This wasn't how it was meant to be.
It was, she had conceded with a heavy heart, the fault of decades of conflict and suffering. No sooner had the Ogre Wars finished than a disagreement over trade routes had embroiled half the kingdoms in the world in a series of dirty naval battles which had left no winner. Instead, with so many ships destroyed, trade slowed to a trickle - now reliant on old overland routes that had been neglected for decades. Famine followed, a pestilence destroyed almost half that first year's harvest. Thousands died and those who lived were not enough to reap what remained and so much of it wilted in the ground further compounding the shortages. Finally, in a cruel blow, a terrible plague then began to sweep over the land. The disease took no heed of age or station and left every family, rich or poor, affected. Such a terrible trio of curses. Dark magic was suspected by some parts to be the cause, yet no culprit admitted to it.
In the end, almost 15 years of hardship passed and the population of the kingdom dwindled to almost half of what it was. Its neighbours too were stricken- including so many of the royal families that had lost their heirs.
Misthaven was fortunate. Princess Emma had lived. She had made it through a childhood rife with the terrors of pestilence and starvation that she had seen so many of her childhood playmates not reach puberty. The princess had lived to see crops begin to flourish again and the navy of the kingdom rise once more - with new ships painstakingly formed by those remaining craftsmen who began to teach their skills to the young who had been lucky enough to make it. Finally, the kingdom was getting back on its feet with the most imminent threats gone.
Now, as the only heir to the throne, the duty of the princess was to marry and provide continuance for the bloodline of the royal family. Yet, there was a fly in the ointment. There were so few men to whom she could be betrothed. Princes were scarce, dukes hardly less so. All the traditional venues upon which a daughter of a king and queen would find a husband were gone. Balls and tours were still rare affairs, and frankly, her parents were beginning to worry. Almost a half dozen years past the age when marriage would have been acceptable and yet no offers to consider. There just was not the pool of eligible men for her to be exposed to and form an affection for (and hopefully, they prayed, to love).
From her quarters, high up in one of the castle's four turrets, Emma surveyed the kingdom below her. To the west, the port stretched out into the shimmering ocean. There, dozens of ships crammed into the harbour. A sign of the return of prosperity to the kingdom. In the east, the city bled into farmland, all ripe with crop that would be harvested that autumn. Beyond, the woodland from which the kingdom had earned its moniker - 'The Enchanted Forest' - lay, green and lush with the freshness of Spring. It was beautiful.
With a heavy sigh, she laid her hands upon the low wall that encircled her balcony. Her parents had instilled upon her from a young age the importance of her position. She had learned before she could even talk about how critical her role was, to guide and protect the people that relied on them. Every tree, every rock - every patch of soil was a legacy to which, like it or not, she was bonded to by blood. It was great honor, she knew. But sometimes it felt like a millstone around her neck.
Oh how she wished she could talk of their kingdom with the passion that her elders did; how they extolled its many virtues and qualities. She was a good daughter, she would always say the right things, but that did not change the fact that her earliest memories of Misthaven were dark ones. The suffering and death that had marred her formative years were hard to shake. So, even though she knew that her duty lay in her role as princess and future queen, she didn't always feel it in her heart.
They'd raised the subject of her marriage some years earlier. She hadn't been surprised, her parents having been barely older than her when she was born. After delaying the matter as long as she could, she finally acquiesced to her mother's gentle pleas to consider a suitor. Discrete enquiries to the neighboring kingdoms had not led to positive responses. As much as they would wish to unite with Misthaven, they simply did not have any sons of suitable age. Which led the king and queen with only their own subjects to examine. A suitor fit for a princess had to be someone noble (of character, if not birth), one with an education and natural wisdom, someone accomplished in his field of study or toil - one unmarried and of age. Of course, the pool of possible applicants drew smaller and smaller with each consideration until only a handful candidates remained.
The first few passed through the castle and little feeling stirred within the princess. They were solemn, proud men with the posture of those full of their own self-importance. Soldiers. Men of law. Sons of the oldest merchant families. Of course they smiled and said all the right things, but Emma could not, despite her desire to please her family, consider a courtship with any of them.
Emma became listless the more men who were called forth. All perfectly suitable, she knew. But something held her back from giving her mother the indication that she was open to courtship. Yet, she couldn't quite decipher what this was. Indeed, as months passed by - and dinners and dances were held all under the thin veneer of sociability though all knew their true purpose - she became more resigned to passing the decision over to her parents. The would choose the best they could, would they not?
But then there was a final recommendation, a little later than all the others, brought by courier from the naval office. It was for a Lieutenant Killian Jones of Misthaven's Royal Navy- the delay in the letter arising from his being on tour for the past six months. A seasoned seaman after ten years asea, fluent in three languages, a capable horseman and one of the brightest and most promising officers in the service. He was highly recommended by his commanding officers. Emma perused these letters of recommendation, listening to her mother's entreaties to look favorably upon his virtues and consider him (for even she was becoming concerned with her daughter's lack of interest in the men she had so far met).
One week later, an invitation had been extended to him to drink tea with the king and queen. Emma had cast her eyes over him, more than once, trying to ascertain a little of his character or motivations in considering such a thing as an arranged marriage. Sadly, she'd drawn a blank as to this. His expression as guarded as she supposed her own to be. She was, however, struck by how uncommonly handsome he was: with a clear cut jaw and startling blue eyes. But she had never been one to have her head turned by a pretty face, instead she wanted to know what lay beneath the exterior.
