It was indeed a grand feast. The fatted calves had been slaughtered; plates of food covered every table surface; and barrels – not just jugs – of wine had been brought out. Musicians played merry tunes as Lords and Ladies mingled about, dancing and chatting away. The grand hall itself seemed brighter and cheerier, with vibrant tapestries and flags hanging on the walls.
In contrast to the joyous atmosphere however, was a boy brooding in the corner, wishing to just be left alone, and if he was lucky, forgotten.
It may have been a strange wish – wanting to become so insignificant, the world would forget him, but people tended to desire things that weren't theirs – that would never be theirs.
If the boy's wish did come true, he would be free to do as he pleased, without a care in the world. There would be no expectations, no responsibilities, no decisions forced upon him. He might even have had a childhood.
Growing up, he had been frequently told of how fortunate he was, to live in such luxury, to one day become King. And his response to that had always been gracious. But beneath that façade of confidence and poise, a seed of unhappiness had begun to grow in him. He had spent his entire life doing what was expected of him. He lived and breathed for the people of Caerleon, and, though he would never admit it, for his parents' approval.
So, as he had done so many times before, he would do as his parent's wished. He would do what they thought was best for the kingdom. And whatever grievance he had would remain unspoken, unknown his parents or his subjects.
He forced a smile, as a beautiful young girl was escorted up and introduced to him. She had long whitish blonde hair, ice blue eyes, and she wore a pale pink gown. He tried to be cordial as they made small talk, but the moment she left, his smile vanished and he took in breath of both exhaustion and relief. His eyes never left her form, however, and he watched her every move resentfully, magnifying her every flaw in his mind's eye.
He finally shifted his attention when his peripheral vision caught sight of a tall, red haired figure coming his way. Sure enough, his cousin was headed towards him. He groaned inwardly; while he knew his cousin did mean well, the young prince was not in the mood to be lectured. Again.
"You know Fendrel, a feast is supposed to be a happy occasion," Hagen addressed his cousin light-heartedly as he took a seat beside him.
"I just feel a little under the weather today," Fendrel lied smoothly.
"We both know that is untrue…" Seeing Fendrel about to refute him, Hagen continued, "While they may not show it openly, your parents do worry about you. They would not like to see you like this."
For a moment Fendrel felt his chest tightening. Had his dad noticed? Had he disgraced him? Wait…
"My parents asked you to check up on me?" He asked, disbelief and… hope replacing his initial worry.
No sooner had the words left his mouth was that notion quashed, as he watched his cousin fumble about, thinking of a way to get around the question.
"I came… Umm… So…" Hagen sighed as he switched his tactic, deciding to tell Fendrel the truth, "Your parents are busy people. They have a kingdom to run. You know how that is – things just slip their notice at times, no matter how important."
"Even their son," Fendrel said.
This time, his voice held no bitterness. He said it with such certainty. Almost indifferently. Like he was stating a mere fact. Hagen could not bear to carry on with the subject, and tore his gaze from his cousin.
Clearing his throat, he said, "I was given instructions to inform you of the meeting in the throne room to discuss the details of… your betrothal… after this… I'm sorry Fendrel."
Fendrel nodded.
As Hagen took his leave, Fendrel called out to him, "You were not being insensitive... It is I who ought to apologise. For yesterday. I should not have spoken to you that way."
Hagen smiled, "All is forgotten."
So far, Arya was quite pleased with herself. She had done everything she was supposed to do, and she carried herself rather well, if she could say so herself. In fact, Lady Errin would probably be proud of her performance. She also enjoyed herself very much. Never had she tasted such sumptuous food! And everyone was so nice! In spite of their stern appearance, King Caerleon and Queen Annis were very pleasant. They had each checked up on her twice to ensure she was enjoying herself. Their niece – Gyda was it? – was a little arrogant for her liking however, treating the servants as if they were stupid. She was also incredibly nosey. As she conversed with Gyda, Arya felt as if she were being questioned about a crime she had committed. Thankfully Gyda's elder brother had interrupted before Gyda stumbled upon anything to cause concern.
Now Hagen, she liked a lot. He was so different from his little sister – he was thoughtful and understanding, and he didn't push for information. He even helped her out quite a bit, reminding her of the names of people she had forgotten, pointing out the important people she ought to take note of, and giving her other useful advice.
Another person who left an impression on her was the prince. Prince Fendrel was a mystery to her. While he was kind and polite the whole time they were together, she got the strange feeling her presence wasn't really welcome.
With that in mind, Arya turned towards the throne room hesitantly, hoping that her second encounter with the prince would be less uncomfortable.
The throne room was another impressive part of the castle. While much smaller, and more simply furnished than the grand hall had been, it was no less majestic. Wooden panels lined the bottom half of the walls and painted brick and plaster decorated the upper parts. Blue flags bearing the kingdom's crest hung above two magnificent thrones overlaid with silver.
Prince Fendrel sat to the right of the thrones wearing an expressionless mask, nodding wordlessly to his father, who sat on the throne beside him. Lady Errin was already there, standing to the side with the King's advisers smiling sagely. It was Queen Annis who noticed Arya's presence and gestured for her to join them.
Arya walked in their direction and was about to greet them, but then felt Lady Errin's stare boring into her back. She immediately stopped and lowered herself, bowing her head in respect.
After she was allowed to rise, King Caerleon spoke to her kindly as he took a scroll from a messenger, "We are glad to have you with us Princess Arya. Your parents and I have finalised the details of your betrothal." King Caerleon gestured to the scroll.
What happened after that was a bit of a blur to Arya. All she understood was that they seemed to be discussing a sort of ceremony she was to be a part of. It didn't seem very interesting either; it was just another list of things she had to do while in Caerleon. Her mind had begun to wonder off when the discussion of when the ceremony was to be held brought her crashing back down to reality.
