess (Part 1)

Prince Kit x Reader

Summary: A contract has been found, after twenty years, bearing your name and Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Word Count: ~3.4k words

Warnings: lots of ye olde words (maybe they sound pretty cringe??) period-typical misogyny?? that's it???

A/N: Hi, everyone! Yep, I am still on hiatus so updates for this one wouldn't be regular. This is supposed to be a Cinderella 2015 ff but I think the story feels too straightforward so I took some liberties with this one. I'm still using some characters and there will be new ones. It's a pretty different fic compared to Snapshot and Savior. It's a hUGE departure from it. I appreciate your comments and thoughts about this. I'd like to hear whatever it is you have to say about it: from the cringe ye olde words to the period-typical misogyny to the whole chapter if you find it confusing, etc. Not beta'd still so all mistakes are mine. Here is The Accidental Princess! (title subject to change)

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

Once upon a time, there was a girl who accidentally married the prince.

That would have been a story to be told for ages, you thought wryly to yourself.

You had met The Brothers Grimm before during one of your travels with your father to the far away land of Prussia. They were an odd sort; old men who you would have never thought to have been the author of the short tales you loved reading as a child. There were semblances of them in their stories, if one judged a person by their looks. Stories of beautiful beginnings followed by sorrow and dread. After all, not every once upon a time ended with a happy ever after.

I wonder how they would have written my story, you thought to yourself as you stood before the king.

You had been summoned to the palace the moment your ship had docked into your home kingdom’s port. There was no preamble as to why you were wanted; they only loaded you into the carriage and had presented you to your monarch without so much as a change of clothing. You were not vain but it would do well to be wearing the proper attire when meeting the king. Instead, you had met him in your leather breeches and your silk dress shirt, which in itself was scandalous, but not as scandalous as knowing the reason why you were there.

“You see, my son is to marry the Grand Duke’s niece but we find ourselves in an unusual predicament,” said the king as he stood from his throne.

You had no voluminous skirt to tuck your hands into when you were nervous. Instead, you only clenched them at your front, holding on to them like a lifeline.

“My secretary has found a marriage certificate binding you and my son in matrimony.” The king said as he stood before you. The king was an old man, stooping now but it did not dampen the commanding aura he had about him. “You had been married to my son for twenty years.”

That would have made you a child of six when you got married but you could not remember anything as far as that. Or anything at all involving a ceremony where you and the prince had been proclaimed married. Surely, there must have been a mistake.

You cowered a little, stepping backward as discreetly as you can. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it seems I have no idea of this certificate of which you speak.”

“Insolent child!” cried the Grand Duke. He was a stocky-looking man with a shock of blond hair that extended to his jaw and a moustache that twirled on its ends. There was something antagonistic about him. But then again, it was his niece the prince was promised to and he had every right to call you names for your ignorance of the matter.

“My apologies, Grand Duke,” you curtsied.

“Tell me your name once again, child,” commanded the king.

You stood again, keeping your head low in respect for the monarch and said your name.

“If you are who you say you are, then it must be you who signed this contract.” The king waved over a footman and took the scroll from him, unravelling it for you to see.

You looked it over and stopped as you saw the familiar scrawling of your name. It was definitely by your hand when you were six. It was a mess of letters but was discernible enough for them to read your name. Beside it was Prince Kit’s inscription, no better than yours but still enough to be recognized as the kingdom’s future monarch’s writing.

The wax seal between your names brought back a dormant memory.

You watched closely as your father, the king’s diplomat, pour hot wax on the lower part of the parchment. It was a rich blue with gold flecks, a symbol of your country’s opulence. You were always curious as to why he did that ritual of pouring wax and laying his ring on top of it after having both men sign the paper. You had asked him what it was for.

“It is a promise, Y/N,” your father had replied as he took off his signet ring and placed it sigil-down on the paper.

“Like friendship, papa?” you had asked in your small, excitable voice.

Your father had chuckled. “Of a sort. This paper is a memory of that friendship with our country and this country’s king.”

“Can I do it with my friends, papa?” You watched with curious eyes, taking note of the written contents on the piece of parchment even if you were unable to read. It was no matter; your papa will teach you. You were eager to employ this newfound knowledge and practice with your future friendships.

“Of course, mon petit. I shall have to teach you how to write your name so you can sign your promise.”

You had remembered the process. First, your father took a scroll from his sheaf of papers. He signed his name first, then the ambassador. They shook hands. Your father poured hot wax and placed his sigil on the promise then placed it on a different sheaf of papers.

Oh, no.

You recalled the moment. You had visited the palace with your father and he had let you play around the grounds while he conducted business with the king. You found the Prince Kit in the garden alone and approached him with the idea of trying out your newfound way of sealing friendships. You had not realized you plucked a marriage certificate from the Great Study, because, truly, all of your father’s contracts were one and the same and you had assumed as much for all the papers. You had innocently scrawled your name, taking good care in spelling it right as your father had told you. The prince had done the same and with your father’s signet, you sealed your—and the prince’s—fate.

“You recognize it then,” said the king as he snatched the offending paper away.

“Your Majesty—”

“You ambitious girl!” cried the Grand Duke once more and you shut your mouth immediately.

“Grand Duke.” There was a warning edge to the king’s tone. He turned to you once more. “You recognize this certificate.”

“It was not my intention to bind myself in marriage to the prince, Sir.” You swallowed. “My father introduced contracts to me as a way of keeping friendship. As a child of six, I did not know of diplomacy or the legitimacies of binding contracts nor the numerous different kinds of it. I only took the paper as I had assumed all were one and the same. I signed my name and had the prince sign his and stamped it with my father’s signet that he had me hold for safekeeping. I did not know that any agreement signed by the prince and sealed with the royal stamp would be legally binding even at so young an age.”

The silence that echoed in the throne room stretched on. Your boots scraped on the marble floor and you were once again reminded that you were not fit to be presented in front of the king. Women , even common folk, were expected to be in dresses and long skirts. You shunned the article of clothing whenever you were travelling the waters, finding breeches, shirts, and practical boots better than the full hoops of the skirt that often got in the way whenever you walked down the deck of the ship. The sailors were used to seeing you in this garb and did not find it offending at all that you were not dressed like a lady but to the eyes of the king and the Grand Duke and perhaps the many a footman you had passed before entering the throne room, you looked positively bohemian.

“We will keep you in the palace, Y/N,” said the king, which made you look up at him again.

Evidently, the news shocked the Grand Duke as well because he turned to the monarch.

“We will keep you in the palace until we find a solution to this impasse.”

