Chapter Text
You sighed as you looked at your reflection in the golden-framed mirror in front of you, watching your maid place the final touches in your elegantly braided hair. You admired her obvious skill and precision, and awarded her with a fleeting smile to show your appreciation.
“Is there something that troubles you, my lady?”, she asked you kindly, as your eyes met in the mirror.
She had been your maid for a long time, long enough for a solid bond between you two to have formed. You always confided in her, and she, in return, shared her own problems with you. She was the closest thing to a friend you had ever had.
“I simply do not understand why he has summoned me all of a sudden. I cannot fathom why he could not wait until supper”, you murmured, referring to your father. He had called you for an urgent announcement that could not wait, in his words, any further.
“I am sure his Majesty has something of enormous importance in mind”, your maid gave you a tiny smirk, “What if it has anything to do with marriage?”
You rolled your eyes, perturbed by the prospect. As a daughter of a king- a princess, that is- you were expected to marry the man of your father’s choice. How you hated the idea…but you were perfectly aware it would go a long way towards nothing to protest; your father was not known for his tolerance of protestors. Every man in your small kingdom- down to every single peasant- obeyed him. The same went for you.
“I suppose it must be related to my marrying someone. Perhaps he wishes to present me to a suitor”, you chuckled wryly, “That would explain why he specifically requested I dress smartly. And lusciously”, you gestured at your fine and ridiculously expensive silk gown, dyed a deep red colour. The colour of love and passion. And death too.
“Pray, do not worry, my lady”, your maid gifted you a reassuring smile, “I am sure it will all turn out alright. Though I must admit I had a strange dream yesterday. And in the dream you were indeed wearing a bridal gown.”
“Oh?”, you said, slightly intrigued. “And, pray, Aella, did you happen to see my husband to-be?”, you questioned, adjusting the golden headband she had placed on you head.
“You see, that what was the strange thing, he was wearing a mask. I could not see his face. Though he seemed…dark.”
You pursed your lips together in faint bemusement. Aella always liked to interpret her dreams as signs from your god, but you could hardly take them seriously when they were nothing but absurd.
Before you could say anything, there was a slight knock on the door. Aella opened it and a servant girl emerged, announcing that the king was ready to receive his daughter in the throne room.
“Right”, you breathed stiffly and rose from your seat, “I shall see you later, Aella. Thank you for your service”, she held the door for you and you could not help a playful smirk that had tugged at your lips, “I shall inform you promptly should my suitor be a faceless man.”
She returned the smirk with the same playfulness. “I shall be waiting to hear the details.”
You nodded at her and followed the servant girl, who had been ordered to escort you to your father. Passing through the spacious dim-lit halls of the castle you braced yourself for what was to come. You were certain your father would introduce you to some man he wished you to marry. He had hinted of marriage lately and as much you wished to delay marriage for as soon as possible, you were well aware you could not avoid it anymore. Your father was such a persistent man.
You reached a golden arched door held by two grand pillars; you father had a keen eye for opulence. The door was sculpted with hundreds of meandering shapes of various sizes; you remembered standing hours in front of it when you were little, counting them all and tracing them with your fingertips. How lonely had you been...
You were shaken out of your trance, as two guards opened the door for you and announced your entering. You straightened your posture and raised your head high the very moment you stepped inside, knowing that your father would want you to behave excellently, exactly as you had been taught from a very young age. You had to make a good impression to whoever you were meeting tonight.
Your father was sitting on his throne, his grand, heavily-dressed frame thickly outlined by the light the torches on the walls emitted. Despite his hardness, his age, and the considerable amount of battles he had been through, he was still a handsome man, whose neat dark features projected an undoubtable aura of authority. An aura everyone perceived clearly and obeyed blindly, for fear of what it might turn into when rage arose.
Upon seeing you, he sat up and raised his hands to your direction, calling you to him. You noticed he was wearing his regal blue cape hemmed with white fur, the cape he kept only for special occasions.
“My daughter”, his thunderous voice rang in the stone-walled hall, piercing through the icy silence. He took your hands and squeezed them lightly, while you bowed gracefully.
“Greetings, father”, you said in your turn, quietly. A lady never raises her voice. It was one of the million rules you ought to remember in order to be a proper princess. “I trust you are feeling well this evening”, you added duly.
“Yes, I feel very well indeed; I have someone I want you to meet”, he went straight to the point, his eyes glinting, “He is a very good man who has come to visit us”, he added, gesturing towards an open balcony where two cushioned chairs were placed. You could see a figure seated there and your heart fluttered in nervousness. After all, this, in all likelihood, was the man you were going to marry.
“Come, lord, the princess has arrived!”, you father called to the figure. At his call, it moved slightly.
And then, to your utter horror, it turned to face you.
You instantly felt as though you had been struck in the stomach and your breath hitched in your throat. An elderly man had now risen from the seat and was approaching slowly, his one beady eye- for the other one was simply an empty socket- fixed on you. His ugliness was so striking, so prominent, you could hardly take your eyes off him, so shocked you were. You disbelievingly watched his shrunken frame come closer, struggling to hide your disgust and terror.
