Slave Prince

[Sapphira]

Crown Prince Sylvestre Jerard Tyrell was on his way back from a hunting expedition. Early evening light still shone through the trees as his party drove their horses toward Zephyrhills. A summer storm hung on the horizon, surrounding the towers of the castle where the royal family lived. Their horses sweating profusely, the party tried to beat the coming rain.


As if on cue, a barrage of arrows flew through the trees when the horses neared a clearing. Sylvestre's steed was hit and smashed into the ground whinnying in pain. He soared through the air, his blue cape getting stuck on a low lying branch. The prince hung there awkwardly for a moment twisting and turning, trying to free the luxurious fabric. Finally, the branch gave out and snapped sending him tumbling into the dirt. His new riding outfit composed of a decorated royal blue jacket and white trousers was filthy. Angrily attempting to brush grit from himself, the bandits caught him easily.


"Run, m'lord!" a member of his escort roared seconds before his death at the sword of an outlaw. Sylvestre turned toward the scream and was knocked backward, hitting the ground for a second time.


"Lookie what we have here. Don't forget to bow boys. You're in the presence of royalty," said the apparent leader of the group. Everyone laughed and spat into the dirt around the prince who recoiled in disgust.


"You can't treat me this way. I am the Crown Prince of Zephyrhills. My father will have your heads for this," Sylvestre shouted irately at the leader.


"If they ever find you. I reckon our queen would like to meet you. She rarely lets captives free. Seems like you'll be with us now." There was another round of laughter as the prince was kicked in the head by the bandit leader. He slumped over beginning to black out. "Strip him," was the last thing he heard before falling unconscious.

 

[TommyCat]

A pair of bare feet padded swiftly through the dewy grass, dodging tree roots and hopping over bushes as the white dress of their owner trailed behind her darting form. Wide blue eyes led her charge, lit with a childlike glee as the hair that normally hung nicely beside them flowed free and wild behind the woman running through the woods. Princess Adelaide Beaulieu was hardly one for staying inside, even when her tutor called her afternoon activities her 'utmost priority.' The castle was absolutely stifling. The air hung dreadfully thick, her personal staff and those in their villages lived in grave tension, and the reign of her stern mother drove onwards. That woman was a regal, but dangerous figure-- the crown princess was another story altogether.


A light and carefree soul at heart, she took to roaming the surrounding wood whenever granted an opportunity, whether it be on horseback or by foot. Today in specific, she had left her dainty shoes and dresses behind to run freely in just her short, white nightgown. It was the freest fabric of all, while still remaining modest. Many may find it quite unsuitable for a young lady, but those in the castle that new the girl would more likely tend towards calling it a part of her charm.


Coming to a babbling stream, her pace slowed rapidly so that she may stealthy cross the smooth rocks as she came to the end of the line of trees framing the entry path to the castle. Ahead, she heard the roar of a carriage, a team of horses tearing down the road quickly as a group of what appeared to be outlaws neared the castle gates.


Frowning slightly, the princess paused by the stream to questionably bite her lip. What fresh trouble was this? Sighing softly and allowing her curiosity to get the best of her, the young woman retreated to the castle for now to hear the news. It was all too often the queen took to hiring criminals to carry out her dirty work, but it was just a matter of what they'd been sent to do this time. No doubt, Adelaide new her mother would not take the time to tell her in person, so a bit of snooping would surely be necessary now.


Stepping foot into her chambers, she was unsurprised to find a chambermaid already there to scold her for running off. The older woman was gentle with her words, but worry was always clear on her features.





"I apologize for running off," Adelaide spoke sincerely, sending a small smile to the woman as she accepted the offer of fresh clothing. Then pausing, she had to ease her curiosity. "Please, do you know what news these new arrivals are bringing?"

 

[Sapphira]

Sylvestre slipped in and out of consciousness. Odd dreams floated by filled with the roar of horse hooves and the smell of dung. Men could be heard shouting over the din and there was a piercing chill to the air causing the young prince to shiver. It was a few hours before he came to, realizing he hadn't been dreaming. Slumped over onto the hard bench of a black wooden carriage, he had been stripped down to his breeches. Irons cuffs held his arms behind his back, sending shooting pains through his shoulders.


The prince sat up and looked out the window. Bandits on horseback surrounded the carriage. Nothing familiar lay past them. He was far from the safety of his castle walls. A panic started to settle in causing crazy plans to form. Inching back in his seat, Sylvestre reached his hands as far back as possible and grabbed the handle of the carriage door. He pushed it open and turned around to face the scene rushing past.


Now or never, were his last thoughts before jumping, the ground rushing up at 30 mph. The impact was the greatest pain he ever had to endure. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he stood and ran into some brush. It took a moment for the bandits to stop their horses and turn around and Sylvestre used the time to find a hiding spot behind a thick tree.


Despite the efforts of the young lad, it didn't take long for the bandit leader to find him. Next thing he knew, he was being pulled up by his wavy, golden brown hair. A knife came up under his chin, cutting lightly into his skin.


"A slippery one you are. I wouldn't try that again if I were you," the crusty brigand suggested, his terrible breath lingering in the air.


"You won't kill me," Sylvestre stated, his voice cracking with uncertainty.


"Test my patience enough and I just might." The knife sank deeper into the prince's neck drawing a little blood. The bandit leader let him go and kicked him forward back toward the carriage. Sylvestre kept quiet and got back into the wooden box obediently. His icy blue eyes were filled with fear as he spent the rest of the trip wondering what would become of him. Hours later they finally slowed and passed through the gates of foreign castle walls.


When they stopped, he was pulled from the carriage and the cuffs were removed. Unfortunately, there was no time to stretch his aching limbs as he was pushed forward into wooden stocks. One of the bandits stayed to watch over the prince as the rest entered the castle leaving a trail of mud prints in their wake. Once inside the throne room, they bowed before the queen.


"We come baring the gift of the crown prince of Zephyrhills for your majesty," the bandit leader announced proudly.

 

[TommyCat]

Long legs crossed before her as she lounged casually upon the red satin cushion of the throne, the queen eyed the man brought to her with mild interest. He had been stripped, a bit beaten, and now appeared as nothing but a peasant boy from the wooden stocks he was presented in. Was this fool truly royalty in Zephyrhills? Raising a curious eyebrow as a mixture of delight and devious intent danced in her eyes, the queen slowly uncrossed her legs to lean forward just a tad to better look over the young man. After a few beats of silence, she let out a soft bit of laughter that would have been sweet sound if not for its darker, twisted undertones. Brushing her long black hair to the side, the older woman spoke up amusedly. "You expect me to believe this is Crown Prince Sylvestre Jerard Tyrell? You simply must have brought me the wrong man. Look at this filth you all dragged in!"


Yet, as if just to show her understanding that this was indeed the right man, she regarded one of her attendants bluntly. "Bring me my daughter. I wish for her to see the face of the prince that would become just a man beneath us. Go!" She spoke harshly, sending the attendant scurrying off into the shadows beyond where she sat. Then standing herself, the queen descended the stairs marking the boundary between her throne and her guests. Moving to stand tall a few feet from the wooden stocking, her unforgiving icy stare bore into the face of the young prince. "Where did you get your nerve, boy? To address this kingdom's royalty like this! For shame! Do you even realize who you're speaking to right now? Do you realize what situation you're in?" Her questions rolled off her tongue quickly, booming voice echoing loudly behind them as she continued without pause for response.





