The Alliance

Chapter 7: Feast of Deception

The castle hall of Eldermere glitters with sumptuosity. The table are laden with golden goblets, steaming platters of roasted meats and vibrant arrangements of fresh fruit. Musicians play a soft melody as nobles and courtiers raises their glasses to welcome the English ambassador, Sir Alfred of Mercia, a stern yet refined man who carries himself with a weight of his queen’s authority.

At the head of the table sits King Maises, regal and commanding, with Queen Elenna by his side, her beauty adorned with jewels and silks.

Surrounding them are their daughters, each resplendent in gowns of their choosing. Yet despite the festive air, one princess sits stiffly, her displeasure barely concealed.

Princess Bianca, dressed in a gown of blue velvet that matches her striking eyes, toying with her goblet of wine, her jaw tightens. She has heard whispers of her impending marriage to the English prince for days, but hearing the ambassador declare it officially feels like a weight crushing her chest.

Sir Alfred rises, holding a scroll tied with a crimson ribbon. The hall falls silent as he unrolls it and reads aloud.

“Her Majesty, the Queen of Mercia, graciously accepts King Maises’s request for an alliance through marriage. The prince is eager to unite our lands and our legacies. The wedding is to take place in fifteen days time.”

Cheers erupts, and goblets are raised, but Bianca’s heart sinks. She drains her wine in one swift motion and signals for more, ignoring the concerned glance from her mother.

As the night wears on, Bianca’s frustration bubbles over. She drinks glass to glass, her laughter too loud and her comments cutting. At one point, she stands abruptly, interrupting Sir Alfred mid-sentence.

“So,” she slurs, raising her goblet high, “I’m to marry a prince I’ve never met. Isn’t that romantic? Tell me Sir Alfred, does he even have all his teeth?”

A ripple of uncomfortable laughter spread through the room. The queen’s eyes widens in shock and King Maises’s face darkens.

“Bianca” he says sharply, his voice low but firm.“ That’s enough.”

But Bianca, fueled by wine and fury, isn’t finished. She stumbles forward, nearly knocking down a plate of fruits. “Perhaps,” She continues, her voice loud enough for all to hear “He’ll be so charmed by my wit that he’ll forget I’m being sold off like a priced mare.”

The hall falls silent, save for murmurs of the astonished guests. Sir Alfred’s expression is unreadable, though his eyes flickers with something between amusement and disdain.

“Princess Bianca” he says after a long pause,his tone measured “Your candor is refreshing. But the prince is a man of refinement. He values beauty above all else. Perhaps it would be wise to send a portrait of you ahead, to ease his anticipation.”

King Maises nods stiffly, his jaw clenched.”We shall send our finest artist to prepare the portrait immediately.”

“What’s the prince like?” Queen Elenna asks Sir Alfred, trying to distract him from her daughter’s deviance.

”Well, Prince Phillip is no ordinary royal. At 28 years old, his reputation as a warrior-prince is known across Europe. His physique is a testament to his rigorous training—broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a stature that makes him tower over most men. He has won countless battles, and his skill with the sword is unparalleled. But it isn’t just his strength that makes him admired by all— it is his integrity.

“And of course every maiden in the castle dreams of catching his eye” Sir Alfred smiles calmly. “His angular features, deep blue eyes, and dark blond hair gives him a rugged, princely allure that compliments his persona perfectly. That’s all I can say for now, I’d leave the rest to your discretion, your Highness.”

As the feast comes to an end, Bianca storms out of the hall, leaving her sisters and the court to clean up her mess. Before she reaches her chambers, Knight Declan blocks her path. “The King has summoned you, he awaits your presence at the royal study, Come with me.”

The air in King Maises’s private study is heavy with tension. Bianca stands before her father staggering, her head bowed but her defiance evident in the slight tilt of her chin. King Maises pace back and forth, his face dark with anger, the rich embroidery of his robes catching the flickering light of the fire.

“Bianca,” he begins sharply, his voice echoing in the quiet room, “what you did at the feast was nothing short of a disgrace.”

She flinches slightly but remains silent.

“You mocked the prince, insulted our guests, and made a spectacle of yourself in front of the entire court!” His tone softens slightly but retains its edge. “Do you have any idea how fragile alliances are? How much is at stake?”

Bianca finally raises her head, her sea-blue eyes burning with frustration. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be bartered away like cattle?”

The king stops pacing and turns to her, his expression hard. “Enough!” His voice booms, making her wince. “This is not about you. This is about our kingdom, our people. Do you think I enjoy this? Sending my daughter to a foreign land? Sacrificing your happiness is not a decision I take lightly. But it is necessary.”

Her lips quivers, but she bites back any retort.

Maises sighs deeply, his anger tempered by the sight of his delicate daughter standing before him, still so young despite her boldness. He steps closer, his tone softer but still firm. “You are a princess, Bianca. With that title comes responsibility—whether you like it or not. If you ever humiliate me, our family, or this kingdom again, the consequences will be severe. Do you understand?”

Bianca hesitates, then nods stiffly. “Yes, Father.”

The king studies her for a moment, his piercing gaze searching hers. Finally, he nods. “Good. Now, go to your chambers and compose yourself. I will not tolerate another outburst.”

Bianca curtsies stiffly and leaves the study, her fists clenched at her sides. Behind her, King Maises sinks into his chair, rubbing his temples as the weight of the kingdom bares down on him once more.

In the days that followed, Princess Calista, ever perceptive and fiercely loyal to her siblings, noticed how deeply Bianca despised the marriage. Late one night, she slipped into Bianca’s chambers.

“I’ll help you,” Calista whispered, setting down her sketchbook.

“What are you talking about?” Bianca asked, lying on her bed with a pillow over her face.

“I’ll draw Jasmine instead,” Calista said, her amber eyes gleaming with mischief. “Her beauty is unmatched. If the prince falls for the portrait, you’ll be free.”

Bianca sat up, her brows furrowed. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course,” Calista said with a grin. “What’s family for?”

The next day, Calista worked tirelessly in her studio, using her sharp eye for detail to create a stunning portrait of Jasmine. She captured her raven-black hair, delicate features, and emerald eyes with breathtaking accuracy. When she presented the sealed finished piece to Sir Alfred, he was impressed.

“Princess Calista, your kind gesture has moved me.” he said, staring at the sealed painting like it was visible. “The prince will be most pleased.”

Calista smiled politely, hiding her nerves. “It was an honor, Sir Alfred.”

As the ambassador departed with the portrait in hand, Bianca felt a surge of hope. Meanwhile, Jasmine, unaware of the deception, gazed out of her chamber window, longing for her mother’s warm embrace and the simple joys of her old life. Little did she know, her beauty had become the centerpiece of a scheme that might change all their lives forever.