The scorned princess

The imperial Palace

Margaret expected anything, truly, but not to be engaged to Alistair Oakley. Of course, she knew who he was. His reputation was more than well-established, and the simple mention of his name made a faint-of-heart shudder. Oakley was everything but a good man. He had eyes only for victory, no matter the cost. He could sacrifice the widows and the orphans without even batting an eyelash.

And she was supposed to marry him. She heard from her soldier, Alex, that Alistair was his commander. She blamed him for his injury. It must have been one of the ploys that cost a lot.

And the fact that Alex never came back to her always haunted a corner of her mind. She never let herself ponder over it too much, but the reality was that he could be dead, and if that was the case, it surely was Alistair's fault.

She saw how her beloved could fight a day before he went back to the battle, and someone who moved like him ... She just couldn't believe that he'd die because he wasn't good enough or strong enough. No, Alex was an incredible soldier, so much so that if he had been a poor man, he'd probably held a far higher position than the one he had when they met.

So, to Margaret, it was evident that her husband-to-be had been the cause of any mishap her beloved ever encountered.

And her father wanted her to marry the man?

No, she couldn't. Even if it was to make sure he'd never rebel against the emperor, even if it were the only way ever to claim everything taken from her all those years ago. None of it mattered anymore.

She made peace with being simple and plain: Maggy, Leon's apprentice and Alex's intended. That life had started to seem much more interesting to her than getting her title back, as she had once wished before meeting Leon and Annah.

Her father's adviser gave her one last look before saying dryly :

"You can get up. Starting tomorrow, you'll start the preparations for your wedding."

"But ..."

"No buts, Your Highness, these are His Majesty's orders."

Margaret bowed her head. He was right; this wasn't the man she had to argue with. She had to find a way to get an audience with her father.

She exited the throne room, looking right and left to see if the mais were still there. No, a good thing.

Her father would be in his office then... or dining with one of his three consorts. She decided to try her luck and check his office. But it was too late; the candles had blown for the night, and no one remained. She'd have to wait for the next day.

The good thing was that it gave her time to think, to organize her thoughts, to feel everything that just happened.

Being back in the imperial palace was something she once wished with everything she was ... but now? Now, it felt like she was trapped in the past. Every corner brought back a memory, some good, but mostly lonely. The thought of visiting her mother crossed her mind, but she couldn't bring herself.

She'd been chased away from her home because she was accused of attempting to murder her ... and she couldn't prove that it wasn't the case. Evidence was stacked against her from the get-go, and she never saw the scheme ... at least not until it was thrown in her face. Now, the only one who didn't seem to hate her in that cold palace was probably beside her because she was brought back there.

Margaret couldn't face her mother; the hurt she saw that day in her eyes was still very vivid.

The princess decided to go to her old room. Maybe it was still hers?

It took her far too long to reach her quarters, but they were there. The door squealed loudly as it opened, letting a small ray of light from the candle she held into the room. It revealed the spiderwebs and a fair amount of dust that covered almost everything. She sighed and went in, holding the candle slightly closer to her. All the riches it once held had been taken away, either confiscated by her father or stolen by the maids who thought no one would ever notice.

She shrugged. Gold ornaments didn't matter much, nor did any luxury items she learned to live without. The only thing that annoyed her was how much nobody here seemed to have even one iota of respect for her. She gritted her teeth. The young princess wasn't expecting much, even less when she thought about how things had ended back then, but adding that to everything that happened since she came back ... even she, who was usually at the receiving hand of this treatment, felt like it was a bit too much.

Margaret went next to the bed and started to take the blankets off. Five years and no one cleaned anything, even when they knew she'd be back.

It took her hours to make the room somewhere decent to sleep, and at that point, she just grumbled on the mattress, too exhausted to get change or to look for a clean blanket.

When morning came, she woke up feeling warmer than she'd expected. A few blankets were now covering her, to her surprise. Most of the dust she didn't take care of last night was gone.

Propping herself on her elbows, she looked around, confused, only to see two young maids cleaning and putting away new dresses in her wardrobe. They were both quiet, and neither seemed to notice her right away.

The princess watched them, focusing on her chores for a moment until one of them turned around.

"Greeting, Your Highness; I apologize if we woke you up." said the young girl, bowing.

As soon as the smallest maid talked, the other turned around, giving an elegant bow. She seemed much more used to court etiquette than the one who spoke.

"Her Majesty sent us to serve you since your old maids were dismissed. She said not to wake you up." added the eldest of the two.

"I see, and what are your names?"

"Mathilda," said the youngest one, still bowing, her hands shaking.

"Mary, Your Highness," answered the taller one.

Mathilda had a delicate frame and brown hair in some bun, a speck of freckles on her cheeks, and green eyes. She couldn't be much more than sixteen. Mary, on the other hand, was the total opposite. Blonde with a more muscular build, curves everywhere it mattered, blue eyes, and tall. She must have been in her late twenties.

"My mother sent you both?"

"Yes, she also asked you to meet her once you woke up," said Mary.