Andyarana - Welcome To My World

The Accidental Princess (Part 9)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony

Chapter Synopsis: You face the consequences of your words and actions

Word Count: 11.6k words

Warnings: period-typical misogyny, mentions of poison and murder, i took liberties with the action of some poisons so they're not as accurate as they should be (especially for foxglove), angst, if i missed smth lmk :)

A/N: Hey everyone! Still a big thank you to everyone reading this story! I appreciate your comments and reviews of the story! Don't hesitate to drop more of them (and to reblog!) So, yeah. Here's Part 9 of TAP. Enjoy! (it's also tagged for exposure, if you see that many tags. Sorry if I bombard the tags with my story 😔 )

Main Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

The only time you had felt immense pain was when your horse nearly trampled you. You were a small child then, barely into your adolescent years when your father decided it was the best time for you to learn how to ride a horse. You knew those creatures were temperamental—you had seen one almost bite off a stable hand’s fingers when he was not quick to feed it—but you had not realized that even the tamest of them could have the mood of mighty, angry wave. One moment you were seated atop the horse, and the next, you were under the giant animal, with your cheek bleeding from where its hooves had come into contact.

That pain was forgettable. It was physical. It needed only a physician’s hand to mend your cheek, a bowl of hot soup from Cook to cool your chilling bones, and a month of sleep with your nursemaid in your chambers for you to forget the whole ordeal.

But this pain…

“The Magistrate has granted your divorce.”

It burrowed deep within you, laid its claim in the depths of your soul, and stayed there to fester so quickly. The bleakness that came from it cooled your body, down to the very tips of your fingers and toes. You felt very cold from within despite the warmth of the fireplace behind you. The cold gripped your lungs and each breath felt like knives to your lungs and your throat.

But despite all of this, it was the ache that made you want to lose consciousness. Your thoughts were wild. Your ears heard phantom screams of despair. Your heart, crying, breaking, crumbling… until it was no more but the hollow shell of the love that kept on fighting.

No amount of hot soup or healing salve or companionship would ever take this immense pain away. No physical solution would clear you of it. There was nothing to heal you from this damnable emotional pain.

Why now? Why did it happen when you finally allowed yourself to admit your love for your husband—

No.

He was not your husband anymore.

You were divorced.

Your marriage was dissolved. There was nothing more for you and Kit, despite telling each other you loved one another.

What you wanted for today was merely simple. You wanted a day with Kit, a day to do everything your heart desired. It was why you confessed that you were ardently in love with him. You did not want to reminisce on the day and regret not having told him of how you truly felt for him. But you did—you had—and now the world was punishing you for it. You wanted a good memory, not one that you would love and loathe all at once.

“Father—” You heard Kit say beside you.

“Miss Y/N had been instrumental in obtaining the divorce. She has given us her word that your marriage had not been consummated and thus, the Magistrate did not think twice to dissolve any union between the two of you.” The king said proudly.

You looked at Kit, at the confusion on his face, and swallowed painfully. He had no idea of what the king had asked you days past. His father had kept it from him and now…

Now you were made to be the villain for leading the prince along with your declaration of love.

You should have seen it happening. You saw the prideful look about the Grand Duke’s face, at how smug he wore it, and the relieved emotion on the king’s when you had entered the Great Study. Those in themselves would have told you that they had gotten what they had wanted.

You had been nothing but a thorn on their sides and now that they had plucked you, they were free to dispose of you.

“You shall be married immediately, of course. We shall have a contract drawn up with your name and the Princess Chelina’s—”

The voices swirled about you. They were saying words, words you knew but could not comprehend. The fire crackled too loudly. The shelves that teemed with books felt too stifling. The grandiose of the Study felt far too grand for someone who had suddenly become inconsequential.

Kit turned to you and in his eyes, you saw the disbelief in them. There was no betrayal like Louis’s had, nor was there anger. There was only confusion but also of understanding, of love and also pain.

“Why?” was all he asked.

The single word was your undoing.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you answered. “Because they asked me for it. There was nothing I could do. It was the right thing.”