“Lord Aguecheek, I am extremely happy to introduce you to my daughter, princess (Y/N)”, your father said rather loudly to said man, who had now come to stand in front of you. He was dressed in outdated black clothes, his nose was shockingly twisted, and a strange stench emanated from his whole body.
It was a wonder how you managed to retain your composure.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, lord”, you said with a slight tremble in your voice and bowed.
The man took hold of your hand and brought it to his lips.
“The pleasure is all mine, sweet lady.”
His voice was croaky, but it withheld a darker undertone. You shuddered and your father must have noticed, for he shot you a surreptitious look of anger.
“Shall we move on to supper?”, your father asked no one in particular, for you were all already moving towards the dining hall.
With effort, you shallowed the lump that had settled so firmly in your throat and went on walking behind the old lord and your father, who had begun a conversation. From what you could distinguish, it was about land.
So that was it. You were being married off for land. You should have expected it.
As soon as you had taken your seats at the long wooden table, the strange man’s eye shifted to you, though he continued talking with your father. Feeling extremely uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze, you sipped your stew quietly and absentmindedly toyed with the golden trim of your sleeve.
In that aspect, it was nothing unusual for you to be bored during meals. They had always been tedious- ever since you could remember- for your father never discussed the matters of the kingdom with you and, if he had guests, they never busied themselves too much with you.
“(Y/N)!”
You raised your eyes to meet your father’s angry gaze.
“Pardon?”, you asked, startled.
“Lord Aguecheek has just enquired about your day”, he answered with gritted teeth.
“Oh”, you breathed and turned to face the other man, “My day was very fine, thank you. I trust yours was, as well.”
The lord narrowed his eyes for a moment and then broke into a toothless grin. “Yes!”, and then to your father, “Very fine indeed!”
After a moment of silence he turned to you again. “Sweet lady, do you find the mountains to be of your preference?”
“Excuse me, I do not quite understand, my lord”, you answered, genuinely baffled.
He cackled and you jumped up at the disturbing sound. “Forgive me”, he spoke, “I must explain myself. The king and I have been discussing a very important matter, in which I am inclined to engage. But before the deal is sealed on paper, I should prefer to know if a mountainside residence is of your liking.”
You blinked at him, having missed almost all of his words. Engage? Residence? Oh god, no. No.
You found your voice, eventually, under your father’s pressing gaze. “Yes, my lord, I must say I have always been very fond of mountains.”
“There!”, the relief in your father’s voice was evident, “She does like the mountains, lord, indeed she does!”
“Excellent!”, Lord Aguecheek exclaimed and clasped his hands, accidentally dropping down the slice of bread he was holding.
“Excellent!”, he repeated, once more bread had been offered to him, “A youth shall do me good, I dare say. Very good.”
He then proceeded to stare shamelessly at you for the rest of the meal, while your father beamed in utter satisfaction from his end of the table. And you…well. You felt sick. Head bowed, eyes half-lidded, struggling to fight back your tears. You could not believe this was happening. This couldn’t be your future.
After what seemed like an eternity, Lord Aguecheek finished his meal and announced his decision to depart. You sat up mechanically to bid your farewell, but he waved you to come forward. You obeyed.
“King Aemon”, he addressed your father while still looking at you intently, “May I ask for permission to have a word with the princess?”
Your father furrowed his eyebrows, but was very quick to hide it from the eager Lord. “Certainly”, was his answer, “I myself shall order for your carriage to be prepared for your departure.”
Lord Aguecheek offered you his arm and you took it reluctantly, wrinkling your nose to prevent his repulsive body odour from engulfing your lungs. In silence, he led you to the balcony he had been seating earlier that day. Inviting you to sit down on the chair next to him, he took both of your hands in his and opened his mouth to speak.
You raised an irritated eyebrow when no sound came out. “Is there something you need to tell me, lord?”, you prompted him after a while, breaking the ‘speak only when you are spoken to’ rule.
“Yes, I have indeed. My sweet princess”, he paused for a moment, “Pray, what did you say your name was?”
Your eye twitched in annoyance, as you were tempted to point out a different name altogether just to mislead him. “(Y/N), my lord.”
“Oh, right. My sweet princess (Y/N)- Heavens, what soft hands you have!”
You shuffled in discomfort as he rubbed and inspected your hands, as though they were some kind of animal to be petted.
“Thank you, my lord”, you hesitated for a fraction of a second before you decided to go on, “You wished to tell me something, I gather?”
“Oh, yes”, he took a big intake of breath and you ignored your urge to vomit then and there, “Lovely princess (Y/N), I must express my utter delight at the arrangement your father and I agreed on, this fine day. I am certain you already suspect its context and I dare say I can detect in your beautiful eyes the same excitement that has overwhelmed me.”
You instinctively opened your mouth to deny it, but closed it quickly, saying nothing.
“Yes, my dear!”, he exclaimed enthusiastically, interpreting your speechlessness as a confirmation. “Very soon, you shall be rendered mine”, he leaned in to give a slippery kiss on your hands, “All mine”, he whispered with glee, his one eye shooting you a strange look.
An awkward cough sounded from the entrance of the balcony and, to your utmost relief, a young guard announced that Lord Aguecheek’s carriage was all set up and ready to depart.