"Your Majesty, you sent for me." A softer, yet firm voice spoke up from the side of the room. Stepping out from the shadowed hallway was Princess Adelaide. The spitting image of her mother in many ways, with the same basic facial structure and looks, there were also many notable differences even upon first glance. The princess' blue eyes were somehow far softer, more distant, and her skin a few shades more tan. Their wardrobe was even catered to each woman differently, with the queen's long robes in rich velvets and the princess suited in lacy, light clothing as if to purposefully note innocence. All this, of course, by choice of the queen.





"My dear sweet thing, come here." The queen urged her, heels clicking as she strutted right on over to the hesitant girl who had been avoiding the gaze of all in the room. Biting her lip in silence, it was all Adelaide could do to follow after her mother obediently as her arm was grabbed and yanked awfully quickly towards the young prince. "This is the man I've been hunting for, to better secure our reign, darling. He was a threat to our kingdom as an enemy prince, and now look how far he has already fallen."


The young girl's eyes, however, saddened just a touch upon studying the face of the man. Her head screamed to look away, for she didn't want to see this. As per usual, she wanted no part in her mother's twisted plans. What good was this to do their kingdom? Eyebrows scrunching together just a bit, Adelaide stared hard at him regardless, as per her mother's wishes.





"What a filthy man, and meeting me daughter in this way. Apologize for your sorry appearance! Have you no shame? What do you have to say for yourself?" The queen demanded of him, stepping behind her daughter this time so both, contrasting pairs of blue eyes were locked onto him.

 

[Sapphira]

While the bandits were inside, a small crowd had gathered around Sylvestre. "Who is this?" one of the peasants asked his watchdog. The bandit smiled deviously and jumped up onto the stocks where the prince was held captive. "You don't recognize his majesty? Why it is Prince Sylvestre of Zephyrhills." An eruption of boos broke out after his announcement, the people a reflection of their queen. "He's no prince! Looks like one of us!" A head of extremely rotten cabbage flew through the air and hit Sylvestre on the head. If it had been raw, pain would have resulted. Instead, a nasty slime dripped down his forehead. Blinking in an attempt to clear his stinging eyes, he roared angrily, fighting to break free of the stocks to no avail. More rotten vegetables followed, only subsiding with the arrival of the queen.


She would have been beautiful had it not been for the undertone of corruption in her voice. He looked up at her defiantly, trying to keep his courage. No matter how bad he looked, Sylvestre still felt the pride of his birthright. The stocks made it so he was bent forward, which only added to his anger. It was like he was bowing to the enemy queen, something he would never do willingly. Then she called her daughter out to view the spectacle.


Sylvestre froze, becoming a human statue. The princess was lovelier than any woman he'd ever laid his eyes upon. Her sad gaze was fixed on him and he stared back, briefly distracted from the dire circumstances. Remembering his appearance, he quickly looked away, embarrassed for the first time that day. When the queen ordered him to apologize for his unclean presence, anger quickly replaced humiliation. Cabbage juice had gotten into his mouth and he knew exactly what to do with it. Gathering as much saliva as possible, he spit right at the queen's feet. A hush filled the air, everyone waiting for her response.

 

[TommyCat]

Cabbage juice from the prince's mouth spewed right across the queen's heels, pointed toes covered in the saliva mixture as the woman looked down for a moment in the utmost shock. Then, reeling in anger, she let out a loud cry of fury and drew her ringed hand back. It would fly forward with her anger but a moment later in what would be a strong slap to the prince's face. "You. Insolent. Wretch! I have half a mind to kill you here!" She threatened, drawing a small dagger from her own person. The beauty of her face nearly altogether vanished with the lines her fury was drawing, a snarl on her face as if an animal about to bite.


Adelaide had watched the saliva spew with widened eyes displaying a mixture of horror as well as a tint of amusement. While her mother surely deserved it- and Adelaide did enjoy seeing it happen to some degree- it would surely mean the worst of consequences for the young man. Death, however, hadn't been the first thing she thought her mother would come up with. Moving swiftly and without much thought, the young girl stepped between her mother and the man, one firm hand on her mother's dagger. She could feel herself shaking slightly as she knew what becoming the new focus of the queen's anger meant. Think quick, she begged herself.





"Adelaide?" The queen questioned, icy gaze sliding over to her own daughter as her grasp on her dagger made no move to loosen.





"Mother, please. He isn't worth bloodying your hands. Besides, wouldn't it perhaps be more satisfying to punish him slowly and have him live? Kill his pride." She suggested, voice just as sweet and firm as earlier, though she lacked the enthusiasm to back her words. Adelaide's hesitant blue eyes shifted to the prince, desperation racking her mind as she forced a slight smirk onto her face. She would try her utmost to allow an innocent life to pass by under the queen's radar.


Calmed and surprised by the odd notion of her daughter taking interest in one of her prisoner's punishments, the queen relented. Quirking an eyebrow at the young woman and sighing as she sheathed her weapon, she nodded curtly. "You are quite right, you sweet thing. This wretch doesn't deserve even death." She spoke coldly, the signals of fury in her features passing as she turned and strode away from the two of them.


Adelaide shifted her feet beneath her lacy dress, relieved, but not out of the burning pot quite yet.





"You shall deal with the punishment of him, then, child. What do you suggest we begin with?" The queen spoke almost sweetly now, as if proud of her child for taking her first steps into adulthood. The small smile on the woman's face as she turned for a moment to regard her daughter once more almost triggered Adelaide's gag reflex. She could never stomach actually torturing someone. Nevertheless, it was her choice, and it had to be a good one.





"Why, I do believe the stables need a good cleaning. Wouldn't you say that would suit him well, mother?" Adelaide replied after only a beat, thinking quick on her feet as her eyes shifted to focus on her mother. Careful of her expression, she wore a small smile to match the queen's.


After a few moments of tense silence, the queen staring between the two of them, she nodded firmly. "Good choice, child. Boys, well done. If you'd just have the palace guard take it from here. I'll ready your payment." She ordered the outlaws, still smiling at her daughter's act to take charge, as she left the room for good.


Assuming the palace guard would make the proper moves in taking the young prince to the stables without her needing to watch, Adelaide snuck one last look at the man. His features were handsome, no doubt, and his hair fair and seemingly soft. To see the dirt and rotting vegetables covering him now made her cringe away, turning and walking in the opposite direction as her mother without further words.

 

[Sapphira]

Sylvestre's head rang after enduring the harsh slap across the face from the queen. The apple of his left cheek split open from one of her jewel encrusted rings. Blood ran from under his eye to chin. Air hit the gash, causing a burning sting to develop. He inhaled deeply, holding the air in, fighting back tears. Hadn't cried since childhood, but now he couldn't stop the water works. Once the ache lessened, a calm settled in. No hope or grand imaginings of escape remained. The queen held a dagger in her hand, about to murder him and yet death seemed a sweet gift. However, was not to be, for the princess stopped the killing blow. Was it his imagination or did he see a small smile play across her lips when he tainted the queen's shoe? Some time passed before he realized what came out of her mouth. Punish me slowly? Kill my pride? Is she like her mother after all? Questions filled his head, adding to the headache that wouldn't go away.


Cleaning horse shit--inhaling it, touching it, most likely with his bare hands--was the activity he looked forward to for the next few hours. To make matters worse, the princess came up with the punishment herself. He had been reduced to little more than a peasant, his title meaning nothing to anyone but himself. Adelaide's cold blue stare graced Sylvestre one last time before she left him to suffer at the hands of the royal guard. Feelings of being cast aside diminished any pride that remained. The peasants surrounded him, pointing and laughing at the misfortune that befell the young prince.