"Having it on the day of the second full moon from tonight would give everyone ample time to respond and make the necessary arrangements to travel here." One of the kings' advisers said, as everyone nodded in agreement.
Arya was aghast. The second full moon? There had to be a mistake! She wouldn't be here that long would she?
Arya looked around anxiously for Lady Errin, and to her horror, found her giving her consent as well. Arya expertly concealed whatever turmoil she had building up in her, and continued with the meeting, this time paying much closer attention to the details.
It was dark by the time everything had ended, and Arya was grateful to finally be left on her own to do as she pleased. She had been on her way back to her room when she literally ran into someone.
Catching herself just before she could fall, she turned to see whom she had bumped into. Arya felt her stomach lurch, for, sprawled on the floor before her was none other than the prince himself!
"I am so sorry!" she gasped as she went to help the prince to his feet.
Narrowing his eyes, Prince Fendrel roughly pulled away from her and got up on his own.
"I did apologise! There is no need to be rude!" Arya blurted out.
Seeing Prince Fendrel's frown deepen, Arya realised her mistake, and immediately apologised again. However, without even looking at her, he simply waved her off and began to walk away.
This was getting a bit much for Arya, and before she could stop herself she found herself calling out to him.
"I know you don't want me here. I don't know what I did to offend you but I am sorry for whatever it is. It seems I will be here for a while longer, and I do hope we can be friends…"
Arya jumped a little when Prince Fendrel turned back abruptly and stormed towards her, his face completely expressionless.
With his face dangerously close to hers, he spoke slowly, his words laced with loathing, "Do not expect anything from me. I have no obligation to you yet. Even if we are to be betrothed, it does not mean I have to like you. Our marriage is merely a means to an end. For the union of our kingdoms. That is it."
Before Arya could fully process his words, he walked off, leaving her in a stunned silence.
Arya's mind was in a whirl. What marriage? It couldn't be hers. Lady Errin wouldn't do that to her. Was that what that ceremony was about? Then it hit her - Lady Errin's strange behaviour the upon arriving in the castle, and her ambiguous responses whenever Arya asked about the duration of their stay.
Arya sucked in breath to calm herself down. This had to just be some misunderstanding, she told herself, as she continued on towards her room, quickening her pace.
She thought she heard a concerned voice called out to her somewhere from behind. For a brief moment she thought it was Prince Fendrel, coming to apologise to her, and to tell her he had been joking. She realised how silly the thought was and dismissed it.
Several corridors later, she finally reached her room.
"Great, you are back," came Lady Errin's greeting, as soon as Arya opened the door, "You have very busy day tomorr– "
"Prince Fendrel says we are to be married," Arya interrupted, "Tell me that isn't true."
Lady Errin froze. As if playing for time, she readjusted her skirt and sighed.
"That's what a betrothal is for Arya" Lady Errin replied evenly, answering Arya truthfully for the first time. There was no more need to lie to the child. Not at this stage.
"Then how am I to get home?" Arya asked, refusing to believe where she knew this conversation was going.
"This is your new home."
Although she had expected it, somewhere in the back of her mind she had an inkling of what her fate would be, grief struck her.
"No," She whispered in a daze, her distress causing her to zone in and out of reality. "No… You have to take me home. You have to turn me back. You don't even have to pay me anymore. Just change me back to how I was. Just bring me home… Please"
Arya now had tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. She didn't even have the strength to try and stop it, her head was pounding so hard, and she couldn't breathe.
"I can't do that. You see, Caerleon is expecting the princess of Etaydus to marry their prince." Lady Errin replied indifferently.
"But I am not the princess!" Arya almost shrieked, as Lady Errin rushed over to clamp her mouth shut.
"Do you have a death wish?" Lady Errin chided, pulling Arya towards the other end of the room, "If anyone finds out, you and I are both dead."
"Where is the real Princess Arya? Can't she do this instead? You can get her can't you?" Arya asked anxiously.
Lady Errin's jaw tightened slightly, "The real Princess Arya is dead."
"Then get somebody else!" Arya's desperation was reaching its peak, "You cannot force me to stay like this! I–l'll tell someone! l'll tell the King what you've planned!"
Lady Errin laughed, "So, you will tell the king that you are actually a filthy commoner, whose appearance I have changed into that of the princess'? Do you honestly expect anyone to believe you? And even if they do… You have been my accomplice for the past several days; you too will be charged for treason; and do you know what the punishment for treason is? Death."
"If you know what is best for you, if you value your life, you will continue to play the role of Princess Arya, even if you have to do so for the rest of your life."
Arya sunk to ground. Her legs were shaking so badly they could not support her.
"You can't be so cruel…" she murmured.
Lady Errin scoffed, "Cruel? You were a good-for-nothing street rat! I gave you a purpose! I turned you into royalty! You were impoverished and starving! I have given you all the wealth you could ever want! You ought to be grateful!"
"No! You tricked me! You are a wicked, uncaring, black-hearted woman! You will get your just deserts! I hope you go to hell! You don't deserve to live!" Arya yelled, her anger, her hurt and her shock fuelling her final outburst. Arya lost her grip on reality one last time and zoned out again, feeling a wave of energy surge through her.
Sorry I took a little longer with this chapter... Hope you liked it though :)
Anyway, I've made a minor change to the cast list. Don't worry, everyone whom I have selected are still inside, I've just accepted a last minute submission from Cheshire's red eye, Amos Falcey. So I'm replacing Philip, the character I made, to Amos. He's also a teleporter, and basically plays the same role, so there's no need to reread the first chapter (though I did make some other small alterations to the first chapter - editting my word choice, grammar and such). I just wanted to notify you guys in case you end up wondering where the heck Amos came from and what happened to Philip :P