Chapter 2: Humiliation

Cristo walked a quickened pace, anxious to get to the Zenithian Temple. He had just received word that Princess Alena was taken there, apparently lightly injured. He did not have all of the details but from what Brey had told him, the Princess threw a major tantrum a few hours earlier and had broken the wall of the study room in the process.

Cristo silently cursed himself for not being there to stop her before she did anything rash. As her bodyguard, it was his duty to prevent any form of injury to the Princess, not Brey's.

Finally, he arrived at the temple. As most Zenithian Temple's went, this one was not very big, perhaps just large enough to hold three dozen people at one time. The main temple in this region was actually located in Surene, a major city relatively close to the castle where trade was centered. Most followers of the religion would migrate there for their daily prayers. However, some of the followers included guardsmen of the castle, who could not leave Santeem Castle at any point. The tiny temple was built as compensation, the past rulers of Santeem realizing how important the religion was to some.

Being such a small temple, there were very few priests and clerics and Cristo had decided to put his faith to a more practical use than the average devotee. His studies had brought him close to the ranking of a cleric - he even learned some of his first healing magic recently - but the bodyguard was still a few more years of study away before he would be officially accepted into the clergy.

Cristo walked down the small temple, his strides taking him to the main altar within seconds. "Father Garrett?" he called out, seeing no one at the study altar.

"Over here, Brother Cristo," came a faint voice from one of the tiny dorms situated on the sides of the temple. Cristo headed over to the dorm and peered inside. The priest was sitting in a chair beside a bed. On the bed, Cristo saw a young woman lying on her side, her back to the door. Just from her stiff posture Cristo could tell it was Princess Alena.

"How is she?" Cristo asked the priest without looking, his eyes fixed on the princess. Aside from ruffled hair and creases in her dress, she did not appear to have any marks of injuries from this angle.

"Just fine," replied the priest, his voice somewhat emotionless. "A couple of bruises, nothing more." Cristo looked at Garrett for a moment, sensing that all was not as it seemed due to his tone of voice. The bodyguard decided to push a little further.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking at Garrett. "You sound as if she's ill or something."

"Am I that apparent?" the priest said, weakly smiling. Cristo looked at him for long moments, urging him to continue. Garrett sighed and quietly said, "Don't worry. It's not her but something else that is troubling me." He stood up and headed out of the dorm. Noticing Cristo's worried gaze, he added, "Don't trouble yourself with me, Brother Cristo. I'll let you know of it at another time. Right now you have more pressing matters at hand." Cristo nodded and Garrett left the dorm.

Once Garrett had left, Cristo sat down in the chair beside the bed and looked over the Princess. Judging from her breathing, the bodyguard guessed Alena was not asleep, just pretending. Well, someone was going to have to break the silence. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Alena did not respond for a few seconds and Cristo wondered if she was going to pout all day long. However, without turning, she eventually replied, "Fine, I guess."

Cristo continued to look at her, wondering what was going through the princess' mind. "Do you require any healing?" he asked, the 'Heal' spell he had recently learned to cast already coming to his mind. A muffled "no" was his reply.

He sat still for long moments, slightly fidgeting his feet. There was so much he wanted to say but he did not feel any of it was appropriate for this delicate moment. Instead he repeated, "Are you positive that you don't require any healing?"

At that, Alena turned around, a frown forming on her delicate face. Cristo swallowed nervously, expecting a harsh rebuttal. "Cristo," she said in an emotionless tone, "you've been looking after me for the last eight years. I think I can handle a couple of bruises on my own by now." She then turned back around.

Cristo swallowed again, a bit hurt by her statement.

Still, despite her harsh tone, Alena did appreciate Cristo's company, even if she would not admit it. His close company with her over the years as her personal bodyguard had developed into a brother-sister relationship. They would often bicker between each other but the wounds would heal the next day. However, Cristo was reluctantly learning that Alena was growing older, and developing into an independent person.