After a short time the palace guard opened the top half of the stocks and grabbed him roughly. Pulling him forward, dragging his bare feet across the cobblestones, they headed for the stables at the back of the castle. Upon arrival, the armored men threw him face first into a heaping pile of horse dung, laughing merrily afterward. "Put the shit in a basket and take it out to the farmers beyond the castle walls. One of my soldiers will supervise," said the leader of the bunch, causing a slur of curses from his inferiors. Sylvestre crawled out of the mess and wiped his face with his hands. "And make sure he gets washed up after. The miserable wretch stinks," were the final orders given to the unlucky fellow left to watch him.


The miserable task took nearly three hours to complete, for the basket was small and held only a few pounds of poo at time. A shovel was provided, but Sylvestre preferred to use his hands making the job faster, the tiny shovel more a hindrance. He was already covered in the shit so what did it really matter? After a while he finally stopped gagging and his nose got used to the smell. It felt like the fall from grace was complete. When the work was done, a bucket of water was dumped over his head and he was sent to the dungeons. He spent the night awake, wet and smelly, wondering if he would ever be found. Doubt and depression prevailed.

 

[TommyCat]

Meanwhile, Adelaide was returned to the care of her tutor, who went on in their history lesson while the princess sat quietly upon her stool. Back held straight and proper, eyes intent upon him, she looked quite the part of the student. However, the ongoings in her head were much different. The words from the scholar's mouth buzzed about her fervently, overfilling her already-plentiful pool of thought. Sights from the throne room lead her hands to continue trembling, her stomach curdling violently with a mixture of fright and regret as she stared onwards, unable to process what was being taught.


She had finally become the image her mother had always wanted-- coldly punishing an innocent man who had somehow wronged them, and acting fit to the role. Yet, inside she had never felt more twisted. She knew she had acted the part quite well, but to what avail? All she had wished to do was stop her mother's blade, and she had, but here she was studying while the prince was subjected to who-knows what horrors by the peasants and in the stables. Coming up with some dreadfully humiliating chore was all she could do to help him. Picturing the pained, dirtied prince working in the stables, she felt her eyes clench shut. Knuckles whitening as she gripped her skirts at that thought, Adelaide suddenly felt about to wretch. The young princess stood and retreated to her chambers, leaving her tutor aggravatingly calling out after the runaway girl once more.


That night she spent quietly, reluctant to answer questions from those tending to her, and brushing her tutor off completely by stating that she needed time to think of the man's further punishments. This wasn't altogether wrong. She did indeed need to come up with more for him to do, more to keep him from the typical route of her mother's wrath. He could have been killed already today, or worse, and she needed to continue the act well to keep him from that chance again. It was all she could do. With a heavy heart, Adelaide waited until the dead of night to steal away from her chambers.


Riding boots gently padded down the corridors of the dungeon, a candle's light dangling from the outstretched arm of the late-night visitor. Cloak drawn over her head, she had convinced the guards that she was but a maid sent to bring a piece of stale bread for the prisoner's dinner. Satisfied, they had let her in. Once the dungeon's door had been shut behind her, however, the dark solitude gave Adelaide the chance to openly reveal herself. Pulling her cloak back from her head and withdrawing the bountiful basket she'd kept carefully covered at her side, the princess looked about for the sole prisoner she wished to visit. "Prince Tyrell?" She spoke up softly, hesitant yet wishing for her voice to be heard. "I do not wish to harm you. I realize I cannot apologize, but... I wish to bring you some things."


Peering into the shadows, she believed she saw his form, but that outside of the range of her candle was beyond her vision and she wished to keep her distance. Unacquainted and unfamiliar with him, she was unsure of how he may react to this. Biting her lip hopefully, Adelaide would wait patiently if need be.

 

[Sapphira]

The thing about dungeons is they give you a lot of time to think. Sleep was no where in Sylvestre's thoughts, however for he was unable to get remotely comfortable in his new quarters. The cot was stiff, devoid of any padding. The air cold, yet stuffy from the layers of human defecation that seeped between the cobblestones. A bucket served as his toilet. Prison was nothing like the apartments back at castle Zephyrhills. He longed for his plush multilayered bed cushions and fluffy feathered pillows. A million promises prayed to a God he never had much time for in the past, if only to be able to lounge in his luxurious bathtub again.


"Lord forgive me," he whispered wondering what he'd done to deserve such a terrible fate. Maybe it was the fact that he skipped out on engagement discussions with his father. Early in the morning he was supposed to meet with the king for breakfast. Marriage had been the topic of their conversations for weeks. A list had been made of appropriate suitors and all that was left was for Sylvestre to meet them. Of course a grand ball would be held for all of the kingdom to eavesdrop on his progress. The pressure ended up being too much for him, so he decided to skip the meeting. He'd set off early with a small group of guards, who were probably all dead now, and hunted until the sun started to dip into the clouds. He'd planned to apologize and reschedule when he got back, but the circumstances prevented it. Strange how one mistake could change everything in an instant.


The young prince's self pity was interrupted with the whistle of the dungeon door being opened and closed. A figure bathed in candlelight walked toward him. Curiosity and fear mingled together in his gut, causing uncomfortable butterflies. Who would be visiting him at this hour, he wondered to himself and was answered by the voice of the princess calling to him in the darkness. He kept quiet not knowing how to feel about her, but when she mentioned an apology offering, something inside snapped. What was it about pretty girls that made them think they could walk all over you, then make it all better with a pout and a sorry? He folded his arms over his chest and remained silent for a long time.


"I'm not sure I should accept anything you have to offer. Might be poisoned, y'know, save the death for after the humiliation," he responded with sourness.

 

[TommyCat]

The fair young woman cringed. Of course he shouldn't be happy with her. Why should he trust her after hearing that outlandish talk of stripping away his pride and killing it? Had she really said such things? Tucking a stray lock of hair behind one of her ears, the young princess forced herself to stand strong here. The sour tone he sent her way not easily digested, leading part of her to think of simply fleeing the area, but a greater part of her yet wished to crumple into a pile of tears after that scene in the throne room. The thought now drew her eyebrows together, knitted in a soft crease between her eyes as she struggled to try explaining herself.


At least he was alive. The thought did bring her some relief, even though his situation was not exactly any better than said death may perhaps seem. At least there was the hope of his survival-- it wasn't often someone survived her mother, and never had the princess had the gall to speak up to avoid such a thing. "I cannot apologize for my words, but I do hope to at least spare your life. If you will not eat what I've brought, please at least consider using the rest." Adelaide spoke with a soft sigh, voice remaining firm as it had earlier been, yet still in its tones far softer than her mother's. The gentle demeanor of the girl had made its full return as she knelt carefully upon the dungeon floor to uncover the contents of her basket. Paying no mind to how the dirt and moisture of the floor may soak into the nightgown just visible beneath her cloak, she bit her lip thoughtfully.


There was still tomorrow to worry about. Today he'd only done one task-- what would he need to do tomorrow in order to keep him out of the torture chambers? Shoulders slumped slightly and mood made drearier at the concept, the young woman still attempted to put on a hospitable face. "I'm afraid I couldn't bring as much as I would have liked to. I should vid suspicion as much as possible if I'm to be of any help. I brought an ointment for that cut you received earlier, across your face..." She explained, voice quite weaker at the mention as her mother's attempt to kill him replayed through her head. Yet, she reached into the basket to produce the small canister of natural ointment. It was partially used already, nabbed from the store rooms, but it was a decent amount that no one would notice gone. "Our knights use it for light wounds. It could prevent infection. I also brought you fresh water and bread, though... You certainly don't need to accept that. Apart from those things, I just brought a clean cloth. I thought maybe you could appreciate a bit of cleaning. I wouldn't mind washing that wound or your hair for you." She offered hesitantly, slender fingers gripping what was indeed a clean washcloth, though after his harsh words, she felt the futility in her actions. At the very least, perhaps he would accept the ointment to use.


