8 Chapter Four: A Quiet Queen

THE DINNER TABLE is silent. King Charles has made about twenty awfully awkward attempts to provoke conversation among all the royals in the room, but there’s something off in the air. Prince Henry still isn’t smiling. He’s not talking. He’s eating –granted, slowly- and he’s staring at the fork he’s using to poke at the piece of steak on his plate.

When Rowan had greeted him earlier, Henry had only nodded and offered him another closed-mouth smile. He didn’t say much. He doesn’t seem very comfortable being here and if he is, he doesn’t seem very amiable.

The other Royals in the room aren’t entirely sure how to entertain him. They all suspect –especially Ericia- that somehow Prince Henry had ended up here by force. Perhaps he didn’t want to come to Vynier. Perhaps he didn’t want to create the alliance. Perhaps this was all his father’s desires, and he was just a puppet.

God, Ericia thinks, and wouldn’t I just happen to know all about puppets...

“So on the subject of the alliance,” King Charles says, chewing a large chunk of steak, “have you decided on whether you want to have the official signing after the training of the army, or before?”

Henry stops, cold. He stares at the fork in his hand that now isn’t moving. Charles keeps a smile on his face, hoping to remain polite.

Henry clears his throat. “My father has decided that he would like the official ceremony to happen after the training. It would be nice to have the trained armies standing together. Of course, training could go on for quite some time, so even I’m not really sure when this ceremony will actually happen. If it’s alright with you, Your Majesty, I’d like to explain my plan for the training.”

“By all means,” King Charles says, forking another chunk of meat and bringing it to his mouth.

Henry drops his fork, finally seeming interested in a topic for conversation. He turns to the King. “I will lead the training, as you are well aware. I’m hoping to have at least three months of training done –anyone who is eligible to join the army between the ages of eighteen to twenty-five may enter, granted they have no criminal record or undesirable reputation. They must come from well-equip families –or in the very least, capable of becoming well-equip with the right traits. The training will involve intensive exercise and practice of defensive arts but I will make it my mission to teach of the morals and discipline involved in matters as this as well. I will allow time off during weekends, but I will make the trainees aware that it is important to exercise and practice every single day.”

King Charles lets out a low laugh as Prince Henry stops talking. “You truly are quite the heir,” he says. “I have no doubt that you will take care of my men.”

Henry almost wants to laugh, but he offers another closed-mouth smile for only a few seconds. “Only the strongest will survive the training,” he says, looking down at his fork again. “And I do not mean the strongest physically. As I’m sure you are aware, Your Majesty, all show isn’t all go. It’s easier for the bigger peaks to fall than for the small.”

Henry sends King Charles a look that is almost untrusting. Charles raises his wine glass. “A toast,” he says, “To an Heir of Honour.”

Ericia sips her wine, Henry glancing over at her briefly. When Ericia looks up, he is sipping his wine, looking down at the uneaten steak on his plate. Ericia thinks that the Prince hasn’t looked at her ever since he had arrived. When he had been approached by King Charles and introduced to the Queen and Prince Rowan –whom he already knew- he was introduced lastly to Princess Ericia, who had bowed politely and offered him a smile. He only stared at her for a brief moment then, before turning to the King who proceeded to ramble on about the pleasure of having him in Vynier and all the boring things he had often heard on his trips to other lands.

By the end of dinner, Prince Henry leaves first, excusing himself and offering gratitude for the meal and for the opportunity to stay at the palace.

He says nothing less. He says nothing more.

***

Ericia yawns, turning and falling off her bed. She doesn’t fall on her back, thankfully, but it doesn’t stop the aching throb in her head.

She groans, resting her palm on her forehead.

She sits up on the floor, staring out through the window. The sun isn’t out yet, but Ericia is sure that her maids will appear behind her door soon, knocking and rushing in to prepare everything for her.

She summons enough energy to stand and walk over to her balcony. She opens the door. She walks outside. A blast of cold wind fills the surface of her bare skin, her bare legs exposed by her pajama shorts, shivering for a few moments before adjusting to the temperature.

She walks towards the concrete barrier and leans against it. The birds aren’t chirping yet. She looks out at Aeriston, spotting only a few dim lights from a few small buildings. Even now, she could see the hard workers who have awoken to get their duties for the day done.

Ericia’s eyes trail along the road that is leading from the city to the palace. Her eyes then reach the garden below her.

And then she sees him. She sees him, and he sees her.

Prince Henry stands at the edge of the garden, looking up at her on the balcony. Ericia rubs her eye and then rubs the other, but she keeps at least one eye on him the entire time.

