The Castle

  The golden light of the sunset poured in through tall windows in the Prince’s private dining room. His quarters were set in much the same layout as his betroths across the hall but with more masculine touches. The soon-to-be-bride of Prince Beckett, second in line for the crown, sat rigidly in the ornate tall backed chair she had been seated in by a servant. The Prince’s place at the head of the table sat empty and servants were bustling about, finishing preparations for the couple’s dinner together. She was clad in the red gown and many accessories that had been pulled out of drawers from places around her room. Around her neck hung three delicate gold chains of various lengths, creating a layered effect. She had matching gold earrings set with large diamonds that pulled heavily on her earlobes. Her hair had been pinned and twisted onto her head in an elaborate style and her face was painted and powdered to perfection. She had six women fussing over her for nearly two hours and when they were done she hardly recognized herself in the mirror. She thought she truly looked like the bride of a Prince.

  The servants finished setting the food just as the doors to the dining area were thrown open and Prince Beckett strode in, allowing someone to take his fine jacket on his way through the doors. All the servants stopped momentarily and faced the Prince. His bride stood and curtseyed as the staff bowed. The Prince, ignoring the servants who began bustling about again after acknowledging his presence, never took his eyes off the young woman he had chosen earlier that day. She remained standing as he approached, offering a small, shy smile as he made his way across the room. He took her hand, gloved in smooth, white satin, and brought it up to gently press it against his lips. Then he gestured for his bride to sit and she did as she was bid, allowing him to push in her chair closer to the table. She couldn’t help the blush that crept to her cheeks throughout the exchange.

  A servant stood behind the Prince’s own chair at the head of the table and pulled it out in similar fashion as he turned to seat himself. As soon as he was seated they were swarmed with servants piling their plates high with steaming food of all kinds: Meat braised in a fragrant, dark broth, an assortment of roasted summer vegetables, steamed beans of many colors, spiced, mashed turnips, lushious gravy and buttery bread, and many things the young woman didn’t immediately recognize. Their goblets were filled with a sweet smelling mead and a pitcher of water with various fruits floating in it was left sitting between them. Then, after everything was exactly in place, the servants quietly filed out to the last, closing the door behind them with a soft click and the couple was left in silence.

  The prince smiled kindly at his chosen bride and nodded to her plate while picking up his own utensils. She moved to do the same, following his lead just as she was taught. She kept her back straight as she leaned forward just slightly to cut off a small piece of tender meat and gingerly place it in her mouth. She almost gasped in surprise with how flavorful it was. The Prince dug into his own plate, though masterfully utilizing his utensils and keeping his back straight, just as she had been taught. She admired his proper table manners for a moment before focusing on her food again. She would taste everything on her plate but that was it. She would let him lead the conversation but speak no further than what was required. Her mind raced through all the lessons she had been taught while she slowly cut tiny pieces of food, brought them to her mouth, chewed thoroughly and repeated.

  After a few minutes, the prince placed his utensils to the side and leaned back in his chair to observe her. She too, following suit, set down her utensils and turned her attention to him, smiling invitingly.

  “My lady,” He addressed, “Thank you for honoring me by sharing this first meal together. I assume you know what my choosing you today means?”

  “Yes, my lord,” She answered in a quiet but clear voice. “We are to be wed.”

  The Prince nodded in confirmation. “Yes, but not just wed, you will be my chosen wife. Do you know what makes that different from being just a wife?”

  “Yes, my prince,” She responded, “It means I shall remain by your side in all official court appearances. I will also primarily bear your children, at least for the first two years, at which point you may bear offspring with other wives of your choosing. I will also tend to you as you see fit.”

  “Yes,” The Prince agreed, “But there is more to it that just that. You will have duties to the people of our nation alongside me. Our children will be in line for the Throne after my brother’s offspring and have a very real chance of ruling our Kingdom someday. You will oversee them and make sure they are ready for their role in this. You will learn the ways of being a member of the ruling family.”

  She nodded at the end of his explanation, a serious look now on her face. She knew all of this. Had been trained for it everyday since childhood. They all had been. But she had been chosen. She wouldn’t take her role lightly.