The silence was starting to disturb Cristo and he had to hurry up as their presence was requested in the castle's audience hall. "Princess," he began slowly, "your tutor, Brey, told me you were planning on leaving the castle by yourself."

Alena slightly turned her head, but kept her back to her bodyguard. "What if I was?" she muttered.

"Alena," he replied, dropping her formal address, "that's so reckless!" Alena fully turned around, the right side of her lips raised in mock. Cristo did not appreciate it whenever Alena did not take him seriously and his voice started to rise. "What if something happened to you?" he said, his brow furrowing. "I would-"

His voice trailed off, suddenly realizing what he was about to say. No, he thought disapprovingly. It isn't right for me to feel that way. I'm not supposed to feel that way. I am nothing more than her bodyguard. Just a bodyguard for the Princess of Santeem.

"You would what?" Alena suddenly snapped, interrupting Cristo's thoughts.

Cristo looked at the princess again, his eyes mellowing. "I meant...the King would be devastated," he replied softly.

"Well, thank you for the information," Alena said, sarcasm dripping with her words. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone for awhile." She then turned back in the bed.

Cristo looked at her for long moments, not knowing what to say that might comfort her tormented mind. Perhaps there was nothing he could say and any emotional preparation would only be futile.

He stood up and slowly walked over to the door. He stopped just short of it and turned his head back to Alena. "Princess," he gently said, "I'm here to escort you to the audience hall. Your father has summoned you."

Alena stood tentatively at the entrance of the massive audience hall of Santeem Castle.

Light filtered in through several glass-stained windows, each ornamented to represent her ancestors. Giant pillars lined the hall and a red carpet covered the middle of the stone floor. Aside from the few peasants scuttled within the shadows, obviously awed by the magnificence of their surroundings, the only other people in the audience hall were a few nobles and lords conversing with one another. They did not seem to pay any heed to the princess' presence, obviously too busy bragging about some wealthy deed they recently performed for no one's sake except their own. This suited her fine, however, as Alena was always disgusted whenever one would try to start a conversation with her in that manner. The aristocrats of Santeem were usually very boring in her eyes and she knew they were just trying to grab her attention so they might become a possible husband for the sole heir to the Santeem throne. Alena was smarter than that, though, and would usually make one of the nobles or lords flush in embarrassment with a callous remark.

The princess' eyes followed the luxurious, red carpet to the opposite end of the audience hall. It was not more than fifty feet across but, to Alena, it seemed to be half a world away. Resting on the edge of the red carpet sat two ornamented thrones, each bearing the Santeem crest: a jeweled scimitar on one side and a phoenix on the other. Sitting in the left throne was her father. On his right, Paul, her father's advisor, seemed to be conversing with him.

The throne on the left of him was empty, as only two people would ever be allowed to sit in it: the Queen of Santeem or, as the case was at present, the current heir to the Santeem crown. Since Alena's mother had died from a sickness when Alena was only six, the princess had been forced to sit in the left throne for any major ceremonial meetings, usually whenever the royal families from Bonmalmo, Endor, Branca, and Keeleon would visit Santeem on business.

She had not noticed it at first but Alena quickly realized her father had been looking at her since the moment she had entered the audience hall. She swallowed and looked back. Cristo was standing there, keeping a reassuring look on his face, as if to tell her everything would be all right. She smiled weakly, grateful for the compassion her friend showed her despite the fact it would probably do little good. The bodyguard nodded once, urging her forward. Still smiling weakly, Alena smoothed out the last of the creases in her dress, lightly fixed her hair so it was presentable, and hesitantly stepped forward.

The walk across the hall seemed to take forever. No matter how many steps she took, Alena felt she never gained any distance to her father's throne. Yet, whenever she looked back, her bodyguard seemed further and further away. She glanced around the massive hall and noticed the nobles and lords were discreetly looking at her, apparently snickering for some reason. Alena's mind started to fill with humiliation, which in turn became anger at her father for making her go through this.