“I must excuse myself, my beautiful princess”, he kissed your hands again and you suddenly became aware of how sweaty you were, “I do not doubt that we shall meet again very soon. Until then, I bid you farewell.”
As soon as he disappeared from your vicinity, you slumped back in your chair, your body growing cold. You couldn’t marry this man, you did not want to, you didn’t…but how on earth could you argue with your father, when he had surely made his decision?
It did not matter, no. He could not force you to wed him. You would protest. Maybe, there must be a possibility, he would understand, he would reconsider.
“(Y/N). Come inside.”
Here he was. You inhaled shakily, as you rose and followed him inside the throne room. You grabbed a fistful of your dress and bit your lip in an attempt to ease your distress. His tone had not betrayed any emotion; if he was in a good mood, perhaps you could manage to convince him to change his mind.
“Father”, you began quietly but he interrupted you, raising his palm in the air.
“Silence”, he demanded and turned to look you in the eyes. You immediately took a step back. His eyes, big and dark as they always were, were now coated by a shining sheen of rage. You had never seen him like this. Your blood ran cold at his sight, as you waited for him to speak.
“You were indecent”, he thundered finally, a vein pumping in his forehead.
“Indecent!”, you cried in disbelief, unable to restrain yourself, “But I did everything I was supposed to do!”
“You foolish girl!”, he snapped angrily, “ You looked as though you were being sent to the slaughter! This is, and note it, the man you will marry. He asked for your hand in marriage and I accepted. It is your duty to look pleased!”
“Pleased? How could you expect me to be pleased, father? I had no idea-”
“Do not wield such an ungrateful tone!”, he breathed through his nose, as if he was making an effort to compose himself, “Now, what did he tell you? Speak the truth.”
You wrung your fingers, struggling to calm yourself, but anger had begun to overtake your mind, emboldening you to speak up.
“Only that he could not wait for us to be wedded”, you replied acidly and extended your hands in his direction pleadingly, “You cannot marry me to him! Please! I beg you!”
His eyes widened so much you feared they would jump off their sockets.
“What?”, he enquired in a hushed voice, “What? You dare oppose my decision? What makes you think you have a say in the matter?”, the volume of his voice had started to rise threateningly. You were trembling but anger, pure unconstrained anger, had taken the reins in your foggy mind.
“But he is so…odious!”, you protested at the top of your voice, “Do you expect me to live the entirety of my life with this…strange being? Do I not deserve to at least have a say in who I am marrying? It is my future, father, my future, not yours!”
“Enough!”, he shouted and you jumped in fear. “Shut your mouth! It is not in your place to speak nor oppose me. You are my daughter and your duty lies in obeying my wishes! Keep your opinions to yourself and do not dare speak to me in that way again!”
“Is it so difficult to think from my perspective for a moment? Please, think of the torture you are imposing to me! I am so young…he is so old!”, you insisted with panic.
“My sister was of twelve summers when she married one of my father’s most trusted advisors”, your father countered, unaffected by your protests.
“And died soon after!”, you cried in desperation, “It was the end of her! I beg you to think of me for once! Am I of so little value to you that you are willing to marry me off to such a man for a piece of land?”
“A piece of land?”, he cackled, “Do you even fathom how much this marriage will benefit me? He is my subject, in theory, but his family has owned their land for centuries, even before my ancestors usurped the throne of this kingdom. He is legally entitled to rights he can use to gain power; I cannot allow this to happen. Not to mention he has his own army. Two hundred spearmen! Do you know what a valuable addition this is to my forces?”, he eyed you with pure disdain, “Of course, I should not expect from a woman to understand. Your minds are not meant for great thinking.”
“Oh! What wise words mouthed from a man!”, you retorted, “I understand and very well, at that! You are selling me for power!”, you pointed at him accusingly, feeling a fiery sheen paint your eyes at that moment, “And I shall not stand for it! I will never marry him!”
And with that bold declaration, you turned on your heels and rushed to head out from the hall. Your heart was beating hysterically in your chest and you felt as though cold water had washed you over.
“You will marry him in a week’s time, as agreed, mark my words!”, your father’s enraged shout followed you, bouncing in the cold walls of the grand hall, a disregarded order.
“Never!”, you screamed back with all your might.
Never.
…………
A long sob escaped you, as you lied in your bed, letting all your frustration and fear flow out of you in a torrent of tears. A few hours had passed since you and your father’s row and now your anger had withdrawn and given way to an inconsolable desperation.
For reality had hit you.
Even if you had boldly declared that you would never let yourself be married to that old lord, you were certain that was not enough. Your father never accepted defeat; he would insist, he would rage, he would fight, and he would win.
You were a woman. His daughter, you belonged to him. You had no real power.
You felt your eyes well up with yet more tears at that thought. Because you were a woman, you had no right to choose your own husband, or even contribute slightly to that decision. You were being given away solely for power, how utterly horrible…
He should not have the right to choose your future husband; what if you did not even desire to be married? He could not force you…and yet he could. He could and he would do it. In a week’s time, no matter what you said or did, no matter how much you screamed or prayed, you would become Lord Aguecheek’s wife.