  “Good,” Prince Beckett said, sighing in relief, “Very good. I’m glad you understand how seriously I took making a decision today. You and the women had been chosen through very careful consideration. My father is pleased and approves of both mine and Tregan’s decisions today. He has already given his blessing for our wedding and the preparation has begun. It will take place in a few days' time, the day after Tregan is wed to his chosen bride. In that time you will be fitted for a wedding dress and shown what will be expected of you during the ceremony. You will work with my mother to prepare.”

  Again, she nodded, though the last part surprised her. She knew that Prince Beckett’s mother was not the chosen bride of The King. She was a lesser royal wife that was rarely seen. The chosen wives had duties in the city, amongst the people but the lesser wives were typically confined to the castle, duties reserved strictly to serving The King when his chosen wife had other duties to attend to. Not that any of them would be distinctly recognizable in their tan robes. When out in the city the chosen wives were permitted to wear robes of pure white to designate their position. But back in the castle, next to the King, the tan robes were once again donned. A son of a lesser wife would not normally ascend to being in line for the throne but The King’s chosen wife had only bore three children in her time being wed to him. Tregan, being the only boy of the three, wasn’t a strong enough line for the throne so the King sought out his other two wives to produce a male heir. The first two attempts resulted in a girl from each lesser wife and then, finally, Beckett was born two years later. Due to this Tregan is seven years Beckett’s senior.

  “My mother will guide you through all the basics of what it is like to be a part of this family and what the roles will be,” he explained while moving to begin eating once again. “Tregan’s chosen wife will mirror his mother’s, basically following her lead until either The King or Queen die and then she will move up into the main royal role of Queen, possibly before Tregan takes the throne if the Queen dies first. She will serve both the King and Tregan’s needs in that instance.”

  He began eating again and she followed his lead, taking more tiny bites of food. They ate in silence, both thinking over all that had been discussed so far. She moved to drink a small sip of mead and was surprised by how sweet it was. She had never tasted food and drink so flavorful in her entire life and had to fight off the moans that threatened to escape throughout the meal. It had taken considerable restraint to only taste each item offered to her and not immediately clear her plate. She stared for a moment too long a chocolate tart in the middle of the table that had yet to be touched before turning back to the Prince, pretending she was full and finished with the meal. She was startled to find he had paused in his eating and was watching her. When her eyes met his he smirked, glancing toward the tart she had been looking at.

  He stood, moving around to the side of the table across from her and reached for the tart. She frowned slightly, fighting the urge to squirm in her chair nervously. She hadn’t meant for him to notice her looking at the tart. He took a knife and cut into it, severing a large chunk and plopping it onto a gold plate molded to look like a flower. He moved around the table and set it in front of her before moving back to cut himself a similar slice. After he sat back down he gestured toward her plate, a mischievous smile on his face.

  “Eat,” He said, pointing to the tart he set in front of her. “I command it.”

  Relief washed through her as color flooded her cheeks once more. She offered him a genuine smile in return and took a tiny scoop of the tart. She brought it to her lips, pausing to savor the decadent smell before placing it in her mouth. Internally she sighed in satisfaction, the taste was even better than she had imagined. It was slightly nutty and spiced delicately to compliment the creamy flavor of the chocolate. It was like silk on her tongue as she swallowed. She set her utensils down, done with her meal. She wanted the taste of the tart to last on her tongue as long as possible.

  “Good?” He asked, a knowing smirk still on his lips.

  “Yes, my lord,” She said reservedly.

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  Prince Beckett frowned at her, pushing his finished plate away and taking off the napkin he had stuck into the collar of his white button up shirt.

  “You can call me Beck,” He said, smirk now gone, replaced by the most serious expression she’d seen him wear yet. “When we’re alone please just call me Beck. Save the formalities for our public appearances, please.”

  She hesitated, not sure how to respond to this. She had been taught only to refer to anyone in the royal house, or the heads of any house for that matter, by their formal title. But she had also been taught to serve her husband’s every need, above all else. So, after just a moment’s hesitation, she nodded in confirmation.

  “Now that I think of it,” The Prince said, turning his body toward her in his chair, posture more relaxed and casual. “What should I call you?”

  She was more prepared for this question, as it was customary to establish a name with her husband upon their meeting.

