Surviving The Crown

Prologue

                                                     It all started when I was 10 years old.

Dusk to dawn, my days were filled with dress fittings, tea talks, and battle strategies with my father, which always was kept secret from the queen. My lessons filled up most of my days. Half the time, I pretended to listen to my many tutors, but the only one I truly listened to was my riding instructor. My mother never bore a son, so the crown will fall to me and my future husband. Therefore, as a little girl, I never had a moment to move about the castle freely. Every moment of every day was planned out for me without a single thought as to what I'd want. I would sit for hours during my "free time" in the lady's tearoom with my mother. It was truly just to listen to gossip, which my mother said could heal a country. I never understood it, but she said having a strong inner circle allowed her to learn the complaints or fears before they ever reached the king, my father's ear.

Maybe she thought it could help with discovering traitors, but I was way more interested in the sweets that were stacked high on the silver trays. When I wasn't in the tearoom or learning how to run a country, I was taking riding lessons or practicing sword fighting with my trainer, Lewis. My father thought even the princess should know how to wield a sword. Although, that all changed one day when the horns blew in a dreary tone. It's as if every person in the castle froze, and the tension made even the bugs flee.

My bare feet jumped off the stand where I was currently being fit for a new ball gown. The older woman yelled after me as my small feet carried me to the front metal gates. Cold pricked at my toes, but the air seemed to be heavy, and I was almost afraid to make a noise with my own breath. My father stood with his hands behind his back, his body stiff, as if death had come knocking. I knew the situation was serious when he did this because this was simply to hide his shaking hands. You see, when my father was extremely nervous or scared, his hands shook something awful. He never wished for the kingdom to see him weak, so he hid it with a strong-appearing power stance. Now, it is known across the land as the King's war pose.

"Charlotte Elizabeth Mae, where are your shoes?" My mother yelled in horror at my heelless feet. I never understood why she hated bare feet so badly. I, on the other hand, enjoyed feeling the soft carpet and cold tile under my delicate skin. Have you ever tried running down tile stairs in heels, a corset, and a hoop skirt? Well, it is quite hard, let me tell you.

"Mother, what is happening?" I asked as I heard horse hooves clanking on the stoned walkway. My father moved out to greet the men who were cut and beaten. A wagon was pulled behind them, but my mother stopped me when I tried to move closer.

"One of the villages was attacked, Charlotte. This is no matter for a princess-" She tried to pull me away but was stopped when my father called out.

"Daughter, come." My father reached out his hand, and my nervous feet took me out into the courtyard. My mother protested as always, but my father seemed to block her out. Some of the head guards were dragging dead bodies to be burned. I swallowed hard as my father led me

to the back of a wagon. There was a young boy who seemed a little older than me.
He was holding a piece of cloth on a wounded foal. He was dirty but did not seem too badly harmed.