“Of course, Sir,” you only muttered because what else was there to say?

“Surely, you understand the delicacy of this matter. I would not have you proclaiming to the people you are the new princess—or rather, had been their princess for near two decades already.”

You were affronted but you did not show it. You had no right to show indignation towards the king.

“In here, you are contained. You shall still be free to roam the palace grounds as you please but we will not have you out of it. If so, you shall have a chaperone and we would be informed of your itinerary.”

You merely nodded. You were a creature of adventure; the very notion of being confined within palace grounds was comparable to having your wings clipped. But you had started this problem, Y/N, and you must pay for your childish ignorance, you thought to yourself.

You were to set sail with your family again to meet with more foreign dignitaries. It had been your life; travelling from one kingdom to another. You had learned of cultures and languages, of food and dance, and everything it was that you could ever beheld. Your tiny kingdom was beautiful but the world beyond held more possibilities that you never once thought was within your grasp.

Oh, how you would have wanted to walk your father’s footsteps as the kingdom’s new diplomat. You learned from the best; your father had made you his apprentice and had taught you everything he knew of his trade. People still underestimated you. It was unheard of for someone from the fairer sex to be an ambassador, so you never truly tried. You only acted as an adviser to your father within the confines of his office walls, honing your innate talent of persuasion and diplomacy.

“Since I am common folk,” you started, not realizing that you had addressed the king before he addressed you. “Your Majesty, since I am common folk, my presence in the palace will arouse suspicion.”

“It is all being taken care of. My sister’s children will be arriving soon and you shall pose as a guest with them.” He nodded to himself, satisfied with his idea. “You were merely early in your arrival.”

“I would need my trunks with me, Your Majesty. I have arrived empty-handed.”

He looked you from your hair to your boots. “Are all your clothes thus?”

You straightened. “No, Sir. This is what I wear when I am travelling the seas. I do not find it practical to wear a skirt whilst I am on deck and the tides are high.”

“Ah, yes. You travel with your father as he is one of my diplomats. How is he?” He started making his way back to his throne.

“My father is well, I thank you for asking, Your Majesty.” You took a deep breath and watched him. You wiped your palms against your leather breeches.

“You shall send for a missive for your trunks. I cannot have you leaving the palace so soon after we have talked.”

You nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“You may go.”

You curtsied again. “My king,” you genuflected at the monarch before doing the same to the Grand Duke. “Your Grace.”

You stepped backwards, keeping the front of your body towards the king as you slowly went out of the throne room. Once the doors had closed, you blew out a sigh and straightened, only to knock against someone behind you. You turned and gasped, rooted in place.

It was the prince. Prince Kit with his dark hair and intense eyes. He had grown handsome over the years, which shouldn’t surprise you because his father had been a handsome man when he was younger. Kit—were you allowed to address him as Kit in your mind?—had a set look on his face, a bit reminiscent of his father’s gaze as he watched you. Broad of shoulder and fit of body, his muscled legs were encased in tight white breeches and his coat brought out the color of his eyes. They were as blue as the sea and as clear as the sky.

Your husband. What an absurd notion!

“Steady,” he said as he held you by your arms.

You swallowed. As much as you wanted to look away, you cannot. His gaze held you, searching your eyes and quite frankly, perhaps even your soul. Even if you had nothing to hide, you were scared of the things he would find there. Like the matter of you being bound to him in marriage.

Your heart skipped a beat. It had nothing to do with you being nervous at him finding out about your accidental ploy of being married to him but more with the fact that you had never been looked at like how he was looking at you before. Your appearance was unkempt and you had not been able to properly re-braid your hair but something about his stare made you feel like you were much more beautiful than you truly look. He made you feel emotions not even the best of the world could offer and for the life of you, you didn’t know why.

Your knees buckled and you bent down in an ungraceful curtsy. “Your Highness,” you said with a shaky breath. “My apologies.”

“Ah, Kit! I thought the hunt would have run you ragged.” You heard the king as the door opened.

You felt someone grasp at your arm to pull you to your full height and away from the king and the prince. You looked at the prince once more, only to find him looking back at you as well.

Kit was, for all intents and purposes, an apprentice. His whole life he was schooled to be the next king of his father’s kingdom. He was taught to be a soldier to know of battle strategies. He had masters who taught him philosophies and history. He was knowledgeable in at least three languages because his parents had insisted he learn two more so he can converse with more people. He was, essentially, an apprentice monarch. And a king, even one still learning the trade, needed a queen.

Which brought him to the matter at hand. His father had promised his hand to the Grand Duke’s niece, a princess from Zaragoza. He had never met her before and was only sent a portrait that he and his father had looked at and deemed her beautiful. Her country was bountiful and their little territory needed to expand its borders. Marrying a princess from a rich country was the correct step in ensuring the best for the kingdom. It was what his father had done when he married Kit’s mother. It was fortunate that his parents had fallen in love despite the circumstances of how they met.

“I was not aware the Princess Chelina is arriving today,” Kit asked as he pried his eyes away from your retreating figure.

It was unusual for him to see a princess not in their finest clothes , either, especially one from a country that was advertised to him as bountiful and rich. He had no qualms, however, about seeing you in such a state. Clad in what was most likely your undergarments, you were a small person than what your portrait let on. You came only until his nose and even then, you still seemed tinier. Your legs were enclosed in buckskin leather, much like his own when he went hunting, and it made him wonder if maybe you hunted as well. You wore a dress shirt that was tucked in the waistband of your breeches and it accentuated your rounded hips. You wore none of those heeled shoes he knew ladies favored. Instead, you feet were clad in flat boots that went up to your knees and showcased your perfect calves. Albeit you were dressed inappropriately, it did not escape him that you were dressed practically. And sensually, he thought to himself.

You were beautiful in your portrait but in person, you were exquisite. The painter failed to capture the smattering of freckles across your nose or the hints of lightness on your hair. There was a small scar on the side of your cheek that he did not notice when he beheld your picture; perhaps the painter found it wise to not include the blemish lest it deterred him from making an offer of marriage to you, even if it was not his idea to be wed to you.

“Heavens, no. I would never associate myself with that–that thing.” The Grand Duke said, looking at your back in what could only be termed as disgust.

Kit raised a brow. So, you were not the princess. “I would assume that thing would have a name and a purpose?” He looked over at his father. “Father?”

“Walk with me, boy,” was all the king said. “Thank you, Grand Duke. We do not need you in this talk.”