“Damn the right thing!” Kit exclaimed. He gripped your arms now, pulling you closer to him, to his pained eyes, and implored of you. “Why?”

“Because I love you!” You shouted as more of your tears flowed. “Because I love you and I cannot bear the thought of your father being angry at you for loving me!”

He crushed you against him and kept your head on his heart that you heard beat furiously. You fought him off, trying your best to pry yourself from him because it hurt to be near him. It hurt that he was hurting for your fault. It was your doing, all of it was. You had caused everyone pain, including yourself.

“I love you,” you sobbed against his chest, surrendering in his embrace. “I truly do, Kit. I did it for you. I do not want you to carry the burden of your father’s anger. I do not want you to resent me for it.”

“I will never resent you,” he whispered against your hair. “I will never hate you for anything you had done or will do.”

“But you must!”

“Even if you ask me to, I will not. I will love you no matter what.”

You did not stop the wave of tears that came from you. There was no stopping the impossibly painful agony that wracked your whole body.

Was this how it was to love? Why did your father tell you it was the most wonderful thing in the world when all it did was bring you pain? Why did poets write praises of it if all you could hear were anguished cries that came from deep within you? Why did everyone say it was the best feeling in the world when all it did was hurt you in ways you could not imagine?

If you had known, you would not have allowed yourself to love. You would have stopped it in its course the moment you realized you were falling desperately in love with your husband.

No. He is no more your husband. You must stop referring to him as such.

From now on, he was your prince. The son of your monarch. The love of your life.

It was impossible to think him of as anything else but that.

You felt the pads of his thumb swipe below your eyes, wiping away the tears. His hand went to your chin to tilt your face up. You shut your eyes. You did not want to see them lest you started crying again.

“They see how I love you. I will insist that I will not marry Chelina because I want to marry you ag—”

You finally looked at him through your tears, to his own tears that pooled before his eyes. “No.”

“I will. I will continue fighting for you, for us. I—”

“Can’t you see? The world does not want us to be together! It finds a way to tear us apart!” You broke away from him, hugging yourself small, suddenly made aware of your surroundings.

You were still in the Great Study with Kit, with his father and the Grand Duke for an audience. You had bared your soul to the man you love—to the prince—for all the world to hear. They had seen what a madwoman you had become because of your heartbreak.

“But—”

You shook your head vehemently. Your knees trembled under you. With similarly shaking hands, you picked up your skirt and fled without so much as a word to the king and the prince. You sped from the Study, pushing open closed doors and people who had been too slow for your quick escape. You wanted to return to your room, to the only sanctuary you had in the palace but now did not belong in anymore. You want to be anywhere but there in the Study. Anywhere but the ache that emanated from the man you love.

You reached your chambers and you flung yourself on the bed, hoping the pillows suppressed the weeping that came from you. It was futile; the sobs that were wrenched from you echoed throughout your room. You could not stop, even if you wanted to. Could not put an end to the intense pain you were feeling.

Kit’s why rang throughout your head, asking you why you had condemned the both of you for the sake of being right.

Why did you have to be so pragmatic?

Why did you not allow yourself to have the things you wanted?

Why—

Why did you love someone you could not have?

You cried until you were empty of your tears but even then, you cried some more. You had not noticed Abigail enter your room, nor that she had led you to your bath. You only followed her lead, too consumed by your anguish to actively move on your own. Even when you wanted to thank Abigail for the extra care she took bathing you, you could not because anything that came out of your mouth was a sorry sob.

“Miss,” Abigail said when she had combed your hair.

You sat in front of your dressing table, spent from crying. You looked at your maid through the mirror, at her face that pitied you, and you gave her a weak smile.

“Yes, Abigail?”

“I know it is not in my position to ask, but I would want to know how I may help you.” She parted your hair into manageable portions and combed. “It breaks my heart to see you this… sorrowful, Miss. It is not you.”

Your eyes misted. You reached for a handkerchief and wiped the tears before they spilled. “I thank you for your concern, Abigail. Even when all we do is talk of menial things, you have become a friend to me.”

“You are far kinder than the other ladies I have served before, Miss. I have thought you a friend long before you have told me I am yours.”

