The Princess's Servant

0. The Prologue

The princess had met the emperor's son but once. She remembered the procession of silver-helmeted guards and great white steeds that the castle gates swallowed by the dozens. How her mother had rushed to collect her and swapped out her everyday garments for her finest silk dress. How her parents' had quietly conversed in the candle-lit hall just beyond the courtroom. She remembered her mother's wavering voice. Seeing her father's scrunched brow.

When the oaken hall doors parted, the princess half-expected to see a massive bear or a pack of wolves smack center in the court. But instead of furry paws, she saw the metal-booted feet of half a hundred soldiers. Among the gleam, the black sandaled feet of one man stood out atop the burgundy carpet.

The princess stared up at the man and his square features, but he did not turn nor glance nor flinch as she and her family entered the room. His eyes, his body, and his feet all orientated towards the queen's throne.

"Her Royal Majesty Queen Arabell, his Royal Majesty King Duncan, and her Royal Highness Princess Sybil!" Their court announcer bowed his willowy frame and dipped his hand in reverence, but he was as invisible as furniture to the man. She saw a scuttle behind the sandaled man. A much smaller pair of fine leather shoes. A tuft of golden curly hair stuck out from behind the man's knee.

"State your name before Her Majesty!"

The princess emerged from her intense focus to find that her mother had already taken her seat. Sybil had not registered her mother leaving her side — a frightening thought — nor had she seen her make her long ascent up the stairs to the throne. But she sat there now, with her steady gaze, as firm as stone. The princess followed her mother's line of sight to that man, who still had not moved an inch. She watched the crest of his breast to see if he breathed. Movement.

There was a silence, longer than five-year-old Sybil knew was polite. As a tension began to burrow in her chest, a smile came over the man's face, and he spoke. "Queen Arabell," he said. "Do you presume to not know me?"

Another flash of hair! The princess's eyes widened at a flicker of pale cheek and chin. A gentle slope that outlined the face of a child her age, she was certain. She saw an eye and the eye stared back. One eye became two, and the two came closer, and soon she stood face-to-face with a little boy. He wore a cream tunic tipped with red, and a band of gold atop his head. The princess took a step back as he drew their distance close.

"Who are you?" The boy asked her. "Are you the princess? Because I'm the prince. Do you like to spin tops? I have some if you want to play."

The princess furrowed her brow. This wasn't the appropriate time for tops.

Behind the child, a tall helmeted guard approached. With an armored glove, he grabbed the prince by the back of his shirt and lifted him up. The princess wasn't sure, but she thought she might have seen that sandaled man's lip twitch as the boy was carried away.

"It was nice meeting you," he told her, as he was carried off like a kitten. "I can't wait to live here, in the palace with you! That'll be fun. We can play games, and have sleepovers, and--"

"Quiet, princeling," said the guard, and the child's cheeks flushed.

"Yes, general..." the child begrudged. And he fell as silent as the rest of them.

The guard plopped the child down next to his father once more and his feet stayed planted on the ground. He looked over at the princess again and again throughout their parents' conversation, and the princess didn't like it. What was this talk of living in her house? She wondered. It was her house. He couldn't live there. She wouldn't allow it.

The meeting droned on for what felt like a year. The princess heard the man talk about his big kingdom and about the special wine the her kingdom made, but she didn't understand any of it. All her attention was devoted to the boy, who had resorted to tracing patterns into the carpet with his finger to pass the time. The princess wished she could do that too, but with her father behind her — and with her mother on the throne — there was no way she wouldn't hear an earful about it later. So she stood as still as she could, and showed that ill-behaved child how it was done.

Court ended abruptly. Everyone from the room was dismissed by the queen, except for that man and his boy. The princess was angry that that kid got to stay while she had to leave. She gripped her skirt, turned her nose, and walked off as she had seen her mother done once or twice in her time. While she was an ounce sad to miss the action of the court, the greater part of her was glad to be done with that dullness.

She asked her father a question or two on the way out, and learned that the man was a great king who had heard of their kingdom's amazing wine and who had wanted to try some. The princess was confused, because that wasn't what it seemed like the conversation had been about. But she nodded her head and accepted her all-knowing father's truth, as the princess knew he had scarcely been wrong before.

It was evening when the strangers left. The princess heard voices out her window, and she ran to listen closer. Below her windowsill was one of the palace gates, and she watched as the cobblestone arches spat out the so-called great king and the golden-haired prince. He ran around his father with his arms like wings and dove and swerved in patterns like a sparrow.
"Was that her, Dad? Was that the princess you were talking about? Was it?"

Again, the father did not move his line sight, nor flinch, nor react in any way. With eyelids half shut and in a biting tone, he said, "Those guards should keep you on a leash."

A/N: Thanks so much for reading the first chapter!! If you enjoyed it, leave a vote and read on! :)