Kit followed his father down the Hall of Portraits. He remembered his lessons of his family’s history, of the important people who had changed the laws and lives of many. King Alphonse. Queen Mariam. Queen Amalie, his mother. He knew it best not to dwell on his mother’s untimely death around his father, who he knew was still mourning her. She had left them so suddenly and they both had not been the same ever since. It did, however, brought them closer.

“Kit,” his father started as they arrived in the garden. “There is a matter I wish for you to know.”

Rarely did his father venture this far into the garden. His mother had kept a small alcove for her personal use, locked away but still kept clean by the royal gardener. Kit often went there when he needed a time for himself. His father did not.

“Yes, father?” Kit asked, watching his father closely as he sat.

“You are promised to Princess Chelina,” he said, to which Kit nodded. “But there is a small matter we must address before you wed her.”

He raised a brow. “Does she not want to be wed?”

“She wishes to be wed to you, Kit. However, we find ourselves at a loss for something you have done twenty years ago.” He patted the space beside him at the bench and Kit sat.

Twenty years ago? He would have been eight by then.

“Are we bringing up old sins, father? Because if we are, I do not remember what I had done at eight years old that would bear remembering.”

“My boy,” the king clasped his son on the shoulder. It was a fatherly touch but also that of a king, a touch that brooked no argument.

“You are already married.”

Kit frowned. Married? Surely, he has not signed anything akin to a marriage agreement.

“Married? I don’t remember meeting the Princess Chelina or signing a marriage contract.”

“It is because you are not married to the Princess of Zaragoza.” The king sighed wistfully. “You had been married for two decades, Kit.”

“Father, I must ask you to speak plainly. I’m married for two decades? And not to the Princess Chelina? Then who am I married to?”

“My boy.” The king looked over at one of the many rooms of the palace. Kit followed the line of his sight and found that he was staring at you. You, in your unusual clothes, watching the sea from your room.

“You have been married to a commoner, to Y/N Y/L/N, since you were eight.”

Y/N. The name sounded familiar to him. And then he knew. He remembered; the girl he had invited inside his mother’s secret garden and had played with under his favorite tree. You had brought a paper to him—a promise of friendship, you had said—and he signed it with no hesitation.

“Y/N is that girl you thought was the Princess Chelina, my boy. And she is your wife.”

He looked at the lone figure inside the palace again.

He was married to you.

The Accidental Princess (Part 6)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found, after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Summary: A solution has been considered for your predicament. You and the Princess Chelina go to the town square and you make another disturbing revelation.

Word Count: 8.3k words

Warnings: period-typical misogyny, badly translated Spanish sentences, mentions of poisoning, scientific names of plants (is that a warning??) that's it??

A/N: Hello again everyone!! Long time no update! I'm so sorry it took a while to churn this out. Had been busy with my health and with paperwork and life, in general. Not to mention, I did sorta lose interest in this but i feel like it's a story worth telling. So here's 8.3k of too-many-things-going-on to make up for it. Anyway, TAGLIST is still OPEN! (especially now that idk when I'll be updating again) Thoughts, reviews, comments, suggestions, requests (and reblogs) are very much welcome. Not beta'd, we die like men. Please enjoy Part 6 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

You are here to divorce Kit. You are not here to fall in love with him, you thought as you left your room.

Yet, you managed to do so, falling with all your heart and soul and being. It was impossible not to. He made you feel alive and beautiful, worthy of being loved by someone you love. He was the prince in your fairy tales come to life and it was unfortunate that you were not the princess destined to be with him. The princess for him—the born-princess—was Princess Chelina. It was not you and, in your heart, you knew the bitter truth of it. You were not the chosen one for Kit.

You walked to the library silently, sullenly, book clutched to your chest. You promised yourself to keep Kit away from your thoughts. Instead, you would dedicate the day to helping the King and the Grand Duke with the problem you caused. The laws and politics of the kingdom held all the answers to your problems.

You had read through almost all of Queen Amalie’s books and found the same information as the rest of them. You were tired of reading the same passage over and over again, even from different volumes, and now you were set on getting a book about the laws of the land. It was nearly impossible to find one because the Grand Duke had sequestered for himself the shelves that held the tomes. He believed that you were to cause more harm than good. Frankly, it was insulting especially the way he told you of it, but you understood his reasoning. You did have placed yourself and Kit in this position.

A position you do not wish to rid yourself of, you said to yourself. A situation that you never thought you wished to remain in for as long as you lived because you had someone you loved and who loved you in return.

I love you for who you are, you heard Kit’s voice in your mind say. You’ve possessed me. You own my heart and my soul. Everything I am is now yours.

You shook your head, clearing your mind of the memory of his confession, of the look in his eyes, of the conviction in his voice. No, you thought yourself with a steely resolve and an aching heart. No more. You were here to divorce the prince. It was why the king had asked of you to come to the palace. It was why you refused to tell Kit that you loved him.

You entered the library, craning your neck and finding no one else inside the room. You replaced the botany and herbology book with the others in its collection and made your way to the section of the laws of the kingdom.

You did not know where to start. You had not been in a situation as such before but you knew it was best to start perusing the law books for the solution. Bringing down a number of tomes and setting them down on the table, you proceeded to go over the pages to look for anything that would solve your plight. You skimmed through passages and bylaws, going through books in record speed but finding none that helped in your predicament.

It had been hours after and you had not made any improvements since you had started. You did, however, learn more of the history of the kingdom and the various decrees pertaining to land owning and of trading and selling. You brought the last of the books you had taken down from the shelves to you, opening it and watched as the pages part to a chapter marked with a piece of parchment. Curious, you went to that section and read through it.

There was no writing on the parchment but you held on to it to replace it once you were done with passage. The ink had faded from the page but the words were still discernible. It told of the kingdom, most especially the rules on the owners of some plots of lands throughout the king’s territory. Your eyes swept over the page, seeing words of ridges and islands and ownership by the queen. You skimmed through most of it, not fully reading it if until you saw the words “matrimony” and “divorce” or any other derivatives of those. When your search proved futile, you flipped to another page.

You riffled through the whole of the book once more and again, like with all the tomes before it, there had been nothing about divorces. You took to replacing all of the books back in the shelves but as you were to pick out another set, you heard the footfalls on the carpeted floor.

You turned, finding the king’s secretary making his way to you. Your stomach fell at the thought of speaking with the king. He would have known of his son’s confession to you a week since. Surely, he would have words to tell you about it. It was the opposite of what he was trying to achieve. He wanted you to be separated but instead, he would find his son attached and in love with you.

The man bowed before you. “Your Royal Highness,” he said.

