Chapter Text
The trip to His Majesty's palace takes a few short days. You spend half of the trip speaking with Tibb about the adventure to come and the other half in restless sleep. Your uncle had split up with the group to answer a summons from the king; he would be faster on horseback. Evangeline now sat across from you, occasionally humming and napping herself.
When you arrive at the palace, you find yourself stunned at the enormity and grandeur of it all. The entrance is a tall stone gate. On either side of the entrance sits stone statues of lions.
Tibb nudges you unnecessarily when you drive through the gate. You let out an audible gasp at the beauty that assaults you. The palace has many buildings, all tall and magnificent, to make it up. A golden glow seems to come off of its yellow stone. The fall leaves, in varying vibrant colors, makes the view all the more exquisite.
Your aunt points to what seems to be the main building. "That is where we will be staying for the next four months," she says.
You think that you will be headed there first but, instead, the carriage veers to the left.
You send a questioning look to your aunt.
"You will need to be fitted for your gowns," she explains.
When the carriage stops in front of a low standing and unassuming building, you all step out.
Stretching your arms over your head, you follow the lead of your aunt into the small building. Tibb is practically bouncing along on your side as you go.
You meet the tailor and the seamstress and a jewelry maker. All of them assault you with suggestions as they swarm around you. You feel as someone lifts your arm to the side and another hand lifts your chin.
"Such a quiet beauty. Modesty would be best."
"No no, she's stunning. Bright colors and dramatic angles."
"Her innocence should be the focal point here."
You're led into three different rooms, where no one asks you for any input about what you would like for your wardrobe. By the end of it all, you find yourself more exhausted about it than a day in the fields.
You step back into the carriage and your aunt offers you a small drink from her purse, saying it will pick you up.
You accept it and take a gulp from the bottle, finding the bitterness and burn of it surprising.
Sputtering, you hand it back with a thanks.
Before long, the carriage stops again. Stepping out, you find yourself standing in front of a grand estate.
"His Majesty's not usually here at this time," your aunt informs. "But our rooms are not far from his own suites." She has an air of superiority in her voice.
Walking up the stone steps, you find that there are a few servants waiting for you at the top.
"(Y/N)." Your aunt pulls your attention again. "These are our personal servants for the duration of our stay."
A young woman, almost your age it seems, steps forward and curtsies deeply. "My name is Taryn, miss. I will be a personal maid to you and your sister."
You nod your head in greeting and smile. "Very nice to meet you, Taryn."
Tibb introduces herself and exclaims that she’s exhausted. Taryn offers to take you two to your rooms to rest. You decline the offer.
“Is it possible that I can take a bath instead?” you ask.
“Yes, of course, miss.” Taryn is about to lead you and Tibb away when anther servant appears from inside the building.
Your aunt leaves with them. Apparently your uncle Leo has news and wants to see her.
“I’ll show you to your rooms, miss (Y/N) and little miss Tibb.” Taryn leads you both into the grand hallway.
The entrance is beautiful. The idea that this is where you’ll be staying for a whole four months finally sinks in and you feel giddy with excitement.
Taryn leads Tibb and yourself over marble floors and past golden statues. There are fabrics hanging from the high ceilings over the tall windows that sweep to the ground dramatically. The tapping of your shoes fill the hall in a symphony of sound and the music seems to be the loveliest you’ve ever hear.
Tibb is dropped off at her room first, and before long you are lead to your own room by Taryn. She leaves you once you reach the door, telling you she'll be back to fetch you after your bath is drawn.
You turn to finally look at your room- three times larger than the room you share with Tibb at home. There is a large bed with a golden canopy hanging over the four tall posts of its headboard and foot board. The golden hue is almost enough to hurt your eyes, but the room has been decorated tastefully. A large fireplace sits on the opposite side and a chaise is directly in front of it. Looking at the windows, you can see the same kind of lush curtains from the hallway are covering them.
Taryn returns about an hour later. You’re lounging on the chaise enjoying the splendor and don’t notice her knock or come in until she’s right beside you.
“Goodness!” you exclaim. “You scared me, Taryn.”
“Forgive me,” she says quickly. “I kept calling your name. I thought you were asleep.”
You sit up. “No, it’s not your fault. I was daydreaming.”
Taryn smiles at this. “When I first came to the palace, I was just nine. I’d thought I died and this was heaven.” She’s looking around your room in reverie. When her eyes find yours again, they crinkle in a smile. “You’re bath is drawn now, miss (Y/N).”
The baths are just as exquisite as you expected them to be. The porcelain tubs are as large as some of the small ponds you used to swim in when you were younger. Paintings of mermaids and goddesses litter the walls in the room and the fragrance is almost overwhelming.
Leaving the room, you feel as though your skin glows like the golden palace walls drenched in sunlight.
You’ve changed into a lilac dress. One of the few nice dresses you’ll have before your new gowns are made. Taryn is no where to be found when you leave the steaming room, though, and you start to wander instead of waiting for her to lead you back to your own room.
A large door at the end of a hallway catches your attention. It almost seems out of place with it’s plain dark wood against the cream and gold decor surrounding it.
You approach it in a sort of trance. When you put your hand to the handle, it’s unlocked and you open the door to be greeted with sunlight.
Once your eyes adjust, you find that you’ve stumbled upon a large courtyard garden. It’s beauty is different from the rest of the rooms you’ve encountered. The autumnal flowers have a raw beauty; fragile and temporary.
Here are purples and oranges and reds and greens. And, while the castle was a delight to see, this is ethereal and takes your breath away.
You walk further into the large open space. The stone fountains here are not flowing and sit stagnant and frozen in time. With each step you take you feel your heart grow lighter and lighter.
There’s a bench hidden amongst a flowery bush, and you decide to sit here. When birdsong reaches your ears, you close your eyes. This almost reminds you of home.
“Now here’s a flower I’ve never seen.” A voice pulls you out of your daze violently.
You snap your eyes open and stand up suddenly. Apologies spill out from your mouth. “So very sorry. I shouldn’t have wandered here.”
A tall man stands before you. Lifting your gaze, you can see that he’s handsome and most likely of higher birth than you, judging by his clothes. He’s smiling at you, obviously amused at your small panic. “I’m afraid it is I who should apologize. I shouldn’t have disturbed whatever lovely dream you were having.” His voice is deep and smooth.
“You wouldn’t be the first to startle me today, sir,” you say, thinking about Taryn. You look around yourself to find the exit or the way you came, but no path seems familiar and you can’t see any doors or gates over the tall shrubs. “But I should get going.” You incline you head slightly, then glance around again.
“If I may, I could lead you back to the door,” the man suggests. “I’ve been here too long myself, and must go.”
You agree to this, following him. “May I ask your name, sir?” you ask.
“Thomas.” This is all he says. Usually gentlemen give their titles in addition to their names. But at this moment it doesn’t matter.
“Hello Thomas, my name is (Y/N).” You say little more than him. It’s very informal amongst royals like yourself and whomever this Thomas man must be. Even in your own modest home, your parents taught you as much.
He turns and nods his head slightly. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” Reaching out a hand, he smiles.
You feel your face burn as you reach your own hand out and place it in his.
When he lifts your hand to his lips, your knees suddenly go weak and you don’t understand the feeling that the gesture gives you. Drawing your hand back slowly, you lower your eyes. “A pleasure,” is all your small voice is able to say.