The scorned princess

Poisonous apple

When he left her in that village, Alistair never really believed he would be away for so long. Salesberry was so close to the border that it was the closest settlement still within the empire to the battlefield. He thought that, at least, he would be able to stop by once the war was over. It seemed, though, that the gods had other plans or at least the emperor.

As soon as the war was won, he was called back to the capital, hailed as a hero, to receive honours and promotions befitting his exploits. After all, he was the one who led the decisive battle, the one who tipped the scale of that senseless war with his tactics.

When the emperor asked him what reward he wanted, Alistair, the third son of Duke Oakley, said he wanted the emperor to bless his union with a woman. He planned to bring his beloved to the palace and have the monarch bless them so his family could not oppose the marriage because it was a given that his father would never want to accept a woman with no title as his son's bride.

The plan takes a turn for the worse when the emperor decides to handpick his bride. All three of his eldest daughters were already married, leaving only one unmarried. It was her, the worst of them all, the only one to ever be disowned by the imperial family, a true villainess who had conspired against her mother. Her deeds were so heinous that even her blood couldn't stand to be in her presence.

"Being in-law with the emperor is your blessing son. It proves just how much I value your talents." said the emperor as he was signing his decree for the marriage.

Alistair stared at the emperor wanting to say something, but as soon as he opened his mouth, his father interjected :

"A true honour, your majesty. We couldn't hope for a better woman than Princess Margaret."

Lies. It was all lies, but Alistair's father was a politician who only wanted to remain in the emperor's good graces. It was without saying that being an adept politician, the duke already understood what his youngest son had planned and why. It was out of the question that his pride, the best of his sons would marry anything less than a princess, even one with a reputation such as Margaret.

"Of course. Margaret will be a perfect bride to Alistair. She is after all the empress's only child. Being with her will give the Oakley Duchy the renown and prestige that it is due." Answered the monarch smiling, obviously quite happy with the Duke's decision to accept the betrothal to his daughter.

Alistair, as a good tactician as he was never felt so powerless, so incapable of anything as he felt at that moment, as two men with whom he barely had a real connection were deciding on his only chance at happiness.

And all he could think of was Maggy, the apprentice doctor who kept him alive when he got seriously injured during one of his battles. He could only think of her smile and way too soft hands changing his bandages. He could still hear her voice in his head, as she swore to wait for him.

He was about to fail her. No, he already had. He couldn't see a world in which he could escape a wedding with Margaret.

He already despised every fiber of her being. She was the reason why he couldn't go to Maggy the ever-so-kind young woman who not only saved his life, but also his soul and his heart.

He wanted to scream at his emperor, to beg for him to change his mind, but, his father led him out of the emperor's big office.

They weren't even out of the palace grounds when the young military officer snapped.

"WHY? Why must I suffer such humiliation? Don't you think that Margaret woman will bring more trouble than she's worth to our family?"

They sighted at those words.

"At least, she is no gold-digger like the one you have on your mind."

"What do you mean?" Asked Alistair more defensively than he wanted.

"If you think I don't know about your war flings. Son, I raised you. Do you believe you can hide anything from me? That woman is after your name and money and I'd rather have to deal with a princess like Margaret than a penniless peasant who will try to steal my legacy using her womb and pretty lies."

The patriarch of the Oakley duchy sounded disgusted by the thought of his blood being mixed with one less worthy, as he once said.

"Don't you dare...." started the younger man.

"Or what? Don't I dare what? Insult your little vixen? What will do then ?" Snapped back the duke.

Alistair knew he could do nothing to him even though, sometimes, he truly wished he could. If anything were to happen to his father right now, he would lose any chance to keep his future bride in check and Oakley's duchy would lose considerable power. They would be totally at the emperor's mercy, and any noble knew that the emperor didn't trust any of his dukes. Even less those who made capable heirs who had a direct hand in the empire's glory, like Alistair. If the Oakley's sons lived in relative peace, it was mostly thanks to the duke's efforts at smoothing things with the emperor.

"His Majesty will summon your fiancée back to the palace soon enough."

The young soldier knew he had to keep Maggy where she was, in his mind, as a distant memory of what it would've been to be happy. If he didn't have much affection for his father, he had to admit that his two remaining brothers did not deserve the wrath of the emperor, shall he learn of Alistair's beloved. And even worse, he couldn't let Margaret learn of it either. If that woman could try to murder her mother, what could she do to a peasant girl that could stand in the way of her marriage?

His heart sank. He wanted to rewind the flow of time, get it frozen when they exchanged that last kiss, when it still wasn't too late when he could still call her his.