You gave her a wet smile and dropped your face in your palms, crying.

“Is love supposed to hurt? Is it supposed to make you feel as though you are drowning with no salvation in sight?” You wept in your hands.

You felt Abigail’s gentle touch on the back of your head and heard her comforting murmurs. They were incoherent against your crying but you knew she meant well.

“Love is not without trials, Miss.” Abigail said when she resumed her task. “These trials, they are there for us to overcome if we truly love those that we love. We would not be moved into action if we do not deeply care for someone.”

You stayed quiet, only feeling the strokes of Abigail’s combing of your hair. You knew she had finished but she did not leave you. She remained by your side, doing repetitive tasks about you that soothed you.

“Abigail.” You called for her attention when she pulled out a dress from your trunk.

“You do not like this dress, Miss?” she asked as she showed you the garment in her hands.

It was a beautiful shade of pink, soft and innocent-looking. Your father had said it made you look like your mother whenever you wore it.

You did not say anything of the dress. “When you commented on me being the guest of the king, I had said my situation was uncommon.”

She nodded.

“It is because I am—was no other common guest of his.” You swallowed the hard lump on your throat. “I was the Prince’s wife.”

“Miss?”

You looked at the confused face of your maid and nodded. “For a while, I was the princess of the kingdom. I was married to Kit—to the Prince.”

You saw her start to drop into a deep curtsy.

You shook your head at her even though she could not see. “Please. Do not bow before me. I was the princess before. I no longer am, not anymore.”

“What has happened, Mi—Your Royal Highness? Is this why you weep?”

You nodded. You thought more tears would come but you had run dry. Despite wanting to keep on lamenting, you produced no more tears for your pitiful situation.

“I was here so the king may grant me and the prince a divorce. He has proved successful. My marriage is no more.” You fiddled with your hands, looking down on them on your lap. “I thought it would be an easy task. I thought I would not fall for my husband but I had. And when I freely admitted to myself and to him that I was undeniably in love with him, our divorce had been granted.”

“Oh, Miss.”

You looked at her. “I have never loved like I had with him, Abigail. I doubt I would ever love again.”

“I am sorry.”

You nodded sorrowfully. “So am I.”

Abigail decided it was for the best that you do not come down for dinner, what with your heartache and the idea of seeing Kit again would send you in a spiral of anguish and hurt. She had helped you into your sleeping garments and had put it upon herself to bring your dinner. When she was about to go, there was a knock on your door.

“Pet? I am here to bring you down to dinner.” Louis said from the other side of it.

“She shall be dining in her room, Your Grace.” Abigail said when she cracked the door wide enough to address your friend.

“The king demands that she come with us.”

“She is not well, Your Grace. She—”

“What’s wrong? Did she catch a cold?” Louis asked, concern evident in his voice. “Let me have a look at her.”

You were sat on your bed, helpless, when Abigail opened the door for Louis to enter. One look at you and he immediately crossed your room to sit beside you on your bed.

“Pet. What happened?” He took your hand in his and squeezed comfortingly.

“It is done, Louis.” You said, unfeeling. “Kit and I are no more.” You avoided looking into his eyes, at the sympathetic sorrow you would find there. You were a miserable sight, you knew of that, but you did not need reminding every now and then.

The moment you were engulfed in his arms, you once again erupted into tears. Your sobs were silent now but it did not mean the pain lessened. The intensity was one and the same and no matter how many tears you had cried, you knew the pain would remain.

You felt Louis’s lips brush against your temple before he pulled away to look into your eyes.

“I will tell the king that you are unwell.” He truly looked concerned. It was a wonder why you could not love Louis, who worried for your well-being and would rather he marry you to save you from a desolate fate without expecting much in return.

You shook your head. “No. I must come down if he demands it. I had been the subject of his ire before. I do not want it upon me again.”

“Are you sure, pet? He would be understanding—”

“I am sure, Louis. Let me just change into something suitable and we shall be down.”