  “You can call me whatever you please,” She said, keeping her chin high as she stared into his midnight blue eyes. She couldn’t help but appreciate his exceptionally good looks. His features were symmetrical, eyes framed with full, dark lashes. His skin was olive in shade and a small smattering of freckles covered the bridge of his nose. He had full lips and thick, but not bushy eyebrows. His hair was wavy and pushed intentionally to the right side of his face, giving him a boyish look but not immature. His high cheekbones and structure jawline, speckled with the hint of stubble, spoke to his maturity. Though, in her opinion, his most attractive feature was his easy smile, white teeth gleaming perfectly in a line. She couldn’t help feeling self conscious of her own smile in comparison, while mostly straight, didn’t compare to the outright beauty of his. Though, she reminded herself, soon he’d be the only one to see her mouth at all. And he chose her, she remembered, so it was obviously a non-issue.

  The Prince watched her as she studied his face and he took the time to do the same, smile growing all the while.

  “Don’t you have something that they used to call you where you came from?” He questioned. “I know that you don’t take an official name until your husband gives you one but I’m curious what you meant by before. They couldn’t have just called you ‘girl.’”

  “Sometimes girl would suffice,” She said. “Other times I would be addressed by identification number, ‘XR7054.” She paused, hesitating for moment. “Though… Sometimes some of the other girls would call me Xer, off of my identification letters, XR.”

  “Xer,” Prince Beckett said with a frown. “It doesn’t really seem to fit someone as beautiful as you.”

  He sat back in his chair, propped his fist under his chin on the arm and stared at her. She was reeling from his compliment and stare so she barely heard when he quietly offered a suggestion. She blinked as his expression changed to a questioning one.

  “I’m sorry, my l- I mean Beck,” She corrected quickly, blush deepening. “Did you say something?”

  “I said, how about Xena?” He repeated, eyebrows raised in question.

  She nodded instantly, accepting the name he had chosen. “Whatever you wish, my Beck.”

  He smiled widely and laughed at her title for him. “I know I said only call me Beck but something about you saying ‘my Beck’ sends my heart soaring. So maybe add that to the list of things to call me when we’re alone. Xena.”

  He added her new name as an afterthought and she smiled. “I’m glad it pleases you, my Beck.”

  –????????–

  Prince Beck had escorted her back across the hall to her quarters shortly after their conversation. The servants were waiting in his receiving room and opened the doors for them and then did so for Xena’s doors as well. Once inside, he lingered there for a moment. Xena turned to her and curtseyed, thanking him for the evening meal. He just smiled, not answering her. Instead, hesitating for just a moment, he closed the distance between them. He took her hand, pulling her in close to him. She let him, breath hitching in her throat as she stood absolutely still. He put his hand on her waist, gently pulling her body up against his before he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to her cheek, right next to her mouth. She didn’t dare breathe as he lingered there a few seconds and then pulled away to look into her eyes. He was smiling mischievously again before pulling away without a word and striding back out into the hall, doors pulled closed after his departure.

  Xena went into the bedchamber and closed the door to the receiving hall, immediately falling onto her back on the bed. She stared up at the ceiling an ecstatic smile spread across her face. She couldn’t stop smiling, thinking of her betroths lips on her face just moments before. She didn’t have much time to think on it, however, as the doors to the bedchamber were thrown open once again and Remy strode in, a big fluffy white towel in her arms.

  “I heard that Prince Beckett has officially named you,” she said, moving to the side of the bed. “It’s nice to meet you, My lady Xena.”

  Xena sat up, nearly wincing at the effort it took to do so in the tight corset and managed a nod in acknowledgement. Remy took her arm firmly and pulled her to her feet. She begin pulled her toward the open doors.

  “It’s time for a bath,” She said, nearly dragging Xena there. “I know night has nearly descended but your duties are not done. Your first meeting with Prince Beckett’s mother, Princess Ryna, will be tonight. She is due to arrive in your quarters shortly.”