She then realises something. She had woken up this morning not from the anxiety that usually fills her after having a nightmare, but from falling off of the bed after an unusually restful sleep.

Henry doesn’t take his eyes off of the Princess. Ericia is wondering if he’s only now getting a good look at her face since he hadn’t seemed to bother turning in her direction at all before. The look on his face is undecipherable. She nods at him, hoping to get a response, but he returns his attention to the view of Vynier, completely ignoring her.

Ericia stands frozen, frowning, puzzled. Why didn’t he acknowledge me –even after looking right at me?

“Someone’s up early,” a familiar voice says. It’s Rowan, and he appears from under the balcony, walking towards Henry.

“I didn’t know you were this much of an early riser, Henry, even after having you stay at Lystotia so many times.”

Ericia, slowing her way back into her room, doesn’t hear Henry’s reply to Rowan. He speaks so softly that the conversation withers as she disappears into her room and shuts the door silently once more.

She leans against the door, feeling her heartbeat. What is the matter with me? She pats the place over her heart and tries to control her now heavy breathing. Oh reckless heart of mine, be still. Be still. Be still. Be sti-

-Three knocks at her door appear and startle her, along with the habitual “Your Highness? It’s time to wake up,” from her maids.

“I’ll- I mean, Come in,” she says, blinking and walking over to her dresser to pretend she’d just been scratching her scalp and fixing her rumpled sweater.

***

“I hope you don’t mind,” Rowan says, revealing a small bouquet of flowers he had picked from Ericia’s own palace garden. There are roses and lilies in it, wrapped in hot pink cellophane and tied with a thin purple paper bow. Ericia takes it, smiling. “I thought about getting you one from the city, but I think that if I’m going to actually go there, I’d like it if you went with me.”

Ericia smells the flowers, appreciative of the effort he had made. “I’d love to go with you,” she says. “The truth is, I haven’t been to the city for a while, myself. I miss seeing the people up close. I miss talking to them, interacting and understanding them.”

“You haven’t been there for a while?” Prince Rowan asks, surprised. “But don’t you know what they say about you?”

Ericia suddenly stops smiling. She looks at the man before her, her face blank. “They... probably despise me, don’t they?”

Rowan appears baffled. “What? Why in the Heavens would they despise you, Ericia?”

“Because I-” she almost chokes at the thought of saying it out loud, “I haven’t been there for them.”

“Do you even know that they say?” he asks, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

“They probably say I’m faceless. They probably think I don’t care about them because I’m not able to visit or attend events. They probably think I’m selfish and don’t listen to my people. They probably think I’m the egocentric type.”

“Oh no,” Rowan says, shaking his head and laughing at Ericia’s pitiful expression. “You’ve been entirely deceived, Princess.”

“What?” She asks, looking up at him again. “What do you mean?”

Rowan takes her in his arms and hugs her. “When I was on my way here, do you know what I heard the village children singing?”

“No,” she says, “how would I have heard?”

The Prince bites his lip, smiling. “When the Princess is smiling, she is as bright as the sun,” he sings, though his voice is a little coarse, “when the Princess is singing, she is as gentle as the breeze, when the Princess is walking, she is as graceful as a flower flowing in the wind, so don’t you ever, ever, ever!,” he stresses, raising a brow, “...defame the wonderful princess -Ericia!- ever again!”

“What was that?” Ericia asks, amused. She pulls away from Rowan to look at his smiling face.

“When I was on my way to the palace, we stopped off to buy some eats at a market. There was a group of young kids there, all standing in a circle and singing that song, or rather, singing and shouting. They sang the same thing over and over, singing it quicker and louder each time. It started so slowly, and then got quicker and quicker, and every time someone couldn’t keep up, they were out of the circle. It was like a ring game, but even as a game, it was clear to me that they had appreciated you enough to sing about you. It gave me the impression that your people must love you a lot.”

Ericia’s eyes fill with tears. “I... I don’t know what to say... I don’t know what to think. What did I ever do to deserve their love? I haven’t been there for them.”

“Ericia,” Rowan says, focusing her glace gaze on him. “If you have the strength to cry over this, it means that you care. Perhaps you’re not doing as much as you should, but you care. You care and love your people, and one day, you’ll be ruling a kingdom full of citizens who love you. I’m sure that it was the elders who had encouraged their children to sing such songs –which means that adults look up to you. They believe in you. They want you to be the best Queen you can possibly be in the future, and they want you to be the best princess you can be now. The people are doing the right thing, Ericia. They’re an encouragement to you when you can’t encourage yourself.”