Worst case scenario, he would go on to live another day, and she could try her utmost to keep it that way. Taking in a deep breath before sighing again, Adelaide gently gripped the coarse fabric of her cloak as she dared to bring up the day to follow. "I said what I did to stop her dagger. You may not recognize it that way, but that is the truth. Tomorrow I will have to present you with a list of more humiliating chores if I am to keep you alive and out of her reach." She admitted, her earlier thought resting heavily upon her. It's all she can do.

 

[Sapphira]

The prince couldn't prevent the growl that exploded from his stomach. Having eaten little since breakfast earlier in the day, bread and water sounded like a delicacy to Sylvestre. It was so quiet in the small space, he assumed she heard the giveaway of hunger. Pride begged him to keep up the cold front, but preservation told him to snatch the loaf before it went stale. The promise of food wasn't guaranteed for him anymore. Mouth starting to water, he gave into temptation. A cautious hand reached toward Adelaide's basket and retrieved the precious roll.


The outside of the bread was crisp and flaky, crackling under the prince's touch. He lifted it to his nose, marvelling at the freshness. Finally, bringing the loaf to his mouth and biting into it, he thought to himself that nothing had ever tasted better. Next he reached for the small pitcher of water and tipped it back, letting the cool liquid quench his thirst. Then more bread, taking eat bite slowly, careful not to reopen the wound on his cheek. Maybe he could trust her. She had risked a lot to give him aid.





"I'll clean myself up, if you don't mind," Sylvestre said after finishing his meager provisions. Keeping his distance, he took the clean rag and retreated back into the darkness. He was afraid she would get too close. Letting Adelaide take care of him gave off the message that he had completely forgiven her, though he wasn't sure if that was the case. He poured some of the water from the pitcher over his head, loosening up the dirt. Then he used the rag to wipe his face, arms and chest. That would be as good as it got for now without a water basin. Sighing and looking over at her, the prince felt a small lump of guilt rise up into his throat.


"Thank you for your kindness. I guess it would be okay if you applied the ointment." Sylvestre wanted to show her that he wanted to trust her, plus there was no mirror to see what he was doing. He scooched into the light, looking off to the side. There was something about her eyes that drew him in and scared him at the same time. She wanted to keep him alive. Why? They knew nothing about each other, he thought to himself as he sat waiting. What kind of horrid things would she come up with to save his life? The whole arrangement was slightly sick and twisted.


"I would ask one other favor of you as well, though it may not be possible at this hour. Clean clothes. I would rather not not slave away in my underwear. Other than that, I will try to complete all of your trials to the best of my ability," the prince said leaving out the fact that he was only biding his time until there was a chance to escape.

 

[TommyCat]

Hearing the growl of hunger sound despite the prince's seeming distaste in her offer, Adelaide couldn't help but let a grin pass over her face. It was of course not funny in the least that he had labored so hard to work up that hunger, but there was something a bit boyish about his denial of food coupled with hunger that lightened her mood just a tad. Seeing a hand reaching out for her basket, however, her eyes did widen a bit. He had changed his mind? Gently giving her basket a little push in his direction across the damp and grimy floor, she helped to at least assist in his efforts to grab it. He certainly didn't seem to trust her, so she wouldn't bother with trying to hand it to him personally.


Quietly allowing him to eat, she sat calmly, though within her heart thrummed with the continued fear beating in her chest. What was she to do? It was tough situations such as these that gave her the urge to leave, run outside the castle walls and delve into the forest surrounding. It was all too often that she indeed did those things, yet this time was perhaps a bit different. This situation could mean graver danger than she'd faced before, and this man's life was something she'd just taken into her hands. Whether she could actually manage to put on that cold front to distract the queen's attention from him again was another story altogether. The thought made her wish to retch. Eyes wondering about the surrounding darkness of the dungeon, one of her hands gently grasped her throat, feeling the discomfort there as she tried to even her breaths to a calm again. The prince was in far more danger here-- she had that thought bring her back to reality.





"Oh, of course!" She gave her consent easily with a nod, handing over the clean cloth she had had prepared and watching as he moved to do his best in the present situation. The sight again plucked at her heartstrings. It had always been difficult for Adelaide to witness the treatment of prisoners here, yet this was her first time taking charge and attempting to make it a better situation. She was aware she was putting her neck out, yet seeing this young man hardly able to wash properly in this musty place... It made her feel quite disgusted with herself.


As he spoke up next, however, she was actually visibly surprised. Gentle blue eyes widening a tad, her mouth parted as her chin tilted to look in his direction. He was serious, then? Some relief warmed her, for at least infection would be avoided this way. That he would use the ointment was the most basic of her wishes for him, but this seemed to be going a tad better than she had initially thought. Perhaps he didn't fully blame her after all. Shouldn't he, though? "It's the very least I can do." She replied with a small smile, hesitant as she grabbed the small metal tin of ointment and slowly shifted herself to sit closer beside him. "Thank you, for allowing me." She added after a moment, aware that he had no reason to trust her, but glad at the same time that he gave her that small allowance.


In the light, the young woman finally saw his form fully once more. She could see the bits of abuse left on his body, the sorry lack of clothing he'd been left in. Averting her gaze for a moment, she found guilt again drawing her hands to shaking, and a much smaller part of her embarrassed. Yet, this was something she still wished to do. So, clearing her throat a little as she thought of his request, she gently dipped two of her fingers into the ointment, scooping some small amount between them before studying the gash on his cheek. Blocking out her memory of the slap her mother delivered there, she took in a deep breath and gently began by dabbing the ointment onto the gash itself.


At his request, she was a bit drawn back, for it was a truly a rather simple one. Yet, he wouldn't know of her plans to do so, so why wouldn't he ask? "I assure you, I'll make sure you receive clean clothing tomorrow morning. My attendant will also bring water and perhaps some minimal food, as no one will know about my visit." She explained calmly, then biting her lip as she considered his last few words. "Thank you, yet..." What could she say? She didn't mean for him to need to work so hard to live? She didn't wish for him to need to stay? Those were dangerous thoughts for a princess here. Instead, sighing softly, she finished more simply, "I am so very sorry that this has happened to you."


Running her fingers tenderly across the flesh of his cheek, she spread the ointment gently along the gash to ensure it was covered before wiping off a bit of left over grime from the man's cheek. His skin of his cheek was smooth beneath her fingertips, the gash a mark on an otherwise rather handsome face. Withdrawing her hand from him once she had covered the area liberally, she returned her hands to her lap and spoke up calmly, "That should help it close up by the morning."


"I-- am not sure yet what you will have to do tomorrow. I hope to make the tasks simple yet enough for my mother to relinquish your care to me. I know this most likely won't give you any comfort, but I will try." She spoke in the attempt to reassure him if possible, one of her hands gently running back through her hair as she spoke in thought, eyes upon her basket.

 

[Sapphira]

Sylvestre couldn't help but trust her the more they shared the small prison cell. He knew he was being completely rude to Adelaide, but she responded with nothing but kindness. She could be faking, trying to gain his approval to hurt him worse later. Maybe he was being naive, but there was something; a certain sadness that he felt he understood. The prince's only wish at the moment was to leave this place behind and somewhere in the princess's delicate features, he saw the same wish. It appeared that she felt guilty about the state he was in and though he didn't want her pity, it made him feel better that she didn't take any pleasure in what his mother had done with her rings. He hoped the ointment would help the wound heal without too much of a scar, not wanting a reminder of the ordeal.