Your words brooked no argument from the duke. When he left, you dressed albeit reluctantly. You did not care for your appearance but your maid made you look presentable despite the simple dress she had put you in. She replaced your bracelet on your wrist and worked on a hairstyle that was not quite elaborate nor quite simple. Abigail prolonged your getting ready for dinner, taking as much time as she could in a task that could be done so quick. You had assured her that you would be all right to be in his presence once again but even that declaration did not sound convincing to your ears.

You left your room in the arm of the duke and when you arrived at the dining room, there was an air of somberness about the place. The dark mood came from Kit and the Princess Chelina, both of whom are sat before each other on each side of the king. The Grand Duke was the only one who looked triumphant and gleeful, and he watched you with his hawkish stare that only made you shiver in disgust.

He had won in his suit to have you divorced from the prince. He wore it proudly on his face.

Louis pulled a seat for you beside him. You kept your head down as you sat, feeling the intensity of Kit’s eyes upon you. You could not face him, not so soon after both of your worlds crumbled by a mere declaration.

Dinner was a cheerless affair, despite the number of different foods on the table. There were more than the usual dishes, even special ones that looked foreign. It was, obviously, for the celebration of yours and the prince’s separation. The conversation was mundane and held no importance other than just to pass the time. Even Louis had no input to a topic he was knowledgeable of.

“The wedding date has been settled,” the king announced after some time. You knew it was directed at you.

You only heard the clanging of the utensils against the plates.

“You must attend, Miss Y/N.”

You froze in stirring your soup and looked up at the king, eyes passing over the princess. Princess Chelina’s face held pain—for you or for her, you did not know.

“Father—” There was an icy tone in Kit’s voice.

“Her father will attend. I shall be sending an invitation to him.” The king said nonchalantly. “It should be just right that she attend her future monarchs’ weddings, don’t you think?”

“Just so,” agreed the Grand Duke with a happy disposition.

“I have to ensure your attendance, Miss Y/N. You shall be kept here until the wedding. It will not be for another two weeks, or until the arrival of Princess Chelina’s parents.” The king’s words were unfeeling and commanding.

You did not know when you had started to develop a dislike for the king but it was made apparent in the way you aggressively stirred your soup.

“Shall we expect you at the wedding, child?” the monarch asked.

You gave a tight nod. “Yes, Your Majesty.” You said, clenching the spoon in your hand.

“Father, there is no need for you to be crass—”

“My mind is made, Kit.” The king said.

Dinner continued in silence, sometimes interrupted by scraping utensils and drinks being poured. No one else spoke since the king’s declaration that you remain in the palace until Kit’s wedding. The sad look was still on the princess’s face, Kit’s still held anguish in his and Louis—dear, sweet Louis—his face was merely blank. The four of you, you knew, had your hearts broken. Because of you.

“Father?”

You looked up again from your plate, and to the king who started to go puce in the face from the silent coughing he was doing. When he kept on coughing and had started to turn into a dangerous shade of blue, you knew he was choking.

“Your Majesty!” You exclaimed.

Your chair fell with a loud thud as you rose and rushed to the man’s side. You started to deliver blows on his back in attempt to dislodge whatever it was that blocked his throat. You gave blow by blow but he did not relent, still coughing and choking.

“Call the physician!” You heard Kit order.

Your eyes drifted on to the monarch’s plate to see how big a bite he had taken of the offending food when you saw the array of vegetables on it. His fork still speared the half-eaten parsnip but it was not that that caught your attention. It was the stem beside it; a green stem with purple splotches that seemed familiar to you. Your mind raced with possibilities of what that stem was and froze when you realized what it was.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but this is so I could save you.” You said to the coughing man before you plunged two of your fingers in his mouth.

“Y/N!” You heard people exclaim.

You paid them no heed, groping down the king’s throat in an attempt to make him vomit what he had eaten. Your other hand went to your waist, to where you usually kept the vials of emetic about you but you could not feel the pouch.

“Louis!” You called. “In my dresser table, there is a pink pouch. There should be two vials inside! Bring them to me!”

Hurried feet ran out of the dining room.

The king’s mouth clamped around your hand but you did not pull away despite how painful his teeth were against your skin. You still swirled your fingers about, hoping to induce him to retch.