Ericia, now crying, hugs Rowan, hoping that he would stop talking. Stop, she pleads silently. Stop before I break down. Stop, because there’s nothing I can do as long as I’m under my father’s control. Stop, because the more you comfort me, the more I hear that they support me, the more I’ll want to try. Stop, because the more I want to try, the more I will, and if I do, I’ll die. There’s no doubt about it. I’ll die.

Rowan caresses her back as she cries silently into him. She squeezes him tightly and then tighter yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

I’m not the ruler I should be, she thinks to herself. I’m not the ruler I can be.

***

Ericia handles her sword, flipping through the pages of a book on Fencing as she practices in the silence of her bedroom.

En Garde, she says to herself, the stance coming naturally, Lunge, Parry.

There’s a knock at her door, and she panics. She drops the sword unto a rug so as to refrain from making any noise, and shoves it under the bed. She closes the book on fencing.

“Ericia?” says Rowan. “It’s me.”

“Oh,” she says, casually, “I’ll be right out.”

She glances around her room, having forgotten where she had tossed her bolero. She was practicing fencing in a sun dress, prepared for the unfortunate interruptions that might come such as these. She finds it under the pillow on her messy bed. She puts it on and loosens her braid, reviewing herself in the standing mirror to make sure she is presentable.

She walks over to the door and opens it to find Rowan, leaning against the wall just opposite to the door of her room, his hands in his pockets. He stands properly when he sees her, smiling as brightly as ever.

“Hello,” she says to him, coyly. “You appear quite determined, standing at the door of my room to fetch me yourself today.”

“I have to be as genuine as possible, no?” he replies, winking. “I was hoping you’d join me for some fresh air. It’s quite stuffy in here somehow.”

“Are you implying that my home is uncomfortable?” Ericia asks, raising a brow.

“Not at all,” Rowan says seriously, though he knows Ericia is joking. “But fresh air makes me feel more alive, somehow.”

Ericia nods. “Do you plan on strolling through the gardens again? Or will you take me to the pool?”

“Speaking of which,” Rowan says, “I haven’t had a swim there yet. Will it be okay to do so?”

“By all means, Prince Rowan, make yourself at home. You’ve been here for a little while already. If you’re going to be our guest, at least act like one,” says the Princess, laughing.

Rowan laughs, amused by the blush on her face and the unfixable trembles in her voice as she said that to him.

“Shall we?” he asks, extending a hand. “Perhaps we’ll swim and have lunch.”

Ericia takes his hand. “Sounds delightful.”

***

Ericia tries not to act phased by the defined muscles exposed by the prince in the water. She’s sitting with her feet inside the pool, watching him swim from end to end, but she doesn’t plan on getting completely wet. Somehow, swimming with her betrothed seems beyond her yet.

Ericia quickly realises that when she doesn’t feel like doing something, all she has to do is deny the offer and Rowan would leave her be. She also realises how foolish, inconsiderate, selfish and ignorant that would be, seeing as he came all the way here to spend time with her. She also knows that if she doesn’t agree with almost everything Rowan wants to do with her, her father would force her to do it, or he’ll punish her for not doing it.

“There you go again,” Rowan says.

“Huh?” she says, snapping out of thought.

“You’re looking distant –absentminded,” Rowan says.

Ericia only now realises that Rowan is standing in the water in front of her, looking at her with curious, concerned eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Every time Ericia has heard him ask her that, she’s wanted to disappear. The question alone makes her heart drop into her feet. It makes her heart ache. It makes her feel sick.

No, she thinks. I am not okay.

“Yes,” she lies. I have to be.

***

“Has he spoken to you yet?” Avie asks Ericia as she applies eyeliner to the Princess’ eye lids.

“Who?” Ericia asks, oblivious.

“Prince Henry,” Avie says. “You told me he was ignoring you.”

“He’s still ignoring me. He must not have heard very much about me, and based on what he probably knows, I mustn’t be a very valuable person to him, worthy of his time.”

“It’s not my place to say it, Ericia, but that’s quite vacuous,” Avie says, rolling her eyes and scoffing. “It’s pathetic. He’s the Prince of Phillimont, he should at least have the courtesy to entertain you in one reasonable conversation.”

“The way I see it, Avie, he’s only here because of his duties. He doesn’t seem to have the passion for it as rulers who truly want to improve things do, so my theory is that he’s only here because it’s his father’s will.”

