The Burden of Freedom

Chapter 3

Notices for the upcoming competition are posted all around the surrounding kingdoms, calling all potential suitors to come to Livaria for one of the largest events in our history. The last thing that had been advertised like this was the funeral for my mother, which stirred the lands with the unrest that it had brought to us.

The notices for the competition are simply stated, listing the rules for entering as well as a hand drawn picture of me, as if that would inspire the young men to come try and claim my hand.

"Calling all Noblemen, Gentlemen, and Royalty." I read the title of the notice with disdain.

Despite my bitterness, however, the notice seems to work, and young men from all over the world pour into the castle walls. It makes me sick to see each of them ride up, flashing their bright smiles and their papers of identification, heads held high.

One thing I know for sure is that I will never be happy marrying someone who is this eager to claim the hand of a person without knowing them. Though the more I think about it, the less I think this is about me.

The true prize in this competition is a chance to sit on the Livarian throne, a chance to claim a kingdom. All of these men will be shallow, pompous, and greedy, their only desire to have even more power than they already possess.

I begin to hide in my room more often than not, angry that I have to stoop so low as to confine myself to my own quarters. However, this is the only place in the entire castle that I am guaranteed not to run into one of my 'wonderful potential suitors'.

So, I keep myself busy, sending Rose to the library to fetch me books to read and staring out of my window for endless hours.

I avoid them as long as I can until the day arrives. The opening feast.

Feasts have always been exciting to me. When I was younger, I remember watching the court jesters play little card tricks and perform skits, their pointy hats jingling with bells and their faces always plastered with a fabricated smile.

Here, a feast always symbolizes something good, whether it be a positive change coming or the end of difficult times. My mother always had the halls decorated with beautiful flowers and expensive ribbons, a tradition that still stands today. The music and dancing was always enjoyable and it was one of the few times I can ever remember seeing my parents so happy and carefree.

This feast is different. It symbolizes something more sinister and more frightening to me. It is the end of my childhood and the beginning of my life on the throne.

I am not ready.

My heart is dark as I stand outside the Great Hall, waiting to be announced. The huge double doors tower above me, wood carved in intricate patterns. Animals dance around the border, wood vines wrapping around the handles as if they were really growing there. In the center, a dragon rests on its haunches, wings outspread and mouth open with fire.

A desire to be anywhere but here fills my heart, but I know if I run now, it will be worse for me later. So when the doors are pushed open for me, I step inside, my head held high.

One of the largest rooms in the castle, second only to the Throne Room, the Great Hall is always decorated for the occasion. Today, fine purple silk curtains are pulled back from the windows, allowing the waning sunlight to illuminate the hall. Vases of flowers stand on each of the tables, white and red petals blending together like blood mixing with the snow.

The room, already full of people, erupts in cheers. Chairs scrape against stone as everyone stands up. I take a step back, feeling as if the force of the shouting has physically pushed me.