You felt your throat close in on itself at your title. Of course the man knew. He had been the one who found the marriage certificate between you and Kit. And he was the only one to address you appropriately.

“Your presence is required in the Great Study.”

You cleared your throat, bobbing a quick nod at the man. “Of course. Please, lead the way.”

You clasped your hands together, feeling them cold and sweaty and you wiped them on your skirt. If they could not find any solution to your marriage, perhaps the next course of action was to keep you locked in the dungeons for treachery or some other law that would apply to you. That was one way to be rid of you.

The walk to the Great Study suddenly felt longer than it usually took. You knew you were scared of what the king would say, especially if he had found out that his son loved you, instead of the princess they had chosen for him. You could not make it your case that you were in love with Kit as well. That would have incriminated you. It would do nothing to the predicament but only make it much more complicated than it already was.

You stepped in the Great Study, still as nervous. At the massive table before the fireplace sat the king. The Grand Duke sat on his own table, much smaller than the king’s but equally busy.

“Thank you, Giles. Child, come forward.” The king said.

You walked over to them, curtsying when you stopped. “Your Majesty. Your Grace.”

“Yes, yes,” the king said distractedly. “There are some matters I would like to ask you, Y/N.”

Stomach rolling, you nodded. “Of course, Sir.”

“You know very well the purpose as to why you were brought here,” he started. He rose from his seat and started to make his way to you.

The Grand Duke remained in his seat but his eyes were kept on your person. There seemed to be an unusual glint in them, not quite like the ire that was ever-present but something more triumphant.

You nodded mutely, eyes returning on the king. “Yes, Sir.”

“I believe we have found a solution to the problem. There is, however, the small matter of us knowing a few details before we pass this on to the magistrate.”

You nodded again.

The king looked around the room and nodded the footmen away. When the last footfalls vanished behind the sound of closing doors, the monarch cleared his throat.

“This solution we have found, it requires the assistance of a physician.”

“A physician?” you asked in a small voice. As nervous as you were, you knew this conversation would not have anything to do with Kit’s confession. That meant, then, that the king had not heard of it at all. You did not know if you were relieved or all the more nervous.

The Grand Duke now stood and looked at you with a stare that made you shiver in repulsion. You could not name the very glint that was in his eyes but you knew, whatever it was to come out of his mouth, it would be disgusting to you.

“Why else would we need a physician for?” The nobleman asked, tone mocking. He did not wait for you to answer his question. Instead, he carried on with an air of nonchalance. “Of course, it is to see if you still have your virtue intact,” he spat.

You recoiled at the statement, stepping back at the surprise of it. His delivery of it was callous and casual as though it was an everyday pronouncement he was to say.

“I beg your pardon?” you exclaimed, offended, words leaving your mouth without another thought.

“The only proof needed is word that the union has not been consummated. The magistrate will surely grant the divorce once we have word and we submit the contract with his findings.” The king told you. He was not as tactless in his delivery as the Grand Duke but he was not careful in it as well.

You felt as though you were merely being treated as an object that was for them to prod and examine. You straightened, refusing to shrink at their words. You turned back to the offending nobleman.

“Your Grace,” you said with a hard tone, affronted that he seemed to imply that you were clumsy with your virtue. “There is no need for a physician to check on me. I can assure you that my virtue is intact and that I had not had any sort of relations at all.”

He harrumphed. “It is stipulated in the law. We are not to just take your word that you are still a virgin as you claim to be and not a loose woman.” He sneered. “Who knows? You could be lying again, like you had when you had the prince sign the marriage contract after telling him it was for friendship.”

“So, you shall subject me to an inspection by the physician immediately instead of looking for other… less invasive procedures?” you asked him rather boldly. What he was asking of you was more than just invasion of your physicality as a woman. He questioned your very morals as a lady.

“Remember why you are here, Y/N,” the king warned. “Need I remind you that you brought this upon yourself.”

You turned to the king. “I do not need reminding, Your Majesty. I am always made aware of what I had done. Rarely a day goes by without the Grand Duke sneering at me for my fault.”

You stood tall, eyes returning to the Grand Duke. “But may I also remind you, sir, that I am not just any person in this household. I am the prince’s wife. I have let all of you tread on me as though I am merely the ground you walk on. I believe I am entitled to a modicum of respect, if not for being Kit’s wife, then at least for being human.”

“Respect?” The Grand Duke fumed. He went puce on the face at your request. “You wish to ask for respect after insulting me!”

“I did not insult you, Your Grace,” you told him simplistically.

“You and your vulgar mouth! You demand respect yet you do not give it to me!” He shouted.

You wetted your lips, taking a deep breath as you continued looking at the angry man. “Forgive me for not submitting to your will, Your Grace, but I implore you to see that you have not afforded me the same treatment I had been giving you. Just because I am not born into nobility does not mean that I should not be respected. I am human, sir, as are you. Our only difference is you are titled and I am not. To you, I am merely someone you view as a problem for unknowingly marrying the prince. That is not a suggestion for you to act towards me with disrespect.”

“Why you—!”

The king held up a hand. The noble stopped his oncoming tirade, face looking rather red and angry. The king, however, remained silent. He only watched you with his steely eyes.

You swallowed but held your resolve. Nobility or not, he had insulted you. No self-respecting person would let the disrespect continue. You knew you were kind but even with your kindness, you would not allow yourself to be thus treated all for the sake of being good to them.

You turned to the king. You took a deep, steadying breath before you pressed on with your cause. You kept your tone level. You had angered the Grand Duke. It would not do well for you to anger the king too.

“If I may, Your Majesty, but might I suggest you ask your son on this matter as well? The prince and I did not have the opportunity to consummate the union. We may have been married for twenty years but we only know of each other for nearly three weeks of it. We have not spent much time in one another’s company because I do not wish to invoke more of the ire from you or the Grand Duke.”

The king kept his eyes on you. Your stomach rolled at the intensity of his gaze. Then he did the unimaginable and nodded at you, seemingly to agree with your plea.

“Very well,” was all he said.

And it was not what the Grand Duke wanted.

“Your Majesty! Are you going to take the word of a-a--country girl over that of an esteemed physician?” he asked, incredulous.

“I have no reason to doubt her, Grand Duke. She has been honest with us.” The king said. His tone was hard and commanding, the very tone of a king. He turned his eyes to you. “But know this, child. If the magistrate requires the word of a physician, you shall be subjected to an examination for further proof.”

You had no choice but to nod. It seemed fair for the king to heed your words first before having a physician examine your… chastity.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You promised.