Throughout the brief meeting, he had seemed a little shy, fidgeting with the golden cuffs of his stiff, formal jacket and offering only short, polite contributions to the conversation that passed between the family. Emma fidgeted as she watched him. For all his recommendations he appeared to lack the confidence of the potential suitors she had already met, which for such an accomplished man she found strangely beguiling. Despite herself, she found herself becoming curious to know more of this man.
On parting, he had bowed very solemnly and then, most unexpectedly, had taken her hand and pressed a kiss upon it. She'd agreed with her mother when pressed about his suitability. He was a decorated officer, handsome and courteous, her mother had sang, and handsome, she'd added. Emma had nodded, quietly echoing her mother's enthusiasm, her mind awhirl.
/
This wasn't how it was meant to be.
As Lieutenant Killian Jones tugged on his formal blazer, he smoothed down the medals that hung upon them, his fingers lingering over the latest addition. Bravery in the first degree, he knew the engraving said. He felt anything but as he waited for the audience the princess has requested.
A week had passed since he had met the royal family. They drank tea from dainty cups and ate sweet, warm cakes from china plates. He felt out of place, in the fine dining room, in his formal uniform, in the company of such refined manners and impeccable breeding. He may be an officer, but it did not change the fact that he passed much of his time in the company of the coarser parts of society.
When Commander Gibbons had approached him, the officer had been at first confused and then affronted. That his commander would make such a recommendation of him was in parts amusing and absurd. Him, a sailor, a fighter, a wanderer- a man who just days before he dined with royalty was guiding the Jewel through a thick storm, sweat and salt soaked, rope burns to his hands, the scalding of the day's sun still upon his neck . How could he be considered a suitor.
Somehow, the commander had convinced him to consider the idea. Had mentioned that Liam would have been in favour.
Liam.
Even thinking of his brother, ten months after his passing, caught his breath. It was true, after his brother's unexpected death, he had thrown himself even more into his duties. Refusing any leave save the bare minimum. It was as if somehow he could atone for not being able to save him.
Perhaps this was how he could be of use. To serve in an unconventional way, to further the royal lineage. To be a consort, to provide children-
He was getting ahead of himself.
(This wasn't how he had thought it would happen.)
He would serve as the kingdom required.
/
"I received your summons, your Highness."
Emma started at the low tones of the Lieutenant's voice. She rose from where she sat upon a small chaise and turned towards the entrance to the library.
"Lieutenant," she nodded, her eyes flickering over his uniform clad form. Stiffly, he stood by the door, his tricorn hat under his arm, his back straight as a poker and his expression revealing nothing about his emotions. She took a breath. "Perhaps you would like to sit?"
She gestured to the seat beside her.
His lips hesitated into a small smile, before replying, "I prefer to stand, milady."
A small flicker of confusion caused her to furrow her brow as she softly sighed, 'Oh', before she picked up the book she was reading and took it back to the shelf from which she had retrieved it. "My father says your ship is to sail again soon."
"Aye, we must return to Glowerhaven within the week. The Minister of Trade is keen to conclude the negotiations with his counterpart."
"Oh yes, the grain contract."
The leather bound volume in her hands was heavy as she slid it back into the space from whence it came.
"We expect to be gone a month, to return before the seasons begin to change." he added.
Emma slowly turned back to face him, his blue eyes startling bright as they fixed upon her.
She nodded, her chin held high in a sign of all the confidence she did not feel. She hesitated a moment, before taking a few confident strides in his direction. "Well then, lieutenant, I will not press upon your time when you are preparing to sail. Instead, I will ask you the question which caused me to seek your audience."
He raised an eyebrow in question.
"What I wish to know, is… why have you agreed to this?"
His lips parted - clearly her question was unexpected. Perhaps she shouldn't be broaching this subject. But she needed to know his intentions.
"To a courtship?"
Emma nodded. He bunched his fingers more tightly around the rim of his hat. "My dearest wish, is to serve, your highness. The kingdom has done so much for me and given me so much when I deserved nothing."
She'd thought as much. Every word she had seen, written or spoken about this man had been laced with descriptions of his honor and valor.
She has expected his motivations to be as such. At least in that regard they could be matched.
"I understand," she replied, hugging her arms to her waist and offering a wan smile. There was something about him that she couldn't quite place. A feeling in his presence, of hesitance and uncertainty- unlike the others she had met who she could read like one of the books in the very library which she stood.
"May I be so bold as to ask you the same? I am led to believe that honesty is essential in these situations."
Emma's smile stiffened a certainly seemed to be on the same page as her. It didn't need to be explained to him that this was not a matter of love and romance but one of practicality and duty.
"Why - to serve the kingdom," she replied, her smile fixed and small. "I alone can continue the royal line."
The Lieutenant nodded softly. "Aye," he said, "That is an important duty."
His eyes seemed to soften a little. Emma suddenly felt very small, the responsibility she was facing looming ahead like a mountain to climb.
"Yes," she whispered, "Quite."
For a moment, they didn't speak.
"Well your highness, I am needed at the admiralty if you have no more questions?"
"Of course," she nodded, "Please, attend to your duties."
He softly approached, still at a respectable distance, but close enough that the princess could once again appreciate the handsome face she has let her eyes linger on during their first meeting. Yes, she admitted, he was certainly a man who fit all the expectations of a consort. He bowed, offering a quick nod of the head before leaving the room in a blur of blue wool.
/
It was three weeks later when he received the letter. Royal letterhead. Express.
An offer of engagement.