My Reverse Fairytale

Chapter 4: The Great Plan

We were in a trance. My green eyes stared straight into his golden ones, as if we were both unable to break free of the stare. My hand wandered down my arm where I pinched the flesh on my wrist, almost as if to ensure myself that I wasn't in some sort of blissful dream.

"Evening, miss." Prince Carter's voice was sweet, light, tainted with nervousness.

"Prince Carter," I said. Hearing my own voice break into my ears was enough to convince me of the reality; I was not dreaming.

The corner of his mouth twisted up into a smirk. The Prince bowed at me, "Call me Carter, please."

I lifted my chin. "Then you must call me Janice." I wasn't going to be the girl that drooled over his presence, nonsense, that was for silly little girls. I was Janice Fields, and in seventeen years no one had made me gush.

He smiled that dazzling grin, but I didn't dare smile back. "I just wanted to see how you were settling in," he said. His voice grew more raspy from his introduction, revealing his attempt at his Prince-perfect image.

"I am settling in fine." I nodded and began to close the door.

"Janice."

My name zipped through the crack in the door just before it locked shut. My palm rested on the wooden surface for a moment before I pulled the door open again.

"You do not have to pretend you want this, as I am quite aware you do not," he said the words quietly.

My tongue lashed across the front of my teeth in a desperate attempt to wet my mouth. "I am not pretending," was all I could say.

He asked to come in, and with great hesitation I let him. There we stood, his body facing the wall with his hands clasped behind his back, myself facing the back of his body with my arms crossed stiffly over my chest.

Prince Carter paced across the room, unable to control himself as his fingers felt over every item, just like I had done.

"Where are you from?" he asked, his fidgeting now focused on a silver frame on the wall.

"The North. Far, far North."

He averted his attention from the frame to look at me. "A rich family in a poor town, then? As my father said, to bind the two."

A short laugh escaped my throat, and I stopped myself at the realization of his seriousness. I cleared my throat, "Excuse me," I said, the red colour of embarrassment flooding my cheeks. "Actually I have no family. My mother died years ago and I have never met my father."

The silence grew thick. It felt as if the only way to break it would be to take a knife and cut us out of the smothering lack of sound. Finally, Carter shattered it, "I am sorry for your losses."

I only nodded. He took another step forwards, collapsing down into one of the two wooden chairs. "So what is the life of Janice Fields, then? If not from a rich family, if no family at all?"

I smiled. "There is not much to say.” Yet I shared my short anecdote, beginning with being raised in Lady Adeney's quarters, and ending with my capture to the King's castle. It was a quick, disheartening story.

"Are you glad to be here, then?" His question interrupted my thoughts, bringing me back to the little room in which we sat.

My shoulders shrugged in response, "In some ways more than others."

Carter's smile was slight. "I guess being forced into a marriage is not exactly the best welcoming gift."

I turned my head towards the floor, a grin pulling at my lips. "Beth has been very kind to me, it is giving me some form of welcome.”

Carter grabbed onto the seat of the chair, as if he thought the room would begin to shake. "She's a wonderful woman, like a mother to me."

"What about your mother?" I asked.

I had never seen the light drain from someone's face as quickly as it did from Prince Carter Jackson's just then. "She died when I was nine. She uh--" he gave his head a nod.

He did not have to finish his sentence. The Prince had lost his mother to the same dreadful epidemic that I had lost my own to. The flashback tore into my skull, forcing the hairs on my arms to stand and my throat to grow dry. It was impossible to forget. The streets flooded with decaying bodies, children wailing on the street corner as they searched desperately for their deceased parents. Yet at the time that wasn't what had stuck with me, as I had been one of those children, standing on the street, a shattered heart and a tear stained face.

"I remember," I said.

And I did. That day where the King travelled through the land in a black carriage, every citizen from every town lined up on the street to give their mourning for the fallen Queen. That was the first time I had felt a disgust for our King. His ignorance as he rode over the dead bodies, forcing all to give their prayers and get on their knees for his wife, and his wife only.

The conversation died, neither Carter nor I wishing to continue it. As the silence grew heavier, seeking to smother once more, I spoke: "Doesn't the Prince have a say in who he is to marry?"

Carter shook his head, "I do, but the King makes all the final decisions, and it looks like this is his."

"The King?" I rocked back on my heels, and at Carter's silence I elaborated. "Do you not call him your father?"

He chuckled, and for a moment I wondered what was funny. Carter explained, "He is the furthest man away from being anything close to a father."

I jutted out my jaw, again unable to conjure up words. "Well, at least we do not hate each other, Prince Carter."

He laughed, "At least not yet."

I smiled, but the wave of happiness vanished quickly. "So you are perfectly fine with living under the King's command for the rest of your life? Knowing how little care he has for his son's happiness?" I asked the question slowly, afraid that I would offend the Prince.

He did not seem offended in the least. Carter only shrugged, "If there was another option, or something I could do to fix it then I would do it. But in this castle, options are usually scarce."

My smile returned. "Maybe they are not as scarce as he leads you to believe."

His face lifted into a smirk, excitement and curiosity washing over his features. "Go on, my future Princess."

I ignored his playful comment. "Are there any rules about marriage once you are wedded? I mean, like how one must act?"

He shook his head after a moment, "No, they cannot force such thing as emotion. The only expectation is cooperation. Forced marriages are usually just to gain something, like linking royal families for stronger bloodlines."

I placed my hand onto the back of the other chair. “Then why me?”

He didn't answer. He didn't have to, his silence was enough to show me that the Prince was just as clueless on the matter as I was myself. I shook the thought away, clasping my hands together as I went on: "Then what if we marry, but show him we're not participating in his--" I paused, stopping to let the grin grow on my lips, "his games."

Carter rose to his feet, his golden brown eyes watching me carefully. "And just how do you suppose we do that? And more importantly, why would we do that?"

I smiled, "We become the unhappiest couple ever known to the land." I walked forwards, placing my palms flat against my future husband's shoulders. "The Kingdom will wallow in the misery of the Prince and Princess, and the King will for once feel defeat."