  Hearing that news spurred Xena into action. She hurried into the bathing room after Remy, allowing her to strip her of her dress and undergarments, a rather extensive task seeing that she had nearly four extremely tight layers on. The bath had already been drawn and Xena smelled scented oils wafting out of the warm water, smelling of roses and citrus. When she was finally completely naked she got into the bath, Remy moving to scrub her hair and back. Xena tried to scrub her own legs and arms but Remy slapped her hands, telling her it was her job to do these things and she’d been get used to it. Xena wanted to put up a fight but sighed, withdrawn to being washed. When Remy was satisfied not a speck of dirt or makeup remained, she had Xena step out of the tub and wrapped her in the big fluffy towel she had been carrying.

  They made their way back to the bedchamber. When they entered through the doors both women stopped in their tracks. Standing with her back toward them, looking into the dining area, was a woman clad in tan robes. She turned toward them when she heard them enter, familiar midnight blue eyes staring out from the slit in her mask. Her eyes crinkled in what Xena assumed to be a smile but she didn’t return it as she curtsied low, mirrored by Remy’s deep bow.

  “My Princess,” Remy said. “My apologies. I meant to have Lady Xena ready by the time of your arrival. Her dinner ran a little late with Prince Beckett.”

  “Oh, I know,” Princess Ryna said, moving closer to the two women before her. “I came early on purpose.”

  She strode past the women, moving to close the double doors to the bedchamber behind them where servants stood by the main doors, as always. She shut them firmly and walked to the bed, sitting on the edge and crossing her legs. Xena remained standing there stiffly, dripping bath water onto the fine carpet but not daring to move until instructed. Remy seemed inclined to do the same. The Princess regarded them for a moment before gesturing to Xena, sweeping a white gloved hand toward her.

  “Drop your towel,” She instructed casually.

  Xena, though surprised, immediately did as she was told, arms going to her sides rather than her instinctual urge to cover herself. Princess Ryna looked her up and down slowly before saying, “turn” and motioning with her hand for Xena to turn around. She did as she was bid once again, waiting as the Princess observed all her assets.

  “Face me again,” Princess Ryna instructed. When Xena did, she found the princess no longer sitting but moving to stand close to her. The Princess reached up and gently weighed each of Xena’s moderate breasts with each hand, nodding in approval. “You’re body is optimal for bearing children. Full breasts and wide hips. Well proportioned. My son chose well and I think he will be pleased to see you presented in his bedchamber.”

  Xena didn’t respond, cheek flooding with color. Princess Ryna moved to the closet and selected a long satin robe. She moved behind Xena, holding the robe up and slid it onto her shoulders. Xena didn’t hesitate to stick her arms through the sleeves and tie the front, happy to finally be clothed. While not as bad as the auction, it still left her feeling odd to be exposed to people for judgement like that.

  “I ran into my son on my way here and he informed me he gave you an official name,” Princess Ryna said, gaing into Xena’s eyes.

  “Yes, my Princess,” she responded. “He named me Xena.”

  “He told me that it is a combination of the letters of your identification number and my own name,” Princess Ryna said. “Did he tell you that?”

  Xena shook her head.

  Princess Ryna’s eyes crinkled in smile again and she reached out to take Xena’s hand, turning to lead her into the dining room.

  “Thank you for your services, Remy,” Princess Ryna said. “But I need to begin my private lessons with Lady Xena now.”

  She led Xena into the dining chamber, already lit with candles and closed the door behind them. Xena looked around, observing the room and comparing it in the dark of night to the brightness of the morning sun streaming through the huge windows, as she had seen it earlier that day. It was cozy, the candles casting flickering shadows around the room. The stained glass window, now less visible, glowed differently in the light of candles than backlit by the sun. The room wasn’t any less beautiful at night. If anything, it held a different sort of charm that made Xena want to curl up in the corner with a book even more.

  As if reading her thoughts, Princess Ryna led them over to the small sofa by the bookcases. She sat down and patted the cushion next to her for Xena to do the same. She did as she were bid, turning slightly in her seat to look at the Princess.

  “I’m here to tell you all that will be expected of you in your position, in great detail. There is much to learn in very little time,” She explained, pulling a small book off the nearby shelf. On the small table in front of the sofa, a small bottle of ink and writing feather had been set. The Princess opened the small book to reveal a blank page. She spread it out before Xena and reached down to hand her the feather. “Take notes so that you may study over meals. Let us begin while the night is still young.”

  –????????–