Twisted Embers

You're...Something

A month passed, then two. Nikita had been permanently assigned to Princess Fir, and by now they knew practically everything about each other. For instance, Nikita knew that Fir's favorite color was maroon, she adored Orca's, she had a secret addiction to sweet potato's, winter was apparently the best season and October the best month. In turn, Fir knew that Nikita liked Osprey's, her favorite drink was cinnamon and clove tea with wild honey, she was allergic to ants, and liked classical music. That was another thing, the Princess had requested Nikita refer to her just by her name, Fir. No more formalities. Deanna was raging, which thrilled the both of them. Nikita had introduced Fir to all of the servants, and Fir took a genuine interest in them. Often they sat at unholy hours listening to others' stories. Currently they were taking a stroll through the garden, hand in hand, Fir ranting about her dancing instructor. "...And THEN I said, 'Well maybe if you didn't lead like a dying monkey I wouldn't be stepping on your toes!'"
Nikita burst out in laughter so forceful it crippled her. Fir grinned, a triumphant look on her face. When she finally recovered, Nikita found them both a bench to sit at. They rested and enjoyed each other's presence. Nikita gazed at their interlaced fingers, feeling warmth fill her entire being. She turned her eyes to Fir. "You know, you really are... something," Fir looked up, chin resting on her shoulder. She looked about to say something when a herald found them. "Princess," he said, bowing low. Princess Fir quickly stood, donning the mask of professionalism. "The King requires your presence." Fir looked at Nikita, staying carefully neutral. Nikita, however, saw the worry in her eyes. "I'll be back soon," she said. Then she was gone, flying up to the nearest tower to enter the castle and navigate to the throne room. The herald left, leaving Nikita alone among the flowers.

Fir didn't like this. Her father sat coolly on the throne, guards flanking his either side. This was all actually very normal, yet something felt wrong. "Fir," her father began, "our laws state that a woman is of marrying age at 16. This of course, includes you." Fir was deathly quiet. "In a few months time, you will be of age. Usually I am a man of patience, but too many youths of nobility are being claimed. Before your 16th birthday, we the court will have found you a suitor. Word has already been sent to the nobility, and arrivals should begin shortly. When they do, you will present yourself as you have been taught: submissive, quiet, refined. You are here to marry and produce an heir for the Draconis. Do you understand?" She should have shouted. Should have screamed and told them no. But even the revulsion was a speck compared to her fear. She nodded and was excused. As soon as the throne room door was shut behind her she ran, eyes blurring. She hated it, hated him, hated the entire world in that moment. She didn't care who she bumped into or listen to the shouts of those she passed, she simply ran.

Deanna was pleased. Ever since that stupid girl had been assigned to her charge, Deanna had been practically out of the picture. Deanna had taught Princess Fir everything, and this is what she got? No matter. Maybe her new husband will knock some sense into her. It's unfortunate it couldn't have been the Fae Prince. The boy had been married off to another after the rejection of the Princess two months ago. She sighed. Better not to dwell on the past. All would be well soon enough.