“Very good.” The king nodded. He turned to his adviser, nodding at him. “You may go and fill the papers of the information, Grand Duke. You may send them to the magistrate when you are done.”

The Grand Duke, still red in the face, started to argue. “But, Your Majesty—”

“Do as I say, Grand Duke. We are not to waste time.”

The nobleman nodded stiffly and bowed. “Your Majesty,” he said stiffly. When he turned to go, his eyes caught yours, and in them was contempt for everything you had said.

You stepped aside to let him pass but he grabbed your arm as he did so. He yanked you to him, drawing a surprised gasp from you, and sneered.

“Do not disrespect me again, girl. You are lucky the king is in a forgiving mood. I, however, am not.” He tightened the grip on your arm, eliciting a small cry of pain from you. “Tread lightly. Cross me once more and it will be your last.” He dropped your arm before going away.

You felt the imprints of his hand on your silk-clad arm and you winced at how he had squeezed it in his anger. You straightened and turned to the monarch. He had returned behind his desk and appeared to be unaware of the brief but brutal exchange you had with the Grand Duke before he left.

“There is another thing I must ask of you,” he said from his seat.

You waited for the king. You pressed your hands further in your skirts, tangling them with the cloth, feeling your nerves shake in anxiety. Was he to send you to the gallows for standing for yourself against his adviser before him? There had never been a time that you demanded for respect from any of the nobles because you had been awarded of that the moment you entered their kingdoms. You had been treated unfairly by that man and you would not stand for it any longer.

“The Duke of Granville is sent away on business and he has taken his sisters with him. The Princess Chelina would need to be kept occupied while the duke is out and with my son resuming his training.”

You only bobbed your head in agreement, unsure of what it was the king was asking of you. You were still reeling from all that had transpired before.

“I would like for you to keep her company. She is to visit the square today but there is no one to take her. I gather you would be available for it since you are unoccupied in your time.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” You said quietly.

“Very good,” he said again. “You are to leave when she is ready.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“That is all.”

You curtsied, hearing the roaring in your ears as the king sent you on your way. The king was kind to not mind your outburst, although his adviser had been rather too affected of your demand. It was not in you to antagonize anyone but the nobleman had been quite against you since your arrival. Had the king not been present, you were sure the Grand Duke would have blatantly insulted your very being or perhaps would even have taken the liberties to send you to the dungeons for your disrespect. That man was horrid in every way possible. Hopefully his niece was not the same.

The carriage was waiting for you and the princess when you had exited the Great Study. There had been not enough time to change into your walking apparel so instead, you only took your pouch of your allowance with you and made your way towards the awaiting coach. The Princess Chelina had arrived a few minutes after, looking every bit put together and poised like the royalty she was.

You and she had not interacted outside of formalities and brief exchanges about the weather. She was your opposite; she would rather be confined inside the palace than be out in the gardens, she preferred music and you chose books, and she was reserved while you were quite open. While there had been this great a difference, her actions towards you did not tell you that she viewed you an enemy, unlike her uncle. Rather, she was friendly and kind. Still, you were wary of her because she was his kin.

The carriage ride had been silent. You had waited for her to start a conversation, but she seemed to be contented in watching the land. When you had arrived at the town square, Princess Chelina was indifferent to the place. You had asked her of her opinion of it and she only muttered: “quaint and charming.”

“Tell me of yourself, Miss Y/N,” the Princess Chelina urged as you both walked down the streets of the town square.

You looked up at the princess and gave her a polite smile. “There is nothing for me to tell. I am but the daughter of one of this kingdom’s diplomats, Your Royal Highness.”

“How did you come to be a guest of the king?” she asked.

You greeted the merchants that you had met on your trip before. “There are some… foreign matters that the king wishes to discuss with me.”

“You are knowledgeable in them?”

“Only to a certain extent,” you replied. You smiled at a passing merchant who tipped his hat to greet you.

“Miss!” The apple merchant waved when he saw you.

You looked at the man and beamed. “Good day, sir!” You led the princess to his humble stall, stopping before the man who looked proud of his products.

“I do hope the apples were to you liking.” he said. “My trees had produced more apples today. I had thought of you when I had harvested, miss.”

“That is very kind, sir. Yes, the apples were to my liking. They were sweet and delicious.” You told him.

The merchant held out a shiny red apple to you. “Had I known you were arriving today, I would have saved the best for you, miss.”

“Then you would not have sold any apples at all, for they are all delicious,” you said with a smile. You took the apple from him and gave him a small bow of your head. “I thank you, kind sir. I hope you do not find it offending if I give this apple to the princess.”

It was only then when the man saw the Princess Chelina beside you. He was flustered, bowing with a flair at her.

“Your Royal Highness. Forgive me for not addressing you,” the man said.

You looked over to the princess, finding her looking at the man passively. There was an air of indifference to her, as how you often saw her whenever she addressed the staff of the palace or anyone not royal except you.

The man stood to his full height. “Might I offer you a basket of my finest apples, Your Royal Highness, as my apology?”

Princess Chelina only nodded.

You held out the apple for her to take. “They are the sweetest in the kingdom, Your Royal Highness. I find they cannot compare to the apples grown in Castile.”

“Such high praises, Miss Y/N,” she told you and took the fruit. “You know of my neighbor kingdom?”

“I had lived in Castile for quite some time. My father especially loved it there because of the sun and the people.” You pulled out your pouch and counted your coins.

“¿Entonces debes saber hablar castellano?” she asked you suddenly. (So you must know how to speak Castilan?)

“Muy bien, lo confieso. No habria podido hablar con los ciudadanos si solo hablar una lengua.” you replied as you looked up. “Aunque no hable bien Aragonés. No he tenido el placer de visitar Zaragoza.” (Very well, I confess. I would not have been able to speak to the citizens if I only spoke one language. Although I don’t speak Aragonese well. I have not had the pleasure of visiting Zaragoza.)

The princess only hummed at you. The merchant handed to you a basket of his apples with a proud look upon his face.

“Oh, and Miss!” He handed you another apple. “For you.”

You passed the basket to one of the guards and smiled as you took the apple from the merchant’s hands. “Thank you, sir.”

“You are most welcome, Miss.”

“Before I forget, had there been other nobles who had visited your humble stall? I have told my friends of your apples. I hoped I had convinced them enough to sample your products.” you told the man.

“There had been quite a few of them from the week last. Fear not, miss, for I gave them all the best my trees had had to offer.” He beamed proudly.

