The Royal Scapegoat

Guilt Never Ceases to Leave

Daley’s breath hitched, the air in the ruined hall feeling suddenly too thin.

"Prince Roy?" the Queen gasped, her regal composure fall apart. "Roy... can it truly be you?"

The name hit Daley with the force of a physical blow. Roy. The boy from the letters—the boy she tormented as a child —was the man standing before her. She spun toward her mother, her eyes blazing with betrayal.

"Mother, what is this? You’ve married me to my sister’s lover!" Her voice shook with a mixture of shame and fury. "Is that why Rachel isn't here? Was this the plan all along?"

Roy let out a sharp, jagged scoff. "Don't insult me with this performance," he snapped, his voice dripping with venom.

"Was breaking my spirit as a child not enough for you? Did you have to trap me in a marriage, too?"

"A trap? You think I chose this?" Daley shot back. "I was told I was marrying a stranger, a savior! I didn't want this any more than you did!"

Roy turned his back on her, his patience clearly at an end. He raised a hand, silencing the panicked whispers of the court. "I refuse to recognize this union," he declared, his voice cold and final. "The arrangement was for Princess Rachel. Until she stands before me, my kingdom’s borders remain sealed. The curse can take us all for all I care."

Without a backward glance, he strode out, his guards falling into a synchronized march behind him.

"At least take your bride!" Duchess Katherine cried out, clutching her skirts as she chased after him. Roy didn't even slow down. Within moments, the roar of his engine faded into the distance.

Katherine collapsed into a chair, dissolved in tears. "The disgrace... Daley will be the mockery of the continent. No one will marry her now.”

"The curse is held for the moment, and that is what matters," Queen Susan said, her voice unnervingly steady. She approached Daley, the rhythmic thud of her staff echoing in the silent hall. "Return to your chambers. Pack your things. You will follow him to his kingdom tonight."

"I won't!" Daley cried, her eyes stinging. "I won't go to a man who hates me—a man who caused Father’s death!"

The Queen’s expression shifted from cold to incisive. "Do you truly believe that, Daley? Or is that simply the lie you tell so you can sleep at night?"

Daley’s heart plummeted.

"You were the one who sent him over that ledge," her mother whispered, stepping into Daley’s personal space. "I see it every time I close my eyes. Your selfishness, your recklessness... you put him in the ground."

The memory hit Daley like a tidal wave. She remembered mocking Roy’s shaking hands and his slow, careful writings. She remembered how Rachel—kind, gentle Rachel—had been the only one to offer him comfort. Rachel had spent years mending the pieces Daley had broken. Daley was nothing but painful memory to everyone.

She remembered the afternoon of the accident. Her father had begged her to be kind, to reconcile. Daley had only laughed, shoving Roy aside as she raced down the grand staircase. “Catch me, Daddy!” she had teased. Roy warned her to stop. She could hear his trembling voice and his reminder of how fragile her father's legs were. Then it happened. The scramble of her father’s weak knees, the slip of his foot, and the sickening silence that followed. Her dad fell! He stumbled down the stairs and it was all because of her.

Daley was so traumatized, she didn’t hear her mother’s chilling scream.

"Homer! Homer please wake up!" her mum pleaded, her eyes not leaving her husband.

Daley felt her stomach tighten.

"Go," the Queen commanded grounding her back to reality. "Pack. Now. Leave my damn palace!”

Daley fled to her room, slamming the heavy oak door. Remorse was a physical weight in her chest, a suffocating pressure she couldn't escape. This going bad! Very very bad!

"Princess Daley—" a servant knocked.

"Go away!" she screamed, sinking to the floor.

Her mother wasn’t ready to give up that easily.

"The car is waiting," her mother’s voice boomed from the hallway.

"Why do I have to go?! I won't go!" Daley shouted back. “ Rachel should go! She’s the one he wants! Give him the sister he actually loves!"

"Daley—"

"I said NO!"

The door shuddered under the Queen’s fist, but a softer voice intervened. "Mother... let me speak with her."

The door unlocked, and Rachel slipped inside. Daley clung to her sister, her voice breaking. "They’re stealing your life to pay for my sins, Rachel. You can't let him go like this. This is all my fault,”

"No, It’s not like that, sister," Rachel said, her voice eerily calm. "I already knew about the arrangement."

Daley pulled back, her eyes widening. "You knew I was being forced into your place?"

"Yes." Rachel walked toward the door, her hand steady on the latch.

“Why Rachel? Why didn’t you do anything about your love? Why didn’t you stop this?” Daley asked.

“It is for the best, Daley. At least that’s what mother told me. I didn’t know you would hate this. I can also make things right,” Rachel smiled .

"Rachel, don't. You can’t go to him now. He’s changed. He’s cold, he’s full of hate..."

"I can handle Roy," Rachel whispered. Then she opened the door and let the queen in.

“Send words to Prince Roy, mother. I will be going in my sister’s place. But until then, he has to open the sealed border,” Rachel said to her mother.

“Are you sure about this?” The queen asked.

Rachel caught her own reflection in the mirror, and for a fleeting second, a sharp, predatory smirk touched her lips.

"Yes, I am sure. I believe I can handle everything."

***

In the neighboring kingdom, Prince Roy paced his study like a caged predator. Every thought of Daley made his blood boil. A sudden knock broke his trance.

"Princess Rachel has arrived, Your Highness."

The fury vanished instantly, replaced by a desperate, radiant hope. Roy bolted from the room, nearly knocking over his attendants as he sprinted toward the courtyard. He reached the gates just as the royal carriage came to a halt.

The door opened.

The world went silent.