WAR | Timothée Chalamet

7 | Betrayal

Y/N

_

"Clear the room," Timothée said, "I wish to speak to her alone."

As the subjects surrounding me made their way to the door, I felt like I couldn't breathe. Amidst all the mutterings and comments, the only thing I could focus on was the boy towering over me; his extravagant garment covering his body and the throne he sat on.

A knight, he told me. I know now that he's a liar.

Once everyone had filtered out, the giant oak doors slammed shut with a deafening BAM! It was just me, the guards, and a backstabbing prince.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I scoffed, earning a few gasps from the scatter of security around us.

Do not address the prince unless he addresses you, is what Ella told me. I didn't care for those rules, because they belonged to the people of Valor. I was from Lourdes.

"Y/N," the boy said, standing up from his throne, "I'm sorry you had to be brought here like this."

"You mean kidnapped?"

"It was the only way I could bring you here without alerting the Frey."

"How about this?" I frowned, crossing my arms, "what if you didn't bother bringing me here at all?"

He sighed, taking a step down the marble stairs in front of him and approaching me. In an unconscious flutter of confusion, I took a step back, earning a wilted look in his eyes.

"I told you I would come back for you," he explained, "but I knew it wouldn't be possible. The only choice I had was to bring you here."

"You lied to me, Timothée," I said, "you told me you wanted to end the war."

"And I still do-"

"Then why did you bring me here? Once my mother realizes I'm gone, she'll alert the Frey. Instead of ending the war, you'll just create another."

"That's not why you're here."

"I don't know who you are," I spat out, shaking my head, "you're not the Timothée I knew months ago. You said you had no family!"

"I knew you'd shut me out if you heard I had royal blood," he said, "but I really did want this war to end."

"Who's your family?"

"I promise you, Y/N, I wanted this war-"

"Who's your family?"

I was boiling over with hatred at this point. I had lived my life in the shadows of the two kingdoms, and my city suffered for it. I helped Timothée when he was hurt, and now I realize he was lying to my face; he was just like the rest of the kings.

"Chalamet," he said softly, "Timothée Chalamet."

I had been so consumed by my feelings, I hadn't realized he was now standing in front of me. He had been closer to me before, yet now he seemed like a stranger. Someone who betrayed my trust. He lifted his arm, as if to take my hand, but I smacked it away in defiance.

Wrong thing to do. A swarm of guards saw what had happened, and surrounded me with their spears.

"Do not hit the prince," one of them said, "it's against the law."

"But he is not my prince," I growled, "and he never will be."

I saw something fade in Timothée's eyes, and he turned his back on me in disappointment. Approaching his throne, he waved his hand and sat down.

"You leave me no choice," he said, "take her to her room."

"I'm going home!" I yelled back, fighting against the grip of the soldiers around me, "you have no right to keep me here!"

The boy ignored my cries, an emotionless expression hardening over his face. He watched blankly as I was dragged towards the doors behind me.

"Lock the door," he commanded, "she is not to leave."

"Timothée, you can't do this!"

This wasn't him, this couldn't be him. He was not the same boy who confessed his love for me those many months ago in Lourdes. He was now a traitor to my trust, and the thing I despised most.

"You are in Valor now," he said, as the doors started to shut, "and my word is law."

_

"He only wants what's best for you," Ella said, laying a dress on my bed, "don't think less of him for it."

My room was nothing less then I would expect for a castle, yet I despise everything about it. The silk bed sheets, the hand draped tapestries, and the stained-glass windows. It made me sick to imagine what Timothée thought of my cottage, compared to this lavish lifestyle.

"Why is he keeping me here?" I responded, my hand trailing along the wooden bed-columns.

"I cannot answer that question," Ella sighed, pointing at the dress, "it has been requested that you wear that this evening."

"I'm not wearing that!"

"You must. Your current attire is not fitting for the celebratory dinner."

"There's a dinner?" I frowned, "are you serious?"

I gazed at the dress, its pink fabrics shining off the sunlight streaming it. It was covered in gold leaflets, which matched the bracelets sitting next to it on the mattress. I felt poor just by looking at it.

"It's not my size," I said, looking away.

"Yes, it is," Ella corrected, "there has been no mistake."

"How would you know my dress size?"

"The prince remembered it."

"Excuse me?"

"Please, you must change quickly," she stuttered, "he'll be here any second."

I picked up the dress, holding it up to my shoulders. Unfortunately, Ella was right. It was my size. As she left the room, I turned to look back out the window. I could see Lourdes from high up in the tower, it's small commodities just freckles in the hills.

I needed to go back there, even if it meant escaping this place.