“You are most kind, sir.” You passed him coins for his basket.

He shook his head vehemently at the sight of the coins in your hands. “Oh. It is a gift for the princess.”

“I again do not want you to miss on a sale. Take it, sir, if not for yourself, then you may pass it on to someone who may be in need of it.”

The man seemed to consider your words before he took your payment. “You are gracious, miss. Thank you.”

You watched as he pocketed the coins you handed to him. The merchant bid you both a farewell and bowed before you ambled on.

“You are friends with the man?” the princess asked as you moved to another stall.

“An acquaintance. We had only met when the prince brought me with him to the square a few weeks past.” You replied.

“You speak with them quite liberally.”

“I am a commoner myself, Your Royal Highness. I am no different than they.”

“And yet you are friends with nobles?”

“It is a consequence of my father being an emissary to their countries.”

“I find it unusual that you be friends with them. In Zaragoza, we keep a strict distinction between classes.”

You nodded, knowing the same was done in Castille as well. “The nobles had initiated the friendship. Who was I to refuse such generous offer?”

The princess seemed to consider your rhetoric before nodding. “If you do not mind me asking, how come you are not yet married?”

You had anticipated such question from her, with you being six and twenty and still unmarried. At least, unmarried in their eyes. “There had been no offers,” you told her as you looked at her.

“No offers?” She raised a brow. “What of the Duke of Granville? He seems a prospect for you.”

You noted the way her tone rose when she mentioned Louis. There was an unusual curiosity about her voice, something that reminded you of the way Louis had talked about her many nights ago.

“His Grace has his heart set out for another,” you told her.

You noted the small smile in her face. You thought of the times Louis had spoken passionately about the way Princess Chelina’s face showed her true emotions. If what you saw on her face was the same as that in Louis’s, then it would be safe to assume that they harbor feelings for each other. Oh, how excited you were to tell your dearest friend!

“But he adores you.” she said gently, confusedly.

You smiled softly. “And I, him.”

“It shall be a social advantage for you to marry the duke.”

Not as big a social advantage as being married to the prince, you thought to yourself. “I am aware of that but I would not want to burden him with the likes of me.”

“You and he are quite alike.”

“It was how our friendship was born.” You smiled. “Perhaps it was why he had not returned my affections. We are too alike that he thinks me a sister.”

“Who does his heart long for, then? Perhaps he has shared with you.” The princess seemed very eager to know of the answer.

Pursing your lips, you considered telling the truth of Louis’s feelings and affections but decided against it. She was to marry Kit. She was to broker an alliance, a partnership, with her kingdom and his. Telling her would only jeopardize what everyone had worked so hard for.

“He has not told me,” you fibbed. “But I am quite sure it is not I.”

You walked on with her, approaching some of your acquaintances. You had introduced to them the princess and they all bowed and curtsied before her. Princess Chelina only responded in her aloof way, thinking them more subjects than friends. You found no fault in that; it was the Zaragozan way, after all.

“Tell me about Prince Kit,” she urged as you entered one of the shops.

Your hand stilled from taking a lovely gemstone brooch from its silk nestling. You swallowed thickly. “Me? I feel I am not the right person to answer your request.”

“I heard you had been with him to the square. I would hazard a guess and say you had spent time with him well before my arrival.”

You looked at the princess, searched her face for any sign of offense or resentment but found none. In her face, you only saw curiosity—the same curiosity she had when she asked of Louis and his heart.

Still, you refused to give any indication that you had known much more than she does.

“I do not know the prince well.” You said instead, choosing your words carefully. “I believe that whatever he has told you, he has told me the same.”

Princess Chelina picked the very brooch you were to take and held it against your dress. “And yet he looks at me differently than he does with you.”

“He looks at you with utmost respect, Your Royal Highness.”

“And you, with affection.”

You stilled. Even your lungs stopped in their function. You had been careful since that night, avoiding Kit whenever you were out of your room. When you heard his voice or his steps, you made sure you were away from him before he could even find you. You could not bring yourself to face him lest you see the similar heart break in his eyes.

“Your Royal Highness—”

“I may not know Prince Kit but I know of it when someone’s heart has been taken.” She put the brooch down and walked to another display. “And in his eyes, I can see he is taken with you.”

“I think you are mistaken—”

Princess Chelina turned to you, an amused smile on her lips. “I am not blind nor am I stupid, Miss Y/N. I had seen how he looked at you during the feast, or the way he danced with you.”

“I did not mean to imply that you are stupid—”

“Then you agree with my assessment? That he is taken with you?”

You caught a glimpse of the shopkeeper, who nodded in understanding. “Your Royal Highness, this is hardly the place for a conversation such as this.”

The shopkeeper bowed and headed to the back of the shop, leaving the two of you.

“I know you are aware that it is only a marriage of convenience for me and the prince. This kingdom needs our alliance. There is no affection between us but I must know if there is something between the two of you.”

Although the princess’s demeanor towards you was quite friendly, you were still wary of the fact that she and the Grand Duke are related. If you told her of any semblance of your feeling towards Kit, you knew they would find some use of it against you.

You clasped your hands before you and played with your fingers. “Your Royal Highness may ask a question that I wish to not answer,” you said, remembering the words your father had used once during his meetings. “I find that this is one of those moments where I will exercise that right.”

Princess Chelina raised a brow at you before nodding. “Very well. I shall have to pry the answer from the prince, then.” She turned from you to look over at the displays once more.

You blew a sigh, wiping your sweaty hands on your skirt. For the kingdom, Y/N. Think of the kingdom, you chanted to yourself.

You interacted with more of the merchants, asking of their wares and what made them special. It served educational for both you and the princess because you had not known such products existed in your kingdom. You were surprised to learn that the precious blue stone and gold metals that were sold in the square had been mined within the kingdom.

Apparently, the precious stones had been discovered fairly recently—nearly two years ago—and there had been interested parties who wanted the mines. There were talks of the futures of the mines but none of them fell through because the queen had passed and the king fell into a great depression. However, it had been sanctioned by the king that the jewels only be kept within the kingdom’s borders. Should anyone be caught bringing them out or overseas with intention of selling, they would be charged with theft. The punishment seemed quite hefty but it also was fitting, seeing as the stones only existed in the kingdom.

As her thanks for taking up much of the seller’s time, Princess Chelina bought bracelets for the both of you, yours a shade of blue like Kit’s eyes while hers was a deep red. You thanked the princess and wore your bracelet proudly on your wrist.