“That is quite ignorant, too, especially seeing as he’s the heir to a kingdom like Phillimont,” Avie says. “I don’t mean to sound harsh in saying this, Ericia, but I’m so happy I wasn’t born a Royal. The politics of it all drives me up a wall and I only hear the trickling drops of it from you. It must be terrible.”

“You’re quite blessed not having this entitlement. You’re also quite blessed to be the best friend of a future Queen, probably. I wouldn’t know, I’m not on your side of the spectrum.”

“I feel quite fortunate, yes, but I think that you should be a little more straightforward. As your friend, I believe that from the way things are now, you’re heading for the position of a rather... quiet Queen.”

“Quiet?” Ericia asks. “Why that choice of the word?”

Prince Henry and the kingdom of Phillimont suddenly cross her mind. Phillimont is a quiet kingdom. Henry is a quiet prince. Would being a quiet queen truly be that great?

“You’re reserved, generally,” Avie says, finishing up on Ericia’s eye makeup. “I say quiet, but I don’t mean it in a negative way. You know that.”

“I know,” Ericia says. “I know.”

***

“Your Highness?” the maids call. Ericia turns on her bed, not wanting to wake up. “Your Highness, it’s really late. Everyone is already up.”

“What is it?” Ericia asks, grumpily.

“Today is the first day of the Vynierian army’s training, Your Highness,” says her maid from outside.

Ericia’s eyes open widely and she practically springs off of her bed, which causes her back to ache.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, no!” she panics. “Come in, all of you. Get to work. I’m so late.” She looks out to see that the sun is already out. “I’m so late, I’m so late,” she repeats as the maids rush in. “I am so late. My father is going to behead me.”

“It’s not too late yet, Your Highness,” says one of her maids, trying to calm her down as she takes her into the bathroom. “It’s only after seven. His Majesty, as well as Her Majesty and the Princes won’t be gathered with the troops until ten o’clock.

Ericia breathes a huge sigh of relief, feeling her speedy heartbeat. “Oh, thank you God. Where is Avie?”

“Avie is preparing refreshments for the troops. There are so many soldiers to keep up with, Your Highness,” says the maid, sounding weary.

“I know,” Ericia says, sorrowfully. “It must be incredibly hard for all of you. I’m so sorry.”

The maid prepares Ericia’s bath and leaves the room.

Ericia bathes and gets dressed, her maids working their magic with her makeup and hair. Finally ready, Ericia walks into the ceremony in the courtyard with a silver sun dress, her golden blonde hair flowing freely in waves and a silver crown atop her head. She’s wearing silver heels that hurt a little, but she doesn’t really care about them when she spots her father at the front.

Prince Henry is sitting besides Rowan, who is sitting beside an empty throne –her empty throne- which is beside her mother’s.

When Ericia makes it to the front and takes her seat, Rowan leans over to whisper to her. “You look stunning, Princess,” he says.

“Thank you,” she replies, smiling.

The troops are gathered in the large field beside the courtyard. The court members are seated in front of them, and the Royals lead the ceremony.

King Charles clears his throat, silences the crowd and speaks. “Today will begin perhaps the greatest improvement in Vynierian history. Today, the army of our beloved kingdom will begin their training with the troops of Phillimont. Over the past week, Vynier saw the rise of eligible young men who would join the army and today the ones who have been accepted stand beside members of the Royal army of Vynier, as well as the troops of Phillimont.”

King Charles then goes into the importance of training, and how the Montien army will strengthen the Vynierian one, as well as how the alliance will positively affect the kingdoms.

“Prince Henry Darwin,” King Charles says, gesturing over to the Prince, “will now speak on behalf of his father, his people and himself.”

Ericia, at the mention of his name, directs all of her attention to him. Henry stands, observing the troops. He sighs.

“I will lead the training, as I’m sure all of you already know. I look forward to strengthening this kingdom’s army, and strengthening my own. My father sends his greetings and his gratitude for all of the love, support and cooperation. To the new members, I say that training is not easy. It will not be easy. It never was. It never will be. Do your best. Work hard. Don’t give up. You are all made for great things. I don’t want to take up too much time, because I’ll give you all another pep talk when I see you all later, but for now, I’ll just give one piece of advice.” He pauses and assesses his words. Ericia turns towards the army, listening for his next statement. “War is no game. Don't suggest it. A weapon is not a toy. Don't play with it. No life is without purpose, so do not commit vengeful murder -whether physically, mentally, verbally, or emotionally, and do not be lost in hopelessness. You will find your calling. Most importantly, in all you do, be true to yourself.”

In all you do, Ericia repeats, be true to yourself.