As she drew closer, Alena noticed Brey huddled in the shadows to the far left of the hall, near the antechamber that led to the royal chambers. Her tutor seemed to have a guilty look in his squinty eyes, his head lowered in shame. From what she knew, Brey had informed her father about her spontaneous plan to leave the castle. Was he ashamed of his course of action?

Alena did not have much time to ponder it as she eventually found herself in front of her father, the King of Santeem. Paul stepped away, allowing Alena's father to view his daughter without any physical distractions. Alena met her eyes with her father's, hoping to see some sort of compassion within his imposing posture. She saw none, as his eyes were as cold as ice, penetrating through her being like a frozen dagger. His face was disapproving, a frown leaking through his thick, brown beard.

He began to rub a hand over his beard, never releasing his steel gaze over his daughter. Alena started to fidget, uncomfortable with being the center of attention like this. If her father was going to punish her, at least he should have the decency to be quick with it, not prolong her humiliation.

Unless...

It suddenly dawned upon her. She glanced over her shoulder quickly, as not to make her father angrier. Sure enough, Alena saw the nobles, lords, even guardsmen and peasants, lightly snickering. Her mind began to fill with anger and her brow furrowed a bit. It was his plan from the beginning to do this. He wanted to prolong her humiliation for as long as possible, just to teach her some sort of lesson. Well, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of a victory this easy. Alena decided she would break the silence, even if it meant that she would lose face.

The princess turned her eyes back to her father, whose stern face had not yet changed. Alena took a breath to calm her anger, then said in an even tone, "Well, I'm here, Father. At your request." The princess gave a tiny curtsy, just to show she still had some lady-like qualities in her.

"Yes," the king replied in an even tone as well, "I am glad that you have arrived, my daughter." He kept his gaze on her but Alena noticed his eyes were no longer ice cold; maybe emotionless or even tired.

He looked at Paul for a moment whom nodded at the king. Alena noticed and was confused. Was Paul giving advice to her father on how to discipline his child? It made a bit of sense as Paul was a family man himself. However, he only had a pair of sons. What would he know of disciplining a daughter?

"Alena," the king finally said, dropping any formal address, "your tutor informed me you were planning on leaving the castle unattended. Is this true?"

"Yes," she quietly replied, her head bowed low.

"And am I to believe you were leaving with the intentions of testing your strength and will against the outside world?" he asked.

Alena looked at her father, a little stunned. How exactly did he find out about her real intentions for leaving the castle? As far as she knew, those thoughts had remained in her head, unless she had spoken them out loud at one point. Had she done that in the study? Had she been in such a daze she did not even know when she was speaking out loud? If that was the case, and Brey overheard her…

A terrible thought entered her mind, her eyes widening in horror as she nearly gasped in a panic. Her mouth stuttered for a second in a vain effort to organize her defense. "There were…there were….circumstances, father!" she cried, horror filling her heart.

"These are not of the issue!" her father replied sternly, glaring at his daughter. Alena flinched at his sudden outburst but managed to keep her stance, afraid to appear weak in front of so many people.

The King of Santeem looked at her for a moment, then slowly relaxed back in his throne. "Your actions earlier today prove the potential for you undertaking such a journey is a reality." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "I forbid it! You are the Princess of this country and I cannot have you roaming the lands where danger lurks."

"Father-" Alena began but was immediately cut off.

"Silence!" the king nearly shouted, his face flushing into a dark red. "You are to be kept under surveillance by at least one guardsman at all times! You are never to leave this castle, even for diplomatic trips!" He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Do I make myself clear?"

Alena painfully tried to swallow her suffering, tears welling up in her eyes. Never had she known her father to be this vehemently angry with her. Such an outburst could only wreak havoc on her emotions. Her eyes lowered. "Yes," she muttered, her voice cracking.

The king leaned back, though his posture was still stiff and rigid. "Brey," he called over to where the old tutor was standing. He hobbled over, his oak walking staff clacking on the stone floor. "Escort the Princess to her room."

"Yes, your Highness," he said, and motioned for Alena to follow him.

The princess did not even glance up, knowing exactly where she was to go and wishing the audience hall not to see the few tears running down her cheeks.