Ashes of the First Prince

Esteemed Daughter

"So, Sister, tell me," Oscar Morgan inquired, his curiosity piqued. "What manner of man do you envision as your future husband?"

Hazel, though still annoyed by the turn of events that brought her to the capital, couldn't help but indulge in a bit of fantasy. "He would love me with all his heart," she declared, a wistful smile gracing her lips.

“He would be devoted to me, always putting my happiness above all else. He would make me laugh, even when I feel downcast, and always have time for me."

Oscar knew his sister had no real intention of marrying anytime soon, but he played along, eager to distract her from her worries.

"All those qualities are admirable," he remarked, "but always having time for you? That limits your options considerably."

"Oh?" Hazel raised an eyebrow. "And what would those options be, Brother?"

"Well," Oscar teased, "you'd have to marry a man with no responsibilities, no ambitions... perhaps a humble peasant farmer?"

"Even a farmer would have his fields to tend," Hazel countered thoughtfully. "Perhaps... a wandering minstrel?"

Oscar burst out laughing. "A minstrel? Imagine, my sister, the esteemed daughter of General Marlow, wedded to a wandering musician!"

Hazel giggled, her earlier annoyance fading. "Why not? As long as he possesses the qualities I desire, his profession matters little. I could manage our household affairs while he serenades me with love songs."

Oscar shook his head, amused by his sister's fanciful notions. "You are incorrigible, Hazel."

Unbeknownst to them, Prince Calhoun, listening from the neighboring palanquin, found himself increasingly intrigued by the spirited young woman.

"Brother," Hazel continued, her tone turning serious, "I am but eighteen. I had so many plans, so many dreams... This sudden change of plans has disrupted everything. You know I have no desire to marry."

"I understand, Hazel," Oscar said soothingly. "No one will force you to do anything against your will. Our parents simply wish for you to receive a proper education in courtly matters and Imperial history."

"That is merely a pretext," Hazel insisted. "They believe that by studying these things, I will be better prepared for a life as a noble man's wife." A hint of sadness crept into her voice. "Brother, you know my aspirations lie elsewhere."

"Hazel, you are a bright young woman, with a keen mind and a thirst for knowledge," Oscar said, pride evident in his voice. He couldn't resist adding a playful jab, "Though, at times, your antics make me question the accuracy of your tutors' assessments."

Hazel narrowed her eyes playfully, and Oscar quickly amended his tone. "The lessons will be a mere trifle for someone of your intellect."

"But what of my own interests?" Hazel persisted.

"Our parents only want you to be happy and fulfilled," Oscar assured her. "This talk of marriage is premature. Focus on your studies, and everything else will fall into place."

Prince Calhoun, his curiosity about Hazel's dreams growing, strained to hear more, but Oscar wisely steered the conversation towards lighter topics.

"Now, close your eyes and rest, Sister," he suggested. "We have had a long journey."

Hazel nodded and settled back against the cushions, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Disappointed that the siblings' conversation had ended, Prince Calhoun sighed and leaned back, thoughts of the intriguing Hazel Morgans swirling in his mind.

After a restful night at an Imperial guesthouse, the procession reached the palace gates the following morning. As they disembarked from their palanquins, Hazel's gaze briefly met Prince Calhoun's. She frowned and quickly looked away, but Oscar offered a polite nod and a smile, which the Prince returned.

Once inside the palace walls, Oscar and Hazel were escorted to their designated quarters. As they settled in, Oscar turned to his sister.

"Still upset?" he asked gently.

"No," Hazel replied, though her expression remained troubled.

"Something weighs on your mind," Oscar observed.

"I have been thinking," Hazel confessed. "Perhaps I was too harsh on our parents. I said things I regret in a moment of anger."

"I understand," Oscar said reassuringly.

"I love them dearly," Hazel continued, "and I want to honor their wishes. But it is difficult to abandon my own dreams, especially when Mother seemed so supportive of them just days ago."

"Mother always has our best interests at heart," Oscar reminded her. "Trust in her wisdom."

"I do trust her, Brother," Hazel said, with newfound resolve.

"That's my girl," Oscar said, beaming at his sister.

Soon, the palanquin bearing Prince Calhoun arrived at the imposing gates of the Eastern Palace, the residence of the Crown Prince. As Calhoun stepped out, he was greeted by the palace steward, Jones, who bowed deeply.

"Your Highness," Jones greeted, leading the way through the grand entrance.

A warm, melodic voice echoed through the hall. " Calhoun! You have returned!"

The Queen Mother, Corliss Dixon, emerged from her chambers, her face alight with a welcoming smile.

Calhoun's stern demeanor softened as he approached his mother. He bowed respectfully before embracing her.

"Grand Mother," he greeted warmly. "It has been too long."

"Indeed, my son," the Queen Mother replied, her eyes sparkling with affection. "I have missed you dearly."

Sandon, the Prince's attendant, bowed respectfully. "Your Highness."

"Sandon," the Queen Mother acknowledged with a nod.

Calhoun turned to his attendant. "You are dismissed for the day, Sandon. Rest and return on the morrow."

Sandon bowed and took his leave.

Since the Emperor's recent illness, Prince Calhoun had assumed many of his Grandfather's duties, presiding over court and managing affairs of state.

Though some within the court questioned his authority, Calhoun, like his father, possessed a keen intellect and an iron will. He had been trained from a young age in the arts of leadership and diplomacy, despite his early passion for swordsmanship and a disinterest in politics.

He was known throughout the kingdom for his shrewdness and unwavering resolve.

"Grand Mother, where is the Emperor?" Calhoun inquired.

Before the Queen Mother could answer, a booming voice resonated from the adjoining room.

"Who dares inquire after this old man? I am still young enough to father another dozen princes!"

The Queen Mother rolled her eyes playfully. "He never changes," she murmured.

Calhoun chuckled. "Indeed." Even Jones, the aging steward, struggled to contain a smile.

The Emperor, dressed in comfortable robes, strode into the hall. He had overheard Calhoun's question and feigned offense.

Calhoun bowed deeply. "Grandfather, you look well."

The Emperor embraced his son. "Calhoun, my son. It gladdens my heart to see you."