You shivered at that thought, burying your face in your hands in anguish. God, what have you ever done to deserve such a fate?
A knock on the door distracted you from your thoughts.
“Who is it?”, you enquired with a muffled voice.
“It’s me, my lady. May I come in?”
“You may”, you accepted but made no move to greet Aella, as she entered your chamber and locked the door behind her. You could hear the rustle of her long linen dress and her quiet footsteps as she approached, but still you did not move. She came to sit next to you on the bed and reached to put a sympathetic hand on your shoulder.
“I heard, my lady. A dreadful thing, it is.”
“Dreadful?”, you said with a crack in your voice, “It is horrible! Horrifying! Oh Aella, what am I to do?”
“Frankly, my lady, we both know that not a lot can be done. The king is furious and seems quite determined I must say.”
You removed your hands from your face so you could look at her. “Oh, I know, I know! But something must be done, and promptly! I cannot marry that man!”
Aella pursed her lips together, in thought. “He cannot be that awful, can he?”
“Oh but he is! He is so old and so bewilderingly odd! I cannot spend the rest of my life with him, it shall be torture! And I cannot accept that it is my duty to bear him children and take care of him”, you felt bile rise in your throat at the mere thought. More tears streamed down your cheeks, wetting your beautiful gown but you couldn’t summon the energy to care.
“Edgar did remark that at least he was not uncivil. He even inquired if you find the mountains appealing.”
“I see you know all the details”, you remarked sourly and shot her a scornful look. “Did you ask Edgar to recount the happenings of the evening? If you are so set that he is so good a choice for me, then we have nothing to converse about. Have a good night”, you grumbled and turned away from her.
Edgar was a palace guard who had been courting Aella for a long time now. They both clearly fancied each other immensely, there was even a lot of flirtation in their encounters. You were pretty certain he was going to ask for her hand in marriage one day. All while you would be imprisoned with that unpleasant lord in his mountain manor, cold and lonely. What an enchanting prospect, really.
“Please, my lady, do not be angry at me”, Aella said in her usual clear, calm tone and you suddenly felt ashamed you had taken out your anger at her. “I did have to learn the events from someone. And Edgar was more than willing to inform me. Please do forgive me, if I was rude.”
“No, no”, you whispered, starting to cry once more, “You weren’t rude. I-I am just so…”, you were unable to finish the sentence.
Aella moved to embrace you with her warm arms. “I understand, my sweet lady. Cry, you will feel better.”
“God, what am I going to do? How can I escape this? I do not want a future like this…”, you kept on crying in her arms.
“May I suggest something?”, Aella spoke after a while.
You untangled yourself from her arms and looked at her expectantly. “Please do.”
“I do not know if it is possible to change his Majesty’s mind, but I do know this; you do not have to marry that man anytime soon.”
You raised a questioning eyebrow, baffled. “You mean to…delay it somehow?”
She nodded, smiling mischievously. And slowly, without you noticing it at first, the same sentiment started to slip in your thoughts. You smiled back at her.
………..
Your father was waiting for you in the meeting hall. You had asked for a conference with him, stressing that it was urgent. Much to your surprise, he had accepted your request. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, as you entered in the room, your head feeling heavy from yesterday’s crying. Today you were determined to get your way.
He had his back on you, your father. He was dressed more simply and his posture was relaxed.
Perfect, you thought, he was in a good mood. You could not possibly think why though, given the unexpected turn of events the previous day.
“Good morning, father”, you started, voice gentle and mild.
“Yes”, he answered, still not turning to face you, “You wanted to see me. About your future marriage, I presume.”
“You are right, father. I wish to apologise for my attitude yesterday. I realise it was wrong of me to oppose you and I regret it now.”
You paused to look at him and catch his reaction.
“Go on”, he urged you, his voice cool.
“I recognize that my marriage to Lord Aguecheek is a great opportunity for the kingdom to become more powerful. It is selfish of me to rob you of such a blessing. I know I must marry him.”
“Good. Is that all?”
You gathered all your courage. You had to finish what you had started.
“No. I shall marry the lord but only under one condition. I ask of you four gifts.”
“Name them, then.”
“Before I fulfill your wish, I must have three dresses. One must be as golden as the sun, one as silver as the moon, and one that glistens like the stars. Further, I must have a cloak put together from a thousand kinds of pelts and fur. Every animal in your kingdom must contribute a piece of its skin for it. Until I have exactly what I ask of, I refuse to wed the lord.”
There was silence. You were holding your breath in anticipation and anxiety.
He turned to you. His face was composed, betraying nothing. You did not move.
“Agreed. I get you your gifts and you marry the lord.”
You released the breath you were holding.
………..
All was going according to plan. Your father, convinced that once he got you what you had demanded you would wed Lord Aguecheek with no further protests, had set out to make these impossible gifts a reality. Skillful maidens from the entire land were called to weave your dresses and somehow give them the colours you had insisted upon. The sun, the moon and the stars; when you put on these dresses, you had to resemble these celestial faraway orbs of light. In the meantime, expert hunters were chasing all kinds of animals and creatures that roamed throughout your kingdom, seeking to get a piece of their skin and make you a cloak. If it was not exactly what you wanted, you would not proceed with the marriage.
