Princess and the Handmaiden

Chapter 3 (Celina/Bathilda)

The servant led her to her room.

"You will be sharing a bedchamber with Princess Bathilda," he said.

"I see," said Celina. He instructed her servants to leave her possessions in the room. Afterward, he dismissed them.

"Good luck, my lady," whispered Elizabeth as she passed. "They say the princess is a difficult one."

She watched as her servants were escorted out of the castle. Dread overwhelmed her senses. Elizabeth, her closest maid, was her support. What was she to do without her?

"We'd best go to His Majesty. I imagine he is expecting us in the dining room."

"Of course." She nodded. "If I might ask, what is your name?"

He spun around, his mantle flapping in the air and revealing a missing arm.

"Rowan," he said with a wide smile.

They arrived at a dark set of double doors, the entrance of the dining room where King Hammond and his daughter were dining in. Two soldiers stood on either side of the doors, faces emotionless.  The servant approached them first.

"We request entry into the dining room," said Rowan, bowing over. He turned to look at Celina. "This is Lady Celina of the House of Meuric. She is the new handmaiden of the princess."

Even after being referred to as a handmaiden several times, she was still not used to it.

"Your request has been accepted," the guards said. They stepped aside and opened the doors.

This was it. She was about to meet King Hammond and Princess Bathilda. Her stomach buzzed with both excitement and anticipation. She would do fine, and things would go smoothly. She was the example, the representation of what a good lady was. After drawing in a deep breath, she followed Rowan into the room.

Her gaze swept over the chaos. A tablecloth fell on the ground. Shattered plates littered the floor. Unfinished food splattered all over the rug. Beside her feet was a broken candlelabra. Servants scrambled to their feet, trying their best to clean the mess.

Despite the mess, it was still a simple but elegant room. In the center, there was a long table that extended across the length of the room. The table sat above a large, patterned rug. Candles hung on sconces, giving off a faint smell of flames. The walls were covered in golden velvet. On the other side of the doors were three sets of large windows, each one with an arch at the top. On one side of wall, there was a grand fireplace. A sculpture of the kingdom's emblem--red and yellow with a griffin in the center--was hung above.

Two figures stood on opposing sides of the table, staring intently at one another. Terror gnawed at her stomach. It was only her first day at the castle and she had to deal with this. She glanced at Rowan, searching for some sign of reassurance.

To her dismay, he glanced back, sharing the same panic-stricken look in his eyes.

"Your Majesty?" His voice was shaky.

The two figures looked over in their direction. Celina found herself shaking as well.

On one side of the table was a girl who looked to be about her age.

She had dark, thick locks of hair. Her light brown complexion was fair and smooth. Her chin tapered to a point. Her cheeks glistened under the light. Her body had a rounded, curvy shape to it. But her most mesmerizing trait were her chestnut brown eyes. They carried an alluring intensity to them. It was like watching a flame flicker and dance in the air. She just couldn't look away.

Her heart skipped a beat. Feeling her cheeks grow hot, she focused on her clothes instead.

She wore striped, dark green doublet over a white, ruffled undershirt. Brown splotches stained her left sleeve. Her clothes screamed a signal that she needed help. Badly. The sight of a girl wearing the clothes of a boy didn't rub her the right away. But there was something almost liberating about it?

She turned to the man. He dressed in elegant, golden robes and a long, flowing crimson cloak. On top of his head, he wore a crown. He had curly, dark gray hair that went around his head like a lion's mane and a bushy beard. He stood up from his seat, a thin smile on his face. There was a sense of pride and dignity in his posture.

"Lady Celina of the House of Meuric has arrived," the servant announced, gesturing toward Celina. She curtsied and all of the color on her face was drained. She straightened and moved her arms to her sides. They felt stiff.

The man clasped his hands together.

"Excellent! Perfect timing as well, if I will admit!" The corners of his lips curved up. He turned to Rowan and to the other servants in the room.

"You are all dismissed. I would like to meet my daughter's new handmaiden alone."

The servant cast her sympathetic look before leaving the room.  Her heart plummeted to her stomach as the realization struck her. She was alone. Alone in a room with two strangers. She moved her hands behind her back and clutched them tightly.

"Now! It would only be right to introduce ourselves. I am Your Majesty, King Hammond," he said. He turned to the girl. "And this is Princess--"

"Bathilda," the girl cut in.

She curtsied again. "And I am Lady Celina of the House of Meuric."

"Take a seat," said King Hammond, point to a chair beside him. "Excuse the mess."

She walked over and sat.

---

Bathilda was simmering like boiling water. She sunk down in her chair. Her frustration gnawed at her skin. All that was left were the food stains on the carpet. That wasn't coming off anytime soon, she thought with a smirk. Her gaze wandered over to her father.

He was unreadable as ever, though she could tell from the way his fists clenched that he was still angry at her. At least he wasn't talking to her. Her father was in deep conversation with that girl.

The girl was just as young as her. Blonde, wavy hair. Pale, creamy skin. Soft, rosy cheeks. Round, youthful face. Skinny frame. Small, marble blue eyes. She wore a fitted, yellow dress. A golden-laced girdle was fastened around her waist. She had this aura of youthful innocence. She was like a dainty blue butterfly.

There was something about the way she smiled. The way her mouth curved up in a gentle way. The way her eyes squinted like teardrops.

Why was she even thinking about that?

She slammed a fist on the table. King Hammond and the girl turned to her. Finally, she was a topic of interest.

"Ah, yes. My unfortunate daughter," he said, sipping his tea. He smiled at the girl. "I am certain you will educate her well. Her upbringing hasn't been... the best, if you can tell. For Elysium's sake, she's wearing the clothes of a boy!"

She sighed. Was he seriously going to nag at her about this to that girl? They were just clothes. Clothes. Besides, dresses were too much of a hassle to wear.

"Thank you. I appreciate your faith in me," said the girl. What was her name again? Was it Selene? No, she shook her head. It was Celina. That's right. The girl met her gaze. Bathilda suddenly became hyper aware of her self. She tugged at her curls, and patted down her tunic.

"Princess Bathilda. Say something to your new handmaiden," said her father. Always going to be a pain in the ass, huh? First he hired a handmaiden--without her will--just so she could marry someone. And now he was going to be incredibly bothersome about it? Fine, she huffed. Two could play at that game.

She flashed Celina a devilish smirk.

"Good luck."