Adelaide's eagerness to fulfill his request surprised the prince who looked forward to having clean clothes in a short while. His previous outfit was probably long gone, sold off to the highest bidder. The fine material was worth a bundle and in addition the golden chains and embellishments would also fetch a hefty price. He knew he wouldn't be wearing such finery in the coming hours, but anything would be better than his briefs that smelled of horse shit. How could she stand being near him and yet the princess hadn't recoiled in the slightest. She even thanked him for letting her apply the healing cream, though she was the one doing him a great service. However, he wasn't sure he could completely forgive her due to certain future transgressions. She was the mistress of his suffering.


"You did what you thought best to save my life. I thank you for your hospitality." Faces less than a foot apart, he wanted to look into her eyes, but he fought the urge. The touch of her fingers on his cheek sent shivers through him. He sat still as stone, enjoying her gentleness and the soothing coolness of the ointment. Most of the pain ebbed away the longer it absorbed into his skin. Slightly incredulous of how much better the gash already felt, the prince let a grin escape. She still sat close, but he made no move to distance them again.


His eyes ventured up to her face for the first time during their visit. The dim light of the candle turned them a steely blue gray. Smile lingering for a while longer, it finally dissipated at the mention of tomorrow's tasks. Back to reality. He couldn't get too close to Adelaide. It would only complicate matters, he thought to himself as he moved away back into the shadows.


"I trust that you will continue to do what you think is best."

 

[TommyCat]

Hospitality. The word rung through Adelaide's mind, echoing off into memories of past guests. None were treated kindly, even if they arrived by invitation, yet she knew they deserved better. This man here deserved better. Whether or not he was truly a threat to her kingdom, the young woman was unsure, though she was by her age quite dubious of anything her mother claimed. It was sorting out the truth in people that was difficult. Yet, this man had just thanked her for her hospitality. She couldn't help but questioned if she deserved that. She was quite grateful for the kind words that came as a surprise to her, but they also sickened her in a way.


Eyebrows creasing slightly in the middle of her forehead, she let out a soft sigh. Perhaps another family would be treating this man quite lavishly. In her mind, when a guest arrived and was properly received, there should have been a banquet. There should have been musical fanfare, a generous spread of food, cheering and dancing the streets... Instead here she sat, quietly biting her lip at the sorrowful reminder that this kingdom was no such host. Adelaide didn't remember a single day that had been spent with that much cheer. There may be glimmers of happy atmosphere in her childhood, yet they were faded fantasies now. Her gaze hesitantly shifted to catch his grin, yet she hardly had the heart to return such a thing. It was a warm addition to an otherwise handsome face, but her thoughts dwelled far too long on the vision of this man as he should be for her to reconcile why she deserved a smile. Shouldn't a prince be dressed in the finest clothing, with quality metal pendants and chains, all fresh and clean as was intended?


Her slender fingers balled into small fists as she bunched her dress' fabric into her hands from her lap. Her thoughts ran rampant, searching for solutions, searching for anything. In this mindset, the princess would normally flee the castle in search of from solace, but doing that would hardly help her with dealing justice for the prince. Something more would have to be done. "I... Should bid you a goodnight for now." She spoke quietly, thinking for a moment about apologizing again, yet stopping herself and swiftly standing instead. Gazing at his form for a moment as he had shifted back into the shadows, she oddly paused to do a rushed curtsy towards him before pulling the cloak back up over her dark curls to leave the dungeons.


As promised, a male attendant of Adelaide's would come to meet the prince in the early hours of the morning with fresh clothes. They weren't of the best quality, but they were of at least servant quality, modest and clean, and also brought along with shoes. The attendant also brought a small basin of water to wash the young man with, though there was no promise in being gentle with his motions. The young man would simply wish to get his job done before asking a guard to escort the prince to breakfast in the grand dining hall, as per Adelaide's orders. The young princess has already dismissed her tutor for the day and sat at the end of the lengthy table alone, accompanied by the long rows of empty chairs typical of her meals. No one in sight, except the odd guard or two shifting from the shadows. Before her sat a plate of steaming food: well-cooked eggs with vegetables and poultry, paired with some freshly baked breads and pastries. The young lady, however, touched only the cup of tea sitting at her side for now, stirring it idly as her gaze swept stoically off across the dimly lit room. Even in the morning, the castle was quite the gloomy place. It was of no surprise to her that she often craved the outdoors.


The young lady had demanded her tutor leave for the day following her explanation to him of what she had planned. All, of course, decided upon by the basis that she didn't wish for him to be left alone. Being alone here was dangerous; at her side, he stood a chance. The queen would refrain from torturing him if she saw her daughter doing well, her tutor wouldn't give her suggestions of torture if she thought of her own, and no one else living nearby could harm the man if he was in her care. It was the perfect plan. Except, it still required her to display her intent of breaking his pride. Killing him with humility. Downtrodden and slumping slightly forwards in her chair, she sat in wait of the prince. His spot at the table? A shabby pillow, placed on the floor at her side. He was to eat like a dog-- no utensils, and none of the same quality of food. That was her first devised plan for the day. This way, he got to eat, and at least this should seem better than another hour of manual labor.


Yet, demanding her privacy while allowing the guards to stand nearby, she had been clear that it was her sole duty to harm the young man. This both thrilled her mother, and both terrified and relieved Adelaide all at once.

 

[Sapphira]

He bid her good night from the shadows and was left once again to his solitude; to dark thoughts that kept him from falling asleep. How long would he have to endure such ramshackle accommodations? Would he be able to get away? Doubts ate at him, but he couldn't let all hope slip through his grasp. Trying to keep his resolve strong, he began to formulate a plan. Adelaide would be his mistress and he would obediently complete every task she set before him. His trials would most likely gain him access to different parts of the castle and once he learned his way around, he would escape into the woods beyond. It would be a long journey on foot back to Zephyrhills, so he would probably have to steal a horse. His best bet would be to use the cover of night to minimize discovery. With his plan circling his mind on repeat, he finally began to drift off.


Sleep finally took him to strange places. Adelaide was there in a black dress, looking nothing like herself. It was tight and strappy, splits up the sides, revealing delicate long legs. He was on his knees before her staring up into her glare. Harsh words came from her mouth, ordering him to lick her knee high stiletto boot. She held a whip in her hand and he knelt forward and touched his tongue to the tip of her shoe out of fear. She began to cackle like the fairytale witches his tutor had warned him of and her face turned into her mother's. Dagger suddenly in hand she lunged toward him, trying to finally kill him. Before she could finish the deed, torchlight invaded his nightmare, prodding him awake.


He woke with a start to rough hands pulling him from the uncomfortable little cot. The only greeting he received was the cold air hitting his naked arse. The attendant given the task of cleaning him up took a large bath brush, dipped it in a bucket full of suds and abrasively scrubbed away the dirt. Sylvestre cupped his valuables, grunting as if his skin were being scraped off. Just when he couldn't take anymore, he was saved by a stream of icy water falling over his head. A towel was thrown to him and his change of clothes was laid out on the cot. The attendant turned around to give him privacy. Using the towel to dry off as much as he could, he gladly donned his new scratchy monochrome outfit. Now he looked liked any other servant. Maybe he would be able to blend in and eventually escape.


He was lead by a castle guard to a large dining hall. The princess sat waiting at the end of a long table. Trays of food were arranged neatly around her, confusing Sylvestre who thought they would share the feast. He reached for the chair to her right before his palace guard escort shoved him to the ground before a shabby pillow. "This is where you eat, dog!" the soldier shouted down at him.