You had enjoyed your newfound friendship with the princess but you were still reserved whenever you replied to her questions about Kit. She had become less interested in the prince when your topic suddenly returned on to the Duke of Granville. You hoped that when you return from the trip, Louis would be there for you tell of what you had found out about the princess’s feelings.

You walked down the street that held all of the kingdom’s seamstresses’ workshop, hoping to show her the fashion of the kingdom. It had been quite a while since you had started on your trip when the princess said that she was feeling faint from the heat of the sun.

“It is time we return to the palace, Your Royal Highness,” you said as you fanned her.

“I shall return. I see you had been having an exceptional time with the people. I would so loathe to make you leave when you are having fun.” She pressed her fingers to her temple.

“I would not want for you to return alone—”

“The guards shall come with me. I will be safe in returning to the palace. I shall have them bring back a carriage for you,” she insisted.

“Your Royal Highness—”

“I shall tell my uncle that I insisted on my return alone, if that is what you are worried about.” She took a guard’s proffered arm. “Thank you for keeping me company, Miss Y/N. I apologize for it to be cut short.”

You would have insisted that you left with her. She had all but commanded that you stay in the square and enjoy the rest of the trip. You were helpless in stating your cause because the princess had already gone back to the direction of the carriage. You only watched as it rolled away back to the palace. None of the guards had remained with you. You were left alone to wait for the arrival of another carriage for you.

You decided to make the best of your trip by meeting more of your acquaintances. The flower merchant’s stall perfumed the rest of the street with her blooms. She gifted you once more with lavenders, remembering that the prince had done so when he was with you. You hid the pain that accompanied the memory. Almost everything connected with Kit. In your heart, you knew it would be difficult to forget him when you were to leave.

You were about to head to one of the seamstress’ shops when you noticed a horse’s saddle bearing the insignia of the kingdom waiting without its rider. You walked to it, wondering why there was only one horse instead of a carriage for you, when you saw who the rider was.

The Grand Duke emerged from one of the shops, looking around the square as he neared his horse.

You turned away abruptly, not wanting to be seen by the horrible man. Your heart lodged in your throat, hearing it thud in your ears at the thought of interacting with him so soon after threatening you. You kept yourself occupied, handling the products of the store nearest to you absentmindedly, peering from the side of your eye to see if he had left.

Instead, you saw him looking rather suspicious with the way he crammed his parchment bag inside his horse’s satchel. You slowly turned your head to his direction, keeping your eyes cast down but just enough to see what the noble was doing. His body was turned towards his horse, still placing his purchase inside his satchel.

You carefully raised your eyes, locking with his for a second. You brought a hand to cover the side of your face, pretending to tuck in your hair as you turned away. You felt sick with fear at the thought of his threats.

You did not know if the pounding you heard was from your heart or the Grand Duke’s horse galloping away. It took you a while before you could steady your heartbeat and when you had, you searched for the place for any traces of him.

When you did not see him, you craned your neck to find which shop he had emerged from. The Apothecary, you read.

Why would the Grand Duke be at the only apothecary when the Magistrate was at the opposite side of the square? What would he need to go here for if the royal physician was readily available to treat the palace guests for any ailments?

The small hairs on your nape rose on their ends when you realized what the place was for. Apothecaries dried herbs and plants and prepared them for any needs of the people. If the apothecary sold the very same preparation of plant parts you saw mixed in with the tea leaves, then it could be that this was the place where it was bought from . And if the Grand Duke was here… If the parchment bag he was holding contained any of those plants…

It would mean that he had a hand in putting them in the Queen’s blend of tea.

No, you tried denying to yourself but even you knew it was a possibility.

You kept your growing suspicion of the late queen’s death to yourself, writing your findings in your journal with your lemon juice ink. You knew there was something amiss when Kit said his mother loved her gardens. She would not have purposefully placed the poisonous plants in her tea blend because she was knowledgeable of them.

You cursed yourself for your curiosity, in wanting to know the answers to every question that plagued you. You had told yourself earlier the day that you were to not read up on more of the plants and herbs, that you were to stop your investigation. But it was no ordinary person’s death you were looking into. It was the Queen’s and you did not think it was accidental. You believed she was deliberately killed. You owed Kit and his father the truth.

Straightening your back and making sure the Grand Duke had left, you headed for the apothecary. A bell rang as you entered the threshold of the medical shop and behind the counter stood the chemist. He was a wizened old man but despite his advanced age, he was still agile in mixing whatever it was in his mortar.

“Good day, Miss. How may I be of assistance to you?” He had put down his pestle and had watched you with a friendly face.

“Good day, sir.”

You looked around his shop, finding bundles of herbs tied up for drying and bottles of different concoctions on the shelves. There was a jar of dried Digitalis purpurea leaves and petals. Your breath caught in your throat once more as you realized the preparation was the same.

“May I help you, Miss? Is there a particular potion or medication you need?”

Your eyes turned on the man again. As you did, your eyes passed his opened ledger. You knew that almost every shop kept a record of their sales. It would be no wonder for the chemist to keep one as well, especially since he sold medicine and poison. The Grand Duke’s name would be there if he had been a customer of the shop.

You had to see the ledger for what the Grand Duke had bought, instead of asking the man directly. The question was how to do it without arousing suspicion.

“Miss?”

“Forgive me,” you said, politely smiling at the chemist. “I seem to have forgotten what I was here for. Would you mind if I were to have a look around so I may remember why?”

“Of course, miss. Should you need any assistance, you may call my attention.”

“Thank you, sir.” You smiled politely and walked to the herbs you had seen.

Perhaps, if you asked the man to prepare you something that was not readily available, he would go to the back of the shop to gather his ingredients. That would have given you enough time to search for the Grand Duke’s name—

You stopped as you saw the glass jar that held a preparation of Aconitum napellus. Each book of Queen Amalie’s had said that it would be near impossible to mistake it for something else. Surely, the late queen would not have added those deadly petals and leaves with her tea. She likely had not even dried them at all. It would only take a skilled chemist to prepare them properly without feeling the numbing effects of the roots. With it mixed in, there was no doubt it was done deliberately by someone who had prior knowledge of the dangers of said plant and someone with malicious intent as well.

You heard the chemist put down his tools and looked to see him head towards the back of his shop. You rushed to the counter. You pulled the ledger to you, scanned the opened page for the name of the Grand Duke and finding it as the last entry. Only, he had not bought any preparations of Digitalis purpurea or Aconitum napellus.

Instead, he bought hemlock. Hemlock. The most dangerous of all plants.

What was the Grand Duke’s purpose to buy hemlock? you wondered. He was growing more and more suspicious to you.