It was impossible to get these gifts right, you thought and laughed on your own, no matter how much they tried. For little did all these people know, little did your father know that you had made a secret vow never to marry that man. And even if somehow these gifts were indeed granted to you, you were ready to hinder the wedding by any means possible. Feign sickness, death, madness, all you would do. You were adamant to have the future of your choice.
And so on time passed and the gifts had yet to be made a reality. People worked tirelessly day and night and, even though a small part of your conscience was heavy with guilt of their troubles, you relished in their difficulty. The wedding would never come, no matter how much your father raged and cursed in his realization that you had tricked him. You, a woman, his good obedient daughter, had opposed him. And then outwitted him.
You smirked with satisfaction, as you sat up in your bed on a strangely wuthering morning. Rain seethed outside the wooden-framed window, but you did not care a button, feeling particularly lightheaded, your mind fuzzy. A good sign, perhaps.
That’s when you realised that someone was knocking on the door frantically.
“Who is it?”, you asked with a start.
“It is me, my lady, I must speak to you! At once!”
“Well, come in, Aella!”
She unlocked the door in the fraction of the second and stormed in, her eyes wide, tainted with panic.
“What happened, dear girl? What has you looking so scared?”, you demanded, a strange apprehensive feeling suddenly gripping at your heart.
“They- it’s-”, she glanced at the door fretfully, “My lady, they are coming, please brace yourself-”
Before she had even had the chance to finish her sentence, a group of servants barged in your room unannounced. Your eyes widened with shock as your gaze fell at what they were carrying, a large wooden board. And upon it laid three shiny gowns and a dark bundle, its colour a curious combination of grey, black, and brown.
Your vision blurred. No. No. They had managed it. Not so soon, no, you were not ready for this.
A young servant dressed in a colourful attire stepped forward and coughed to get your attention. Glancing at him with tear-filled eyes, you nodded at him to begin speaking.
“On behalf of his Majesty, I am to declare now that her Ladyship, princess (Y/N), has received her requested gifts, she shall be wedded to Lord Val Aguecheek, Baron of the West Shore tomorrow evening.”
Your hand instinctively shot to your mouth to prevent a gasp from emerging. Aella had shrunk in a corner, her expression despondent.
“Thank you”, you managed to muster your voice, though it was shaky when you spoke, “You may all leave now.”
You remained in silence, both you and Aella, for long after they had left. Thunderstruck, you stood motionless in your bed, unable to process what had happened. Your thoughts had frozen, fear had crept in. Panic had enveloped you with its frenzied arms. There was no hope.
“My lady…”, Aella finally broke the thick nervous silence, her voice small. “You must find the courage…”, she did not continue.
“Find the courage…for what exactly?”, your voice equally as small as hers.
“…to make a decision”, she began walking towards you, “about what the best course of action there is to follow.”
“Yes”, you whimpered pitifully, as you watched her come and sit by the bed, “I must.”
She moved to hug you and you began sobbing in her mother-like embrace.
“I shan’t marry him! I shan’t! But I do not know what to do! Father knows I tricked him, he will be so cautious now. I am so scared to try anything at all…I am doomed”, you sobbed.
“Oh, my lady, I don’t know what to say…”
“I must…I must leave”, you whispered after a while.
“My lady, there must be-”
“-no. There is no other way”, you disentangled yourself from her embrace, a solemn determination steeling your resolve. “I must leave.”
“But, pray, what will you do? Where shall you go?”
“I do not know, Aella, I do not know. The only thing I know is that I must leave.”
She stared intently at you, clearly searching for the reasoning behind your words.
“Forgive me for asking, my lady, but would you really give up all of this?”, she made a vague gesture with her hand, “Your status? Your wealth, your safety? Just because of an unwanted marriage?”
You smiled sadly. “I realised, Aella, it’s not just about this marriage. It goes deeper”, you stood up, as you talked, and headed towards the luscious gowns that had finally been made, “It is about control. I realise, dear girl, that I will always belong to someone, if I stay here. For so long I belonged to my father, doing everything he wished, being his perfect definition of a princess. If I do not leave tonight, I shall be passed down to Lord Aguecheek; and he shall control me too. To be the perfect wife for him! I do not want that, I do not deserve to be imprisoned. I long for freedom.”
While you were talking, you spread the cloak in front of you searched it with your hands, your lips forming a satisfied smile when found what you were looking for.
“Big pockets”, you chuckled wryly, “Perfect.”
You proceeded to fold the three gowns carefully and stuff them in the large inside pockets of the heavy fur cloak.
“My lady!”, Aella gasped, “What are you-”
“Easy, Aella”, you smirked, “I have decided to take them with me in my journey”, you scratched your chin, in thought, “But I cannot travel with any of my clothes; I will give myself away. You must bring me a servant’s day dress.”
You explained your plan. You would leave tonight, disguised as a servant. With little luck, you would get past the palace guards without them noticing you. And then, off to the docks you would go. To sail away, as far as you could. Away to start a new life…again, with a little luck.
“So it is settled then. I shall bring you a set of my clothes and you will exit through the servants’ quarters”, Aella repeated with a sigh, doubt evident in her voice. You nodded.