Sylvestre sighed and sat down on the pillow, bowing his head in submission. A bowl of food was sat before him. It was some concoction of meat gravy and a stale roll. With no utensils, he picked up the bread and dipped it into the jelly like sauce and took a bite. His meal was bland with very little seasoning, but he ate every drop. Looking up to Adelaide after he was finished, he wondered why her food was untouched. In the light of morning, a fresh pink scar graced his cheek. The wound had nearly healed while he slept. Would her mother notice? Perhaps it would be best if he remained in the care of the princess.


"What shall you have me do today, your highness?"

 

[TommyCat]

Dazed, Adelaide's gaze focused on the visions of another life in the dim distance of the dining hall, light blue eyes shining wistfully in the minimal lighting. Daydreams of her younger years, with plentiful time outside and the presence of her loving father danced through her mind. White dresses wet with grass stains, warm hugs by the large, fur-clad man... the sunshine seemed all too bright in her dreaming. Her mother had turned quite the new leaf after her father's death. Feeling the sunshine dancing across her skin as she once had was now a rare occurrence, and the warmth and love she once knew from the late king was just a vague memory. The young princess was now only to be occupied by lessons, reading, spending time in the castle as more of a prisoner than a member of royalty. Her mother's paranoia and sick distortion made Adelaide a vision of purity in her mind, though she had not often been fond of the girl's lack of malice towards the supposed 'enemies' she has captured throughout the years.


The queen's vision of Adelaide was of a delicate flower, unable to move on its own and in need of protection-- that is why the young lady was so well-tended and kept in careful solitude. Dressed in soft pastels and laces, often adorned in flowers, the young lady was the quintessential picture of innocence that her mother quite often preached about to the public. However, this new spark of cruelty the queen sensed in her daughter created a slightly different image. The delicate flower had bloomed into something grotesque and harsh-- it could work on its own, without tutoring, and manage to dress itself. While the vision of innocence had began to tarnish in the queen's mind, Adelaide's own untainted mind whirred in quiet desperation at the dining table. Could she continue this facade? Or would she turn and become just as demented...


Biting her lip, rather frightened of the idea, Adelaide nearly drew blood before releasing it in the startling realization that the prince had entered the hall. The young woman was not quite herself today; her mind clearly elsewhere. Sighing softly as she cursed herself for drifting so far from reality, her gaze slowly moved to the man being pushed onto the pillow at her side. Her stomach turned. This was her doing, and what was more, she had to concoct other duties for him to tend to. Her silverware seemed all too heavy for her to deal with with these thoughts. Only managing to continue dully stirring the tea before her, spoon gently impacting the sides every few seconds, her slender wrist paused its motions only as she was addressed. Eyebrows knitting together slightly, her slender fingers dropped the spoon into her cup and retreated from the table altogether. Raising her hands instead to her hair, fingers brushing through its curled ends where little white flowers had been put in, Adelaide had a hard time finding her voice.





"I am still trying to--" She paused suddenly, gaze finally finding the man's face and trailing along the soft pink scar curving along his cheek. Gut tugging frustratedly at her insides, Adelaide's dulled expression twisted into that of concern. "I am working on it still." She decided hesitantly, voice low and honest as she knew others of importance would not be watching. At least, not at this point. She would need to take care of watching eyes and ears. Where best to do so?





"We start in the library." Adelaide spoke calmly, decisive as she stood from her uneaten meal, having seen that the prince finished his. Sending a hesitant grin in his direction, she motioned for him to follow. The guard that had escorted him here made a move to grab him once more, but she flattened her facial expressions to deal with the man. Staring him down seriously, she shook her head once. "A man can move on his own. Do him no favors." She explained to the guard, who stepped back and would allow her orders to be such. A servant could move without a guard's help-- that was the rhetoric behind it. Of course, Adelaide would just prefer not seeing further harm come to him. Her blue, steady eyes would remain gently upon him until he was ready to move on down the hall after her.

 

[Sapphira]

Sylvestre couldn't help but notice the frightened deer look in Adelaide's eyes. He wanted to ask her what was troubling her, but wasn't sure of the audience. Would they report their interactions to the queen? The prince didn't want to put them both in an ever more hopeless situation. Keeping quiet, he awaited her answer, but she seemed to be at a loss. Was it actually hard for her to fulfill her task? The act she had put on the previous day had him convinced of her cruelty. However, the more time he spent around her, the more he began to believe she possessed a kind heart. He could tell she was stalling for time when she mentioned the library. Spirits lifting a little at the mention of books, he didn't mind a tour through the stacks.


All at once, it felt like a hole was ripping through Sylvestre's heart. Home was all too far away, and his return nowhere in sight. He missed his father and mother who loved him dearly, but their vast collection of literature came in a close second. Growing up the only child and heir of Zephyrhills had been lonely. The stories he read and studied became his window to the world beyond the walls. The young prince had dreamed of sailing the open sea and travelling to foreign lands full of mystery. Unfortunately, the King and Queen were fiercely protective of their son and kept him close. He was only allowed to travel into the woods surrounding the castle and always had to be escorted by a small army. Feeling suffocated by their tight leash, he opted to spend most his time hunched over in one of the settees in the grand library.


Now in dire straits, the prince wondered if there was a secret reason to his parent's restriction. Had they known he was the target of the enemy queen and if so why hadn't they told him? Knowledge was supposed to impart wisdom, but they didn't trust him to be able to handle something so important. Of course, his worries were speculation, but he couldn't help feeling a little hurt anyway. As he rose to follow Adelaide, his palace escort stood over him looking as though he was about to drag the prince through the halls. Sylvestre reacted instinctively, holding an arm up to protect himself and possibly push the incessant nag away. When the princess intervened, he breathed a sigh of relief. The guard appeared livid at being chastened, but moved away obediently. The royal prisoner stood and made a show of brushing himself off in front of the soldier before turning to Adelaide. He returned her gaze, lingering a bit too long. She was lovely in the morning light, dark curls framing her face and bringing out the blue of her irises. Clothes so much finer than the peasant uniform he wore, he couldn't help feeling inferior. Sinking to one knee before her, he bowed respectfully.


"After you, your majesty." He rose to his feet, ready to follow the princess to the library. He knew bowing was a bit over the top, but if she was going to act out of character to keep him alive, he had to play the role of obedient slave for now. Plan still circling his thoughts in case it turned out she was deceiving him, Sylvestre felt ready to face whatever chore the princess came up with. It was only a matter of waiting until the right moment, when they assumed his pride was dead and he was fully under their control. He vowed to never reach that point, though he knew it would be difficult times ahead. He would return to Zephyrhills or die in the attempt. Praying for the former, he swallowed his nerves and looked up at her expectantly.

 

[TommyCat]

The lack of response from Sylvestre at first irked Adelaide, who was made suddenly quite self-conscious of her own hesitance in this. She had to be decisive, clever, confident if she were to get through this and keep this man alive. For her own sake, but also for him. Perhaps she needed to work on that. Despite her performance the day prior, the young woman did not start off with the most threatening of appearances today. Did the guards need to be seen this side of her continuously? As that little voice of question rose in her mind, Adelaide was caught off guard by the gaze resting upon her. Made aware that their eyes had made contact, she held it for a few moments, intrigued. He didn't appear to look upon her with hatred-- instead, there was a look there that made her heart flutter just a tad. Even as he bent a knee to her, her gaze tracing his features for just a moment, Adelaide found herself drawn in. His current clothing may not suit him, and the act was far too humble for a prince, but she found those icy blue eyes just stunning in contrast to his rich brown hair. She nearly forgot the gesture he was making.


