The rejected crown

Unveiling truth

~giovanna

One week later...
The princess was locked in her chambers for the whole week
Then it was the day of her trial.

The trial took place in the grand hall, where the crowd gathered to watch Princess Giovanna face her charges. It was a spectacle, just as her uncle Richard intended. He sat on a high dais, looking down with a smug expression, while the courtiers and commoners crowded in, murmuring with anticipation.

Giovanna stood chained before them, her head held high. The accusations had already been read out: treason, aiding witches, and undermining the kingdom's laws. But what stung most was the whispered charge that echoed through the hall—the insinuation that Giovanna's ambition as a woman, as the heir to the throne, had made her dangerous. She could see it in the eyes of the nobles around her, judging her not just for her actions but for daring to hold power.

Richard began the proceedings with his usual fervor. "The princess stands accused of conspiring with dark forces," he declared. "She has proven herself to be a traitor, willing to sacrifice her own people in pursuit of her misguided sympathies. Today, the people shall decide if she is fit to rule."

Giovanna stepped forward, her voice strong and clear. "Let's not pretend, Uncle, that this is about justice. I stand here not because I defied any law, but because I am a woman who dares to lead. I am on trial because I am the heir and because you cannot accept that."

The crowd shifted uncomfortably, the accusation striking a nerve. She looked into their eyes, challenging them. "If I were a man, would I be here today? Would you accuse me of weakness for protecting the innocent? Would you label me a traitor simply because I refused to spill blood?"

Richard sneered, leaning forward. "Do you hear her, people? She twists the truth, hiding behind her status, turning this trial into a grievance about her gender. She'd have you believe she's a victim rather than answer for her crimes."

Giovanna's eyes blazed with fury. "You want the truth, Uncle? Then tell them how you sowed fear in their hearts, how you drove them to kill an innocent woman just to strengthen your own hold on power!"

The hall fell into a stunned silence. Some of the crowd looked away, remembering the horror of the burning, the screams that still echoed in their minds. But Richard smirked, undeterred.

"I believe," he said with mock solemnity, "that a certain witness might shed light on the true nature of our princess."

As William was wheeled into the hall, the sight of him—a fragile seven-year-old boy with vacant eyes—drew gasps and whispers from the crowd. Giovanna's heart twisted at the sight. Her little cousin, once full of life and laughter, now seemed almost hollow, his face a pale shadow of the boy she remembered.

Giovanna felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. She'd thought William wouldn't remember, that he'd been too young, his mind blurred by the head injury Ser Edweyn had inflicted. But now he was here, his gaze drifting toward her with a mixture of fear and confusion, and she knew she had underestimated both Richard's ruthlessness and her own betrayal.

Richard smiled, almost fatherly, as he approached William. "My dear boy," he said gently, his voice warm enough to lull the crowd into sympathy. "Can you tell us what happened that night? Do you remember anything unusual?"

William hesitated, his small hands fidgeting in his lap. His eyes darted to Giovanna, who gave him a pleading look—she couldn't stop herself. She loved him like a little brother, despite everything. But he looked away, brow furrowing as he tried to piece together fragments of memory.

"I... I saw her," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "She was... with someone. A man. They were... they were close."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Giovanna could see the horror in their eyes, the judgment and disbelief. They were seeing her now not as a princess or a protector, but as something tainted, something wrong.

"Who was this man, William?" Richard prodded, feigning gentle concern. "Do you remember?"

William looked down, his voice small. "I... I don't know. But... but he hurt me. When I saw them... he hit me."

Tears pricked at Giovanna's eyes. She could almost feel Ser Edweyn's heavy hand coming down on the boy, the sound of the impact haunting her. It was the only way to silence him. She'd told herself it was necessary, that her reputation, her future, depended on it—but standing here now, watching her innocent cousin bear the weight of her choices, it felt like a hollow excuse.

Richard took advantage of the crowd's shock, his voice dripping with venomous righteousness. "This, people of the kingdom, is the woman who claims to stand for justice. A woman who would wound her own family to protect her shameful secrets! This is the woman you wish to see on the throne?"

The crowd was silent, their faces twisting from doubt to disgust. She could feel their judgment closing in on her, stripping her of her title, her pride, everything she'd worked for. She glanced at William, his face filled with confusion, and felt her heart break anew.

Gathering her strength, Giovanna raised her voice, addressing the crowd. "Yes, I made mistakes. I allowed myself to be weak, to be led by foolish desires. And I know the price for that weakness is greater than anything you could demand of me." Her voice trembled, yet she forced herself to go on. "But do not mistake my actions that night for the actions of a monster. I sought love—yes, even forbidden love—and I acted to protect it. But I would never allow harm to come to my kingdom."

Richard sneered. "You would harm a child. Your own blood. And yet you claim to care for the people?"

Giovanna's gaze locked onto William, her voice softer now. "I am sorry, William. I am sorry for the pain I caused you, for being careless and selfish. But I love you, just as I love this kingdom, and I would never betray either out of malice or cruelty."

The crowd murmured, some with lingering sympathy, others with judgment. But Richard wasn't finished. He stepped closer, speaking directly to her. "You can't hide behind your remorse. The truth is, you see yourself as above the law. Above decency. You put your own desires above the welfare of this kingdom. That is what the people see now, Giovanna—a selfish woman unworthy of power."

Giovanna's eyes blazed. "Yes, I am a woman. And I am not perfect. But do not think for a moment that this trial is about anything other than your fear of my strength. You have used my mistakes, my humanity, to turn these people against me, because you know I will not rule as you would—with cruelty and fear."

A tense silence fell over the hall, as her words echoed. She could see the uncertainty returning to some faces, the doubts Richard had so carefully planted now warring with the truth in her voice.

But Richard was ruthless. "You may cling to that excuse," he spat, "but the people are not fools. Tomorrow, they will decide your fate. And I assure you, they will not forgive you so easily." He turned to the guards. "Take her away, and see to it that she reflects on her sins. This kingdom has no room for leaders who abuse their power so shamelessly."

As the guards seized her arms, Giovanna caught William's gaze one last time. She saw the glimmer of pain, of innocence torn away by her choices. She would carry that guilt, but she would also carry the resolve to change—to do whatever it took to protect her people from the darkness her uncle wielded so mercilessly.

As they led her away, her final thought was of the promise she had made to the kingdom, to herself: that no matter the price, she would bring justice.

Once Giovanna was locked in her chambers, the heavy door thudding shut behind her felt like a final verdict. She paced the room, the familiar surroundings now stifling. Where was Ser Edweyn? He had been her protector, her confidant, and the last time she had seen him, he had been watching jane's mother execution with a cold but sad expression.

Doubt gnawed at her. Had he abandoned her in her darkest hour? Or was he ensnared in Richard's machinations? The memory of William's frightened face haunted her—had Edweyn truly harmed him?

Sinking onto her bed, she stared out the window at the sprawling gardens, searching for a flicker of hope. Surely, Edweyn would not turn against her. She had to believe he was out there, still loyal.