You followed her with your eyes as she bobbed you a curtsy, which you were quick to wave off, and departed quickly. You spent the rest of your day in your room, taking your meals inside, and stuffing as many of your golden jewelry you could find in the cloak. Sometime during the day, you received a messenger of your father’s, who wanted to make sure you had not flown into hysterics. For tomorrow was your wedding day. Or so he thought.
As promised, Aella arrived at some point during the night to deliver the servant’s clothes.
You looked at her delicate frame skeptically. “Wouldn’t you like to come with me? My father is bound to suspect you for aiding me in my escape. He will be furious beyond measure.”
She shook her head sadly. “Do not worry about me, my lady. I have Edgar here to protect me.”
“You are in love him, are you not?”, you asked with a sad smile.
She only smiled in response, though the hearty blush in her cheeks did reveal the unspoken answer. You reached out to her and squeezed her hand. She moved to embrace you.
“Thank you, Aella. For everything”, you whispered with emotion. You were losing your one and only companion after all.
“It was an honour, my lady”, her tone betrayed the same feeling.
“Are you certain, about all of this?”, she asked one last time, when you pulled away.
“I am quite determined, I’m afraid. Goodbye, Aella. May you have a prosperous life and all the things you wish for.”
“Thank you. I can only wish you the same, princess (Y/N). Be careful…goodbye.”
When she finally left, you did cry. For you knew this was the last time someone called you a princess.
Once the moon had settled high in the sky, round and prominent, you changed your clothes. Pacing around the room one last time, you did your best to register it in your memory; your only luggage from this life. The large mahogany bed with the lavishly weaved mattress, the meticulously hand-painted walls, your beautiful clothes, your crown. Ah, a crown. It signaled you had power, when you actually had none whatsoever. It was more of a symbol of oppression than anything else.
Stopping by the intricately decorated fireplace, an idea popped into your head. Dipping your hands into the ash, you covered your whole face with soot, as well as your hands and neck. You sneezed by the tingly sensation the dispersed dust and ash brought to your nose and wiped your hands in your dress.
Now you were practically unrecognizable. A dirty servant girl. A nobody.
You put on your cloak and set off in the darkness of the chillingly quiet palace. Walking swiftly, your steps confident and sure, you repressed the urge to laugh. Wickedly.
For in the morning, Lord Aguecheek would have no wife to become all his. The servants would find an empty chamber. And your father a broken crown, sinking miserably into the ashes.
………….
The rather unfortunate thing was that in the past you had rarely ventured outside of the palace grounds. Sure, you did attend the occasional- purely for political reasons- horse rides throughout the kingdom with your father and his attendance of advisors and prized warriors, but you simply had to smile and wave to the awestruck people passing by the busy streets, never actually observing anything.
Therefore, you had no knowledge of where exactly you should head in order to reach the docks of the town. You grunted in annoyance and internally reprimanded yourself for not asking Aella to give you some sort of directions.
When you had walked for a considerable amount of time, you started to suspect that you were probably in the outskirts of the town with a long valley stretching before you, which meant you were in an urgent need of a horse. For if you continued on foot, you would not make it at the docks before the morning. And that was certainly not part of the plan. Your father would certainly send warriors and hunters immediately to track you all over the kingdom, as soon as he discovered your disappearance in the morning.
You could not fail. For being caught by them and returned by force to face your father was the worst thing you could imagine. So horrifying to the point that it made your blood run cold in your veins, your body freezing.
It was imperative you succeeded. At all costs.
Clutching the golden cross you had been wearing ever since you were a little girl, you closed your eyes and muttered a few soothing words to yourself, hoping for something to turn up and provide you with a solution.
It must have been an hour later, just when your feet- quite unused to such straining exercise- had started to ache, that you managed to distinguish a source of light in the far horizon. As your hopes resurfaced, you quickened your step, heading towards the light, which, as you got closer, became stronger and stronger. At one point you were even able to see a bill of smoke emerging from the outline of what seemed to be a small house.
Scooting closer, you took in the sight of the wooden establishment, warmly lighted by torches, and you realised it was an inn. A few steps next to it stood another wooden cabin and you released a breath of relief at the neighing of horses that sounded from inside.
You entered the stable and happily looked at the small array of horses eating their night away. As you were extending your hand to pet one of them, a discreet cough called for your attention. You turned your head to meet the suspicious gaze of a young man, the stable boy most likely. He stood in the entrance, observing you from head to toe, his grimace revealing he was very much put off by your strange appearance.
“Who are you and what d’ you happen to want in my stable?”, he demanded roughly.
You lowered your gaze as you did not want him to notice all of your features, for he would be interrogated by your father’s huntsmen and warriors soon enough. He must not give a description that matched your appearance.
“Greetings”, you said, stopping yourself from the making the mistake to bow. “I wish to purchase a horse.”
He moved closer and you flinched, uncomfortable. You were not used to such interactions, where people were not polite and proper. You glanced at him for a moment, taking in his dirty appearance.
“Right now?”
“Yes, at this instant.”
