𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 ━━━━━ 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒕

• I

Princess Dahlia sat in the castle library. Her eyes were glued to the pages of her study books, but her mind was somewhere else. She loved learning and spending her days training to become a future Queen. Today, however, she had feeling in her gut that she can't shake. Something was going to happen soon and it made her feel sick.

The door to the library opened and Dahlia lifted her head in hopes to see Lady Halloway; the woman who has been training her to be a lady since she was five. Instead, her father stood there with many guards following him. His alluring aura that seeped power was always able to stop a room. He was a king, the man bled power. From his scruffy beard and rosy cheeks to his large and built body that was shrouded in gold and the finest of silks, Dahlia could see nothing but her father. A man whom she was never close to.

"Dahlia" his voice boomed, "I have some news." Dahlia's heart rate picked up. Her gut feeling could be correct and she did not want that. He dismissed the guards and walked towards her, sitting on one of the many large wooden chairs that were placed around one of the many tables.

"What is it, father?" He leaned forward and glared at her, his breath smelling of alcohol. Dahlia felt her heart stop. She called him father. He hated that.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, please forgive me." He huffed in annoyance and muttered a few words under his breath. Leaning back, he started to talk.

"Don't make that mistake again," his mannerisms changed, "You will be leaving today."

"Your Grace, I'm a little confused." Dahlia knew her father never really liked her much, but to get rid of his only heir is ridiculous.

"The rebellion that is being led against me is growing. Their leader, this Timothée... Chal-something has managed to gather what we believe to be a rather large army. I'm sending you to the kingdom next to us to get married to Prince Charlie. Once the union is over, our army will merge with theirs and we will crush those rats." By the end of her father's rant, he grew red with rage.

Marriage. Dahlia was being sent away to marry a man whom she's only seen a few times at lavish events.

"You leave after lunch and will arrive there later in the night." Without so much as a goodbye, her father left her to sit in the barren library, consumed by dread.

_______________

The carriage that Dahlia was sitting in rocked back and forth as it trailed along the dirt road. After eating lunch by herself, like most days, Dahlia was led to her room where the maids started to pack her favourite dresses. They had to be her finest, something to impress her betrothed.

The carriage came to a stop and she heard multiple shouting from outside. The needle Dahlia was using to embroider a new dress slipped and made a large gash on her palm. She winced and used her other hand to cover it. She reached out to open the door and ask for help but it opened before she could. A man with dark blonde hair and brown eyes stood before her.

"Good evening, my lady." He smirked.

"Who are you?" The man was not wearing the palace guard armour. He just had leather and very thick fabrics to protect himself from the upcoming winter.

"I'm here to take you." Before Dahlia could protest, he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the carriage. She let out a yelp in pain because of his iron grip on her cut hand. The bottom of her light blue dress became smudged with mud. Dahlia looked around and saw all the guards sent to protect her dead on the ground. The once shiny metal now covered in dirt and mud. Tears formed in her eyes. She knew most of the dead men. She saw them with their helms off and seen the once smiling faces.

Many men clad in leather, clutching bows and swords, stood around to make sure they were all dead. Dahlia looked up and saw someone walking towards her and the blonde stranger. He appeared to have a slim figure, but Dahlia doubted that he would be weak. A sword was strapped to his side. One of his hands rested on the hilt, the other swayed at his side. No one moved but him. He had long dark hair that curled and twisted in every direction yet it still managed to look neat. His skin was pale and was caked in sweat and what looked to be blood. It was, most likely, not his but one or maybe more of the royal guards. Dhalia guessed that he was maybe a year or two older than her.

"Who is this?" His voice was rather deep. His green eyes scanned Dahlia, searching for an answer.

"Princess Dahlia Myrila, daughter to King Edward IV Myrila, heir to the throne." The voice sounded familiar to Dahlia. She turned to see one of her knights still alive. He stood there bloody and beaten with his sword drawn. It was Henry Gardwer. He was her childhood friend. They grew apart when he was sent away to train, but he came back and swore his sword to protect her. "I'd back away from the lady if I were you."

"Henry-" Dahlia started to speak up but was abruptly cut off.

"You're surrounded, outnumbered, and beaten beyond belief. I'd back away instead." The dark-haired man replied.

"Henry put down your sword." Dahlia pleaded. The blonde's grip on her hand increased and he tugged her back, moving so her hands were held behind her back.

"I swore my sword and my life to you." Henry briefly looked at her, his eyes going soft.

"And I command you to stand down, Henry," he still refused to not fight, "I swear on Irene that if you don't-" Henry dropped his sword. Two other men came from behind and pushed him on his knees, tying a rope around his arms. The dark-haired man turned to her.

"I'm sorry, my lady. If I knew who you were I would've introduced myself faster," his tone almost mocked her, "I'm Timothee Chalamet and you're being taken prisoner."