You flipped through the ledger, scanning the pages for more entries with his name and opened to it when you found one. It was a record of his purchase of the service of the chemist. It was done a few weeks prior to the queen’s death.

Service. What kind of service did the Grand Duke require of the apothecary?

You lifted the pages back to the day’s date but not before finding another entry of his name and a purchase of dried Digitalis purpurea. It had been dated just a few months before your arrival to the palace.

Hemlock and Digitalis purpurea. Those did not seem to be any ordinary medication that the Grand Duke would need. Most especially hemlock since there had been no therapeutic use for it.

You had read that hemlock was used for putting down animals. You knew the Grand Duke had no pets that he would need hemlock for. You shivered as coldness settled on you. What other purpose was there for the noble to buy hemlock other than to use it to eradicate someone?

And to whom would he use the poison if not for the one that irked him the most? You. Especially now that you had talked back at him in front of the king.

Shuffling of feet came from the back of the shop. You pushed the ledger back in its original place when the man returned.

“Sir, is there an antidote to hemlock poisoning?” you asked, moving away from his worktable. You felt the ice in your veins from your harsh realization that the duke may have intentions to poison you for crossing him.

The man looked up at you. “How long has passed since they had ingested the poison?”

You rubbed your hands on your arms, staving off the internal chill. “I would not know, sir. Perhaps a few hours,” you lied.

“An antidote would not work, miss. Had you come in within the hour of ingestion, I would have given you an emetic of zinc for them to take. Or they may give them mustard and castor oil.”

You nodded. “Is that all they need as remedy?”

“You must also keep them warm, miss. I hope they had done that before they sent you for an antidote.”

“What happens if they did not keep the body warm?”

“Then we pray for them. There is nothing more we can do.”

You kept quiet, remembering the information the chemist had said. First, keep the body warm. Then administer an emetic of zinc or mustard and castor oil. And if those do not work, pray. You hoped against hope that you would not turn cold before you realize you had been poisoned with hemlock.

“Sir, may I buy the emetic?” you asked almost desperately. You would rather you prepare for your untimely demise. You very well knew you could not tell anyone of your suspicion of the Grand Duke trying to poison you. At least, not until you have gathered enough evidence against him. But even then, it would be your word against his. And judging from what had transpired earlier today at the Great Study, you knew they would much rather believe the noble than their accidental princess.

“Of course, miss.”

“If I may ask another question, good sir,” you said when the man had started mixing the antidote for you. “How do I counteract the effects of Digitalis purpurea?”

The man looked up at you, eyebrow raised at your question. “Dear me, Miss. How many poisoned people have you been around?”

You gave a sad smile at his incredulity. “Too many, I’m afraid.”

He harrumphed and said, “Nightshade should counteract the action of foxglove.”

“Is that not poisonous as well?”

“Yes. Foxglove—that is, Digitalis purpurea—slows the beat of the heart. Nightshade—Atropa belladonna—increases it. Given the right dosage of nightshade, it shall bring the heart back to its normal rhythm. Too much of it may kill as well.”

You nodded. “May I ask for that as well?”

“As you wish, miss.” He smiled gently at you. “I would not want to presume, but should you ask, I fear there is no remedy for monkshood, for Aconitum napellus.”

You turned to him, a brow raised. “I was—”

“They are common plants, miss. Foxglove and nightshade are easily mistaken for another crop or flower, although not monkshood. I find that to be quite easy to differentiate from the other two but those three are all poisons still. If you are knowledgeable of their appearance, it would do well for you to remove them now. They kill rather quick and often you would not have time to give them the antidote.”

You nodded, thinking that it was another thing for you to do as you brought this upon yourself for your inquisitiveness. “Of course, sir. Thank you for your advice.”

You waited as the chemist prepared the antidotes for you. As you did, you recounted the information you had: the Grand Duke spoke German, he had gifted the queen books to read and flowers to plant, his name had been recorded in the apothecary’s ledger, and he had purchased foxglove and hemlock and whatever service the apothecary offered. You dared not be suspicious but all of the coincidences could not be accidental. The chance of them all being connected was too high to be ignored.

“Here you are, miss. Your emetic and a vial of nightshade.” The chemist said as he passed the vials to you.

“Forgive me for asking questions, sir, but there is one more I wish to know.” You gave your payment for his products as you took the vials from him, holding them close to you.

“Of course, miss. What shall it be?”

“What services do you offer, Sir? Do you only prepare antidotes?”

“I also prepare plants and herbs to my customer’s preference, miss. You could say I am but a physician’s cook.”

“I see. If I were to bring a bundle of lavenders that I wish for you to prepare, would you do that, sir?”

The man nodded. “I would offer my wares first and if they were not to your liking, I would do your herbs as how you wish them done. I could dry them to your preference.”

You nodded and smiled politely despite feeling incredibly frightened at the new things you have learned. “Thank you, Sir. I am truly grateful for your help.”

He bowed to you with a smile. “You are welcome, miss. If I dare say so, be wary of the people around you. It is rather suspicious that you be surrounded by people being poisoned.”

You nodded. “I shall, sir. Good day.”

You left the apothecary. Your hands shook from how tight you gripped the vials. You had learned plenty in so little a time that everything you knew became muddled in your head. You took calming breaths, counting to ten until your mind had cleared.

Almost all of the clues you had gathered connected back to the Grand Duke. Surely, he would not do it himself. He seemed to be the man who would not dirty his hands but would rather have someone else do it for him. Yes, that seemed most plausible.

What if the Grand Duke had given the prepared poison to a maid and had told them it was from the queen? you wondered. With the housekeeper not knowledgeable of the tea leaves, you suspected the maids were not as well. They would have been easily swayed by the noble since he held power over the household as the king’s adviser.

You recalled the housekeeper saying she had been meaning to throw the specific blend of tea. She was not able to because a former maid had changed the containers without labelling them. Why would a maid do such a thing, especially since the teas had been a blend and not just their own leaves?

Perhaps because she was employed by the Grand Duke to do that.

You shivered despite the heat of the afternoon sun. The nobleman was more than suspicious. He was beginning to be the prime suspect. With the dangerous herbs, he had means of killing her. And if he had a maid do his bidding, then he had the chance to do so. But why?

Why would the Grand Duke kill the Queen Amalie?

You took another deep breath, clearing your head as you did so. In the square, you were safe. The Grand Duke had left. You had your antidotes close to you. It was best to take the apothecary’s advice: that you were not to take anything that would be offered by the nobleman and his niece.

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