He came to stand in front of you and you scrunched your nose at how awful he smelt, a mix of ale and horse waste. He strongly reminded you of none other than Lord Aguecheek.
“D’ you have anything to give? I will only take money.”
“I will pay, sir”, you replied quietly, biting your bottom lip nervously.
“Sir, she says!”, he muttered under his breath with a chuckle. “How much do you have?”
You raised an eyebrow. You should be the one to bargain. “How much do you take for a horse?”
“Five bars if you take Ban, the lame one. If you want a stronger one, it will be much more.”
“Listen!”, you commanded with a tone of authority, “I am in a desperate need of a horse and I have no bars of gold with me! Would you accept some of my very valuable ornaments, so I can borrow one for a night?”
“Now, wom-”
“-and if you don’t believe me, I’ll show you!”, you exclaimed with fervour, reaching into one of your pockets and pulling a handful of your necklaces, decorated with sparkling gems of various colours. Back in the castle you had so many of these but you could not carry much.
He gaped at you, wordless, clearly never even having come near such expensive trinkets in his entire life.
“So”, you smiled victoriously, “do we have a deal, sir?”
…………
Ban might have been lame, but he served his purpose nevertheless. You were afraid you exhausted the poor horse, but you had no other choice. You had galloped through the valley at an impressive speed, clutching his long mane to stop yourself from falling down.
And now you had finally arrived at the docks, after a few hours, arrays of ships and water stretching out before you, intimidating yet oddly luminous. You gulped in anxiety, as you found a lone rope and tied Ban next to a few other horses. One of the tired animals was drinking water from a wooden barrel and, casting a cautious eye over your surroundings, you surreptitiously pushed it towards Ban. Poor boy. You only hoped a good person would find him and take care of him. You wouldn’t return him to the stable, of course.
True, you had tricked his owner. But you were determined to take every measure possible to fulfill your plan. To escape. Besides he had had got his payment—and lots it.
Despite having arrived here on the back of a horse, you felt exhausted, and, with some concern, you noticed that the pitch darkness of night had begun to wane. Dawn was approaching; you had to hurry.
Naturally, there were not many people around, for very few would dare sail so early in the morning. Nonetheless, you could see a group of men loading large boxes in a rather big-looking ship, so you headed there, trying to pay no heed to the fear that had suddenly clutched your heart.
You moved towards the man who seemed to be the head sailor, ignoring the strange look he sent your way. With a shaky voice, you asked after his destination and if you could come onboard. Eying you as though you were a strange animal, he refused to answer your questions, even when you insisted that you could pay. You persevered but he remained adamant.
“Go away, you mad woman”, he scoffed with his husky voice and you obeyed, not wanting to anger him.
You looked around fearfully, anxious to find someone else to ask. But the next sailors and the next refused to take you on their boats, and you had begun to fear that nothing would be found. You shallowed thickly, a knot forming in your throat. You had to leave and swiftly.
Then you noticed a small family, a few men, women, and children, loading their own boat. It was small, but they surely could take one more person. Dashing towards them, you came to stand close to one of the women. You cleared your throat.
“Excuse me”, you said as calmly as you could, “May I ask where you are headed?”
The woman inspected you for a moment, before considering to answer your question.
“On the opposite shore”, it was her husband who spoke at last, “Why do you wish to know?”
“I…I was wondering if you have room for one more.”
There was silence. “I can pay”, you added quickly. “I can give a lot. I only ask of passage to where you are headed.”
The burly man raised a bemused eyebrow. His wife came to stand beside him. “How much can you give?”
“Lots!”, you cried, a little louder than you had intended. In a moment of panic, you dug deep into your pockets and took out every piece of jewelry you had managed to carry with you, throwing them at their feet. One of their children heard the commotion and, upon coming over and seeing the glittering ornaments, let out a delighted squeal. His mother glanced at her husband, doubt evident in her eyes.
“Please!”, you begged, your eyes shifting from wife to husband. “I won’t take much space, I will eat very little, and we shall part ways, once we make it there! Please!”
After what seemed like an eternity the man spoke, “Get to Linna over there and help her arrange the barrels.” He pointed at an older woman pushing some barrels a few feet away.
“Oh, thank you!”, you cried in pure relief, but the man stopped you.
“Alright, but don’t expect lots of food and comfort. And we will take all of this. Hurry, now”, he urged and you obliged, muttering a grateful ‘thank you’ again.
You had done it. You were leaving. Forever.
So long, father. So long, old life.
…………
You had never travelled on a boat before. It was clammy and dark- and so cold. You spent the journey in a dark little corner of the boat, silent and feeling oddly worn out. The family did not really talk to you and you didn’t talk either. As promised you ate very little, only some bread and cheese- so simple compared to what you had been used to. The sky, as if to match the state of your mind, was always grim and the weather turbulent, as if it was offering you retribution for leaving home.
Had you done the wrong thing? Had you perhaps traded your life for something that would turn out worse? What was to come?
But you could not go back now—it was too late. And you didn’t want to, no. You’d fight for yourself from now on, with all your might. Because you were young and free. Free. And freedom has to be fought for.
“You! Woman!”, a man’s harsh cry pulled you violently from your trance. You looked up in alarm, only to be met with a terrifying sight.
