Rose of Yorkshire

chapter five.

chapter five: The Revolt

Third Person Perspective

In the cobbled streets of Cambridge, whispers of discontent spread like wildfire. The people, burdened by destitution, blamed Prince Elijah for their woes. Little did they know, the prince remained oblivious to their plight, shielded by a veil of ignorance woven by his royal advisors. As the anger reached its pinnacle, a revolt brewed in the shadows.

Fuelled by frustration and resentment, the oppressed masses marched towards the towering gates of the royal castle, their shouts echoing through the night. "Down with Prince Elijah!" they cried, their voices hoarse with desperation, "he's abandoned us to starve while he feasts in his castle!"

Within the grandiose confines of the castle, Prince Elijah and Princess Alexandra had remained nonchalant with each other. Oblivious to the turmoil outside, their silence mingled with the soft melodies of the evening. But this soundless gorge was soon shattered as the reverberations of pounding fists echoed through the corridors, reaching the sanctity of their suite.

Startled, they exchanged worried glances, their indifference eclipsed by the spectre of unrest. "What's happening?" Princess Alexandra asked, her voice trembling with unease. It was the first time in many nights since she had graced Prince Elijah with her voice, which was hoarse from lack of speech.

"I'm not sure," Prince Elijah replied, his brow furrowed in concern, "but it sounds like something serious." He glanced at his wife, it had been some time since he looked at her, since he had really looked at her. Flowing freely, her chestnut hair lay against her shoulders in soft waves and her full lips trembled slightly from the thunderous roars of the revolt. She was dressed in a periwinkle blue gown, the lace trim of her bodice fit snugly against her waist, itching to be held by him, her nose was soft and round and on adorned on her finger was a beautiful pear-shaped diamond ring, a pearl on the left it, signifying each other's birth month. He took in her beauty, she was ethereal, she emitted a warm glow of gold, her mere presence raised the hairs on his body - he cursed himself for having such a reaction to his wretched rose.

As the clamour grew louder, he snapped out of his trance. The bridegroom approached the balcony, peering down at the throngs of angry faces below. Torches flickered in the darkness, casting eerie shadows on the determined faces of the revolt's leaders.

"We demand justice!" a voice boomed from the crowd, its resonance sending a chill down Prince Elijah's spine, "we demand that Prince Elijah face the consequences of his neglect!"

Caught off guard by the intensity of the uprising, Prince Elijah realized the gravity of the situation. His heart heavy with guilt, he knew he had to confront the truth of his unwitting complicity in the suffering of his people. But as the angry mob banged on the castle doors, their demands reverberating through the stone walls, he couldn't help but feel a pang of fear for the safety of his wife, though their time together was nothing short of hellish, he could not deny the feelings of care he had for her. He was bound to care for her, he had to. It was his duty to care and look after her, for she was no longer under the protection of her father, but rather him.

As the clangour of the crowd intensified outside, the castle guards struggled to hold them back, their efforts strained against the relentless tide of anger. Prince Elijah, his resolve steeling with each passing moment, turned away from the balcony, his demeanour shifting to one of grim determination.

With measured steps, he crossed the room to where his attire lay strewn across a velvet chaise. The flickering candlelight danced across the finely crafted armour, casting an ethereal glow upon the polished steel. Embellished with intricate engravings and patterns befitting his royal stature, the armour exuded an air of regal elegance.