The King's Bride

The Time Has Come

The sound of horses thundered around them and she held her head high as watched him approach. Her heart was racing, she wasn’t ready to leave yet and for a brief moment she began to panic. Her father reached out and put her hand in her shoulder protectively. She held her head up high, catching his eyes and holding his gaze. She would not let him see her falter.

    Her father fell to one knee and urged her to show respect to her king, but she refused. The King’s guard began to make a fuss but he held up his hand. “Why did you not bow before your king?” His voice filled with a genuine curiosity.

“Soon you will not be my king, but my husband, my partner. Therefore I will be held to the standards as Queen and will not be required to bow to you” She raised her head another notch higher, prepared for the worst.

He slowly nodded and offered his hand to her. “Come than my Queen, let us go.” She took his hand and he helped her into the saddle behind him. She positioned herself sideways so not to ruin her dress and waved sadly to her father one last time. He nodded to her father and off they went.
“Don’t worry, you’ll see him again” His voice a bit distant, like his mind was elsewhere. She nodded and whispered her thanks to him. They rode the rest of the way in silence, both pondering what their lives will entitle once they reach their destinations.

They arrived at the castle before sunset, but only barely. She took in the sky, sunsets always leave her breathless. The King turns and glances at her briefly. Such beauty, such genuine curiosity, childlike innocence. She was utterly perfect to him, but she didn’t trust him. She didn’t want to be here. He’d have to change her mind somehow. Just how, how could he make her see who he really was?

Once they arrived she was taken to her room to ready herself for dinner. Suddenly her room filled with women, One trying to do her hair, another trying to pick her a dress. She froze and the room began to spin, she screamed starling the women in the room. “Please get out” She whimpered, “Please”

They stared at her and nodded and walked out. She picked up her brush and finished her hair. Her hands shaking as she fumbled into the green dress laid out for her, green like summer’s grass. She finished putting on her jewelry and slid on her shoes that had also been left out for her. She was thankful that the women had set everything out and made a note to thank them and apologize for her behavior later.

“M’lady?” A timid servant came to her door. “A-are you ready for dinner? I-I was told to show you to the dining hall” She avoided eye contact and something about the servant stirred a feeling of empathy and pity in her.

“What’s your name child?” She was roughly 10 looking in age, her dress dingy and worn and her feet bare.

“E-Excuse me m’lady?” She was taken aback and looked up at her for the first time.

“What is your name little girl?” She knelt down to her level and smiled. “It’s okay, I don’t bite. My name’s Abbie.”

The young girl smiled and nodded “My name is Sophia” She fidgeted with her hands and looked down again. “Are you ready m’lady?” Remembering her duty, suddenly the smile fading.

“Yes I suppose I am. As ready as I can be that is. What should I expect Sophia? I’m quite inexperienced in this field if you are not unaware.” She smiled down at the girl briefly.

The girl’s face turned red at the mention of her name. “Well miss you’re not the average dinner guest. You see if anyone else talked to the king as you have they’d have been killed. He seems to favor your spark m’lady. I assume in this case just being yourself will suffice.” She began to fidget with her hands again, which she realized was one of the girl’s nervous habits.
She lead them down long corridors with brightly painted pictures in gold frames. Long, beautifully woven tapestries depicting family members or war heros. One particular tapestry made her stop and stare. A large one depicting the King as a child and a strong woman standing beside him, radiating confidence. She reached a hand out and gently touched it.

“That was the King’s mother. Her name was Maria. She died when he was just a boy no older than 10. Than at 15 his father died making him a King long before he was truly ready. But he handles it well for a king of 18.”