Huge waves were rising from the distance, the sky had almost blackened with threatening grey clouds and, you noted anxiously, the wind had turned biting cold. You’d been so absorbed in your pondering that you hadn’t taken notice of the rapid change of the weather.
The boat went to and fro, with an angry rhythm; a storm was approaching.
“Don’t stand still! Come help now!”, the same man cried and you instantly sprung up from your seat and ran towards the mast, where he was struggling to maneuver the whipping sails. Unsure of what to do to aid him, you simply imitated him in grabbing the ropes of the sails and pulling them with all our might as they flapped against the strong wind. Around you, you could hear the panicked noises from the rest of the family members; the young children screeching, the elderly lamenting, the women frantically attempting to gather everyone to safety.
The next few hours passed like a flashing, vivid nightmare, with you carrying out various orders the family directed to you; lifting this or that, comforting a squalling child, aiding a distressed elderly, tying loose ropes. Your hands and feet, unused to so much strain, were swollen and red, pain almost numbing them. The lightning flashed against the menacingly-coloured sky and the rain thrashed down with rage until you could no longer bear the violent movement of the boat and you dropped to the ground wailing in fear and desperation. Faintly, you could hear the family’s crying and pleas.
God, it could not end like this. God, it could not end.
You shut your eyes tightly as you felt the boat soar high in the edge of the waves, the wild wind signing your death sentence.
And then you heard a scream—of joy.
“Shore! We’re saved!”
You raised your head and through fogged vision you were able to distinguish the golden image of the shore, sparkling strangely in the darkened day. You gazed at it numbly, feeling your wet hair and clothes stick to your body like an iron clutch.
“Woman! Help me!”
It was the patriarch’s call, who had stumbled at the steering wheel and was despairing to lead the boat to the coast. Drawing on every last drop of energy from your body, you flung yourself to the steering wheel and pulled and pulled and pulled along with the man.
After what seemed once again hours, there was a violent thud and the rocking of the boat ceased. You looked over the mast.
And there it was. The shore. You had reached the shore.
The family had begun waling in celebration for their salvation. “We made it!”, they were crying, “Gracious god, we made it!”
You did not join them. You knew they did not care about you. You knew you had to go. You kept your stilted gaze forward as you jumped off the boat and marched ahead, your limbs and clothes hanging by you heavily. Paying no mind to the freezing water that reached your knees, you limped forward blindly, finally letting your feet sink in the sand.
You finally stepped on the yellow land, leaving the punishing waters behind you, but you felt no relief. The cold was unbearable, piercing through your weak body, yet you kept on walking, as though a hidden force pushed you to continue. Even with your head bent from exhaustion, and your numbed mind, you could distinguish the vibrant outlines of a forest, so you went on. As you entered it you felt the maddening cold wane and turn into a chilly breeze. With several last forced steps, you reached for a tree and collapsed against the steady wood, coughing. You fought to catch your breath for a few moments and gather your thoughts, but exhaustion gripped you and you passed out.
You were woken up by the faraway sound of voices. Bringing your hands to your stinging eyes to shield you from the surprising appearance of the sun, you heard your stomach growl and you winced in pain. Your wet fur coat had moistened the earth below you, and the smell somehow made you feel sick.
Shifting your head upwards a bit, you caught glimpse of a band of people dressed in grubby garments approaching but there were no remnants of energy within you. You stayed put, your limbs sprayed limply onto the earth, and, overcome by a wave of dizziness, you shut your eyes tiredly.
You must have dosed off, for you were woken up by an aggressive shake. You instantly opened your eyes and looked up in alarm.
“Give me that cross, now!”, a woman demanded in your tongue. Her voice was low but rough.
“What?”, you stammered, stunned, your mind still hazy from sleep.
“Give it to me, now!”
When you did not act, paralyzed, she snatched the cross you were wearing off your neck and quickly shoved it in a pocket of her skirt.
“No, give m-”, you started with a frail voice but she stopped you.
“Are you a fool? Close your mouth!”
“What?”, you whispered weakly.
She leaned in, and her stench immediately assaulted you nostrils. “Whatever you do, do not speak a word. Pretend you are mute and I will handle the rest.”
As she mouthed these words, another shaggily-dressed woman came closer and spoke to her with words you did not understand, her questioning, hard gaze fixed on you. Their conversation attracted several others who also joined them, occasionally glancing at you and grimacing. You lied there, immobilized by hunger and exhaustion, your heart weakly flapping in your chest.
After a few minutes, the same squalid woman who had spoken to you approached you again and spoke in your ear. “Follow us. Don’t speak, you’re safe. Lean on me.”
Feeling your bones too heavy to carry, you let her lift you up, and clinging to her shoulders for support, you started to walk together. The others joined and began directing words of their incomprehensible tongue at you. You remained silent and limp, your face a haggard mask.
Who were these people? What was this land? What were they going to do to you? This had been a part of your plan that, in your feverish rush, you had not thought through. You cursed yourself for this, for this frenzied, desperate foolishness.
The uttermost reality of what you had done finally dawned you. Panic seized you, your heartbeat accelerating dangerously.
You had reached the point of no return.