Yet, Adelaide was not quite distracted for long enough to ignore it altogether. Eyes widening just a tad as he stood from the bow, she tried her best to quickly settle her surprise and meet it with a mere nod before turning away. Sending a proud, self-satisfied smile to the nearest guards, she would make her way down the hall a bit briskly, wishing to be out from under their watchful gaze. Perhaps what they saw would matter-- but it may not. It was hard to say with her mother. Seeing him bow reminded her of this fact, so she was sure to stand straight and maintain a pleased appearance, though on the inside her heart had sunk just a bit more. Still, that moment of their eyes' connection lingered in memory... It was an odd mixture of feeling, enough to make her both a bit disgusted yet draw her heart to thrumming warmly in her chest. Adelaide's head spun with thought as she opened the sturdy wooden door to the expansive library, closing it behind them with a resounding clunk.


There. Alone. Sunlight trickled in through the high, narrow windows lining one side of the room, casting shadows that mingled with rays of warmth across the extensive array of shelves. In the center of the room along the wall of windows was a quaint set-up of a study, meant for the princess, and crafted finely with lush pillows and room for few to sit. Stacks of books were set up neatly upon the desk there, many of which for her studies, but a select few chosen for her delight. The young princess took pleasure in visiting the library-- like the wood, it was a method of escape. It was a quiet, non-threatening place to rest. Thoughtfully, Adelaide turned to the door for a moment, fingers gently moving to slide the lock into place. Then, resting her back gently upon the door, her lips parted in a soft sigh of relief. Guards stood not feet from the door, but didn't enter: this library was her place, and extra eyes had always distracted her. After a moment of resting her hand gently upon her chest to calm her heart and relax from the lack of foreign eyes, Adelaide would finally stand up straight and regard Sylvestre with a small smile.





"Thank you, for cooperating. I hope to spend a good portion of the day here... We do need to make it appear as though work was done, though I don't intend to make you strain." Moving casually to the study tables, she would find buckets of water and rags, meant for the prince as he worked. Recalling this morning when she had spoken to her tutor and named the items of the prince's labor, Adelaide frowned for a moment at her own words. "I'll bide my time knocking the books off one by one-- he can watch this. I'll ask him to pick them up. Off they go again, oh it'll be delightful!" Scrunching her nose and banishing her memory of the morning with distaste, Adelaide found herself biting her bottom lip. She may have acted as her mother, but she was certainly not the same woman. She had clearly not meant those words. She knew she should not have to remind herself, but she couldn't help doing so. They helped ease her fears just a tad.


"I had told them you would be cleaning the shelves and picking up books for hours..." She explained softly, almost ashamed at the thought, but still grinning as she turned to look at the prince for a moment from over her shoulder. "Instead, why don't we just wipe the shelves? We can relax after the dust is gone from most of them, they won't know the difference." She suggested casually, grabbing one of the rags herself and carefully dampening it within a bucket. She had no qualms with doing some work herself, especially if it helped their situation, though she would need to continue to be careful. They may be completely alone, but if anyone saw her...


Shaking her head a little, Adelaide then suddenly drew her gaze over the freshly scarred cheek of his. Having caught sight of it earlier already, she hadn't made comment, yet now with no one around she felt her words already forming before she thought. "Are you.. in pain? I mean, does your cheek hurt?" She asked quietly, eyebrows knitting together slightly as it appeared her efforts with the ointment may not have done as well as hoped. Her fingers itched to touch the mark again, an odd sensation, but they were somehow drawn to the memory of running along his cheek last night. Curling at her side, she closed her hands into fists, one gently clutching a rag as she peeled her gaze away from him in order to sit before the nearest bookcase, her back to him yet listening for a response. "My attendant this morning, did they treat you alright?" She added, not wishing to be over-bearing, yet concern clear in her delicate tone. She couldn't do much for this man, yet Adelaide was quite aware that she was responsible for him. As the princess, she was responsible for whatever pains he would go through.

 

[Sapphira]

He followed behind Adelaide down the hall, quiet and contemplative. She moved briskly, her skirt swishing from side to side. He watched the back of her head, ringlets coiling gently down the curve of her spine. They passed many palace guards along the way and he tried his best to avoid eye contact, keeping his feelings of giddiness in check until they reached the library. When she opened the door and he stepped through, a look of fondness lit his eyes and a wide smile graced his lips. The vast collection of books was impressive, maybe more so than his parent's stash back home. He wanted to search for a good read and plop down on one of the cushions for the rest of the day, but duty called and he had his work cut out for him.


She offered to help him with his task for the day, sending a look of shock to his face. She was a princess, but didn't seem to mind getting her hands dirty, a trait he admired. Many of the noble women from Zephyrhills pranced around like they were God's gift to the earth, throwing a tantrum when they broke a nail. He hated that sort of unwarranted pretension, which was the main reason he had been so hesitant choosing a bride from the pool of prissy candidates. "No problem, m'lady. I figured it would be better that I act appropriately, though I'm not sure it would be the best idea if you helped me. What if you sully your clothing or someone walks in and catches you helping me? That wouldn't bode well for either of us. I greatly appreciate the offer, though," he added the last bit hoping he hadn't offended her.


He saw the look of concern on her face about his scar and took a step closer, stopping in front of the bucket of water. "I assure you I feel no pain. That ointment worked like magic. It would have taken days to heal on its own. As for the attendant... he got the job done," the prince said trying to set her at ease. He smiled and grabbed a soaked rag. Ringing it out until it was no longer dripping, he began the task of cleaning off the shelves. He put the rag over his shoulder not caring if his shirt got a little wet. The first section he came upon was full of texts about the history of Adelaide's country. There was a small step stool nearby and he brought it over. Starting with the top shelf, he moved books out of the way, resting them on the floor temporarily. Every now and then he would stop at an interesting title and peak inside, not being able to resist temptation. The pictures and descriptions of traditions made him think about how it must have been growing up for the princess. Did they share a similar past?


"I practically lived in the library as a child. My parents rarely let me leave the castle." He left the comment floating in the air, not really knowing what to say next. He wanted to get to know her, find out who she was under all the flowers and frilly dresses, but felt as if he had nothing to offer. His life had been pretty dull until now, but that would change when he returned. It could all end in an instant, so he would make a life for himself. He would venture out into the world more, try new things. He would make his parents understand that he could make his own choices about what to do with his life. Feeling silly about his serious thoughts and not sure if he could share his hopes for the future with a stranger, he stayed quiet for a while. "What was it like growing up here?" the prince asked, changing the subject.

 

[TommyCat]

Even with the regret of bringing Sylvestre there with the intent to have him work, Adelaide forgot such notions as she caught sight of the man's face brightening. He seemed sincerely, completely happy for just a moment then. His smile seemed unburdened, and certainly not forced. The princess couldn't help but stare for the moments that it lasted, gaze magnetized to the handsome curve of his lips. When she found herself in need of responding to him and having been dazed just a tad, she quickly noted the warm smile gracing her own lips before letting out a soft sigh. Perhaps this could have been a fond visit for him, in other circumstances-- this vision of a different life returned to her as she pictured a guest truly delighting in this library. She could have read alongside them under the sunlit cushions under the sky turned red above their heads, enjoying the expanses the room had to offer...


Yet, here they were. The fist she had clenched with the rag inside loosened at his suggestion, doubt gripping her as her smile dissipated. Eyebrows scrunching together slightly, she noted that just from holding the rag, her hands were left with just a touch of dirt. Her dress would tell if she helped him out, surely. Looking down at the white, shimmery fabric, Adelaide frowned slightly. "You're surely right, there. I do not have faith I wouldn't dirty myself in the process. As for getting caught, I do highly doubt any others would enter this room, it is meant for my study. Others don't use the space, unfortunately." She explained with thought, setting the rag down with some sense of defeat before allowing her gaze to wander about the room, lingering on the lush sofa lined with pillows. She'd spent many days lying there buried in adventures or readings from her tutor, but never with another person. No friends, no court members, and certainly no family. Her mother didn't often spend any of her time idly, as she would say.





"I am glad it was of some help." Adelaide replied with a small smile of her own, though she didn't find it's effects on him to be magical at all. There was still a scar there-- pain or not. His face would remind him of this even after his departure. Wait a moment. Inwardly cringing at the notion of her having mistaken him for a guest, Adelaide bit the inside of her cheek frustratedly. Of course, he was not able to leave. Was there truly no circumstance in which he could? She knew the queen's track record. The vast majority of prisoners would die here. In fact, even many loyal servants had died here, regardless of their use. The queen's anger was a fickle thing. Shaking her head a little to banish the notion of the prince ending up as such, Adelaide instead focused on how he occasionally appeared to take interest in a book or two. He wouldn't spend long on them still, yet he did flip open enough covers for her to notice. Tilting her head with some curiosity at the sight, she wandered if reading was something he took interest in. Would they have read the same things?





"I will at least take care of stacking the books for you, then." She spoke with some decisiveness, noting how he stacked the books on the floor at first before she moved to grab a nearby chair. Setting it beside the stool he was using to step up on, she wouldn't hesitate to pass any books down for him to place in neat stacks upon the chair instead of the floor. Even if doing such wasn't of the most help she could manage, it was still something she could bide her time doing, and being able to assist him just a bit did ease her heavy heart. Hearing his short bit of information, Adelaide took interest in the idea of him also having spent much time in a library, trying to picture it as he spoke. Was that not somewhat similar to her own situation? She was always trying to find ways outside, into the wood, sneaking into nature when possible to avoid the stifling atmosphere. Yet, being allowed outside was another subject. It simply didn't happen, except for visits to the stables.


Pausing with a book in her hands as he spoke up to ask about her, Adelaide was caught off guard by the question. It was rather personal, no? Or, rather, was this normal between the average person? Unsure of how to answer exactly, she settled for continuing her stacking for a quiet moment and thinking. "It was quite different, when I was younger." She began testingly, not wishing to tread dangerous waters and deem her life unsatisfactory (blasphemy, in the queen's eyes), but oddly feeling obligated to be honest. Adelaide wished to be sincere with him, even if she was required to act otherwise in front of others. "My father was a warm, understanding man. I spent much time exploring the woods with him when I was younger. We would take horses out to a riverbed and have a picnic under the trees... He'd read to me and teach me little things." She explained calmly, voice taking on a bit of nostalgia as her mind drifted backwards a bit. Her memories were vague, but there were some clear images left there. Only a handful remained after the drastic change under her mother.





"My mother has changed in many ways, in the years since his passing. I was not allowed outside, except for riding lessons. Much of my day is dedicated to studying in here, or attending my mother's hearings or meetings." Adelaide's voice drew a tad quieter at the mention of these events, distaste coming over her features as her stomach twisted unpleasantly. The hearings were often held for 'traitors' of the kingdom, often prisoners who were to end by being 'put to justice' under the sword. They were not glamorous affairs, though many living here would beg to disagree. "Living here has been quite the same since then. I usually do what I can to avoid my mother's affairs, like this." She explained the last bit with some hesitance, referring to her taking over of his punishment. The queen usually dealt with these things personally. In fact, at the moment, she was dealing with several other prisoners at a time. "What was it like for you, in your kingdom?" She asked without prior thought, merely curious and finding herself wishing to relate to him.


A moment later after some realization, however, she became a bit flustered with herself, "I apologize, if you'd rather not speak of it, by all means you have no need to." She added, not wishing to make him speak of his home while he seems doomed to live his days out here. It was a grotesque picture for a prince's life in Adelaide's eyes, one she didn't wish to focus on, but after the initial consideration that he couldn't leave, the idea was fair game for her thoughts.

 

[Sapphira]

The library was calm and quiet and Sylvestre quickly began to lose himself in the easy work. Adelaide looked angelic and ethereal in her sparkly white dress. Not being able to keep his eyes from straying to her every now and then, the prince almost laughed when she looked disappointed about not being able to help him. He was sure there was no other princess on the planet who got upset about not being able to clean. If he weren't so thankful for not having to muck out the stables again, he might be slightly annoyed about having to scrub the dusty shelves himself. He was just about to tell her not to worry when she found a way to be of assistance. Not having to pile the books on the floor was a big help, so he wouldn't have to keep stepping down off the ladder. He smiled and began passing books to the princess so she could stack them on the chair she brought over.


Though, she reassured him that no one would enter the library, he was still a little skeptical. He didn't doubt her, more he doubted the trust the guards felt toward him. His was a stranger and an enemy prince no less, alone in the library with the princess. He knew if anything happened to her, he would be blamed and most likely punished harshly. He didn't want to take any chances and was happy she played it safe by being less hands on with the cleaning task. He listened to her talk about her younger years and couldn't help noticing some of the similarities between their childhoods. When she mentioned the death of her father, a sad look came over his face. "I know it was a long time ago, but I'm sorry for your loss," he said somberly respectful.


He could tell she didn't think the healing ointment had worked as well as it should, Adelaide's expression still full of concern every time she looked at the scar her mother left. Though it hadn't been her doing, it appeared she felt responsible. He wish he knew of some way to cheer her up, for she had helped him tremendously. The wound no longer ached or reminded him of the slap the queen had dealt him. It was almost like it had never happened. Almost... He couldn't quite shake the image out of his head yet. Sighing, trying to clear his head of troublesome memories, it took a moment for him to realize she had asked him about his kingdom.


Her question made him uneasy, not because he found it too forward or prying, but because he felt he had nothing interesting to say. His childhood had been pretty dull. The thought that he was being inappropriate never entered his mind until she apologized. Though, he had learned proper etiquette, he hadn't had much real world experience, living the sheltered life. "I apologize if I was being too forward. I kind of say whatever pops into my head. Feel free to let me know if I've gone too far," he said to clear the air before answering her question. "Growing up in Zephyrhills was pretty uneventful. My father used to take me out on hunting expeditions when I became restless from being in the castle. Those were some of my favorite days. He looked so unburdened and free, not like the king, but just my father. I would ask him about the adventures he used to go on in his youth and he would recount his younger years. Those days were filled with laughter and freedom, but as time passed, my father grew older and busier. The hunting trips were replaced by grand masquerades and meetings with all the right people. In other words, my childhood was boring," he said laughing off the little bit of sadness he felt inside.


He used to live for the days the king would take him out of the castle walls. The details came back to him as he recounted their excursions. Clear skies, the rush of wind through his hair as the horses galloped through the trees. His father had taught him how to use a bow and arrow, claiming that the rifles scared off all the prey. It had been tricky, but eventually the prince got the hang of it and was even able to catch a few rabbits. After a whole year had passed without them going hunting together, Sylvestre had begged his father to take him riding again. "You are old enough to go out on your own now. Make sure to take your escort and be back before sundown," the king had responded either not noticing or ignoring the disappointment on his son's face. Sylvestre never brought the subject up again after that and though he still went hunting to get fresh air every now and again, it wasn't as enjoyable alone.