“Remove your hand from his mouth at once!” The Grand Duke exclaimed.

You ignored the nobleman. To the others in the room, you ordered: “Get me mustard and castor oil from the kitchen! Quickly!”

Your fingers grazed the king’s uvula and you felt the king’s shoulders rise in preparation to retch.

“What are you standing there for?” Kit’s voice rang across the silent room. “Get her what she needs!”

You continued your ministrations to try to get the king to vomit but he kept at it. You were worried you were too late because he did not seem to want to throw up the poisonous root crop.

“Pet!”

You looked up to see Louis hand you your pouch. You pulled away from the king’s mouth. You hurriedly took it and pulled out the emetic, removing its stopper and poured its contents down the king’s throat.

Its effects were immediate. The moment the last drop of the emetic entered the king’s mouth, he started retching. You stepped away just in time for him to vomit. Chewed food spread on the dining room floor and by your feet. The king fell forward as he continued retching, expelling the contents of his stomach continuously.

“What did you do to the king!” The nobleman demanded.

You looked up to see him charging at you. You started backing away but Louis had blocked the man from nearing you. You peered from his shoulder, at the man whose face had been triumphant before but now was angry and irate.

“You will pay for what you did to the king!” he shouted.

“Your Majesty!”

You looked to see a new man enter—the physician, judging from the medical bag he brought with him—and near the king. The monarch had stopped vomiting and was held up by his son. His mouth was agape and he breathed heavily and noisily, tired from regurgitating the many a food he had taken.

“What has happened?” The physician asked as he examined the king.

“That woman forced her hand down the king’s throat!” The Grand Duke cried, pointing an accusatory finger at you behind Louis.

You shrunk behind Louis, away from the nobleman who suddenly seemed frightening to you.

“Will he be all right?” Kit asked.

“If he was not made to vomit, he would have choked and possibly have died.” The physician said as he assessed the king’s stomach contents that he had just retched.

“We must bring him to his chambers for a thorough examination.” The doctor declared. He turned to Louis but he addressed you. “Miss, I may need you to come with me. I may have a need to examine your hand if the king had grazed you with his teeth.”

It was only then that you were made aware of the raw flesh of your knuckles, on where the king had suddenly bit on you to make you stop. You looked at your hand, at the blood that oozed from tiny sites where his teeth had punctured your skin, and you hissed when you touched it.

“Are you all right, pet?” Louis asked, now having turned to you to take your hand.

“My hand is quite painful,” you said, watching as the footmen carried the king out of the dining room. The physician and Kit followed behind them.

Louis wrapped his kerchief lightly around your knuckles. He placed your hand gently on his arm and led you away from the dining room. You passed by the Grand Duke, saw his fiery gaze but shivered at the cold it sent your way.

It was hemlock. The purple splotches on the stem were undeniable of the plant. It looked similar to edible parsnips that it was almost impossible to tell them apart if not for the stem beside it.

You thought the nobleman bought the hemlock for you. You thought he was to poison you. Perhaps he still was, you thought to yourself. You had been too focused on your soup that you did not bother to eat anything else. If you had eaten the vegetable dish or if you hadn’t been aware of what the plant looked like, you would have been the victim and not the king.

You shivered visibly. You felt Louis’s arm draw you closer. He turned at you.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just shaken from the events.” You told him but did not attempt to give him a smile of assurance.

You stood by the door of the king’s chambers, waiting for the physician. Louis did not leave you; he kept you company while you waited. You worried for the king. You hoped your efforts were not in vain or else the Grand Duke would have succeeded. In what, you were too afraid to find out.

The doors opened and the doctor called for you inside the room. You gave Louis a weak smile, assured him that you would find your way back to your chambers on your own so he may rest. He reluctantly left you but not before telling you he would talk to you first thing in the morning to bring you down for breakfast.

You stepped into the king’s magnificent room and to the small table the physician had laid claim to put upon his instruments. You saw the king in his bed, looking so frail and small and unlike the great and powerful monarch that he was. On his bed, he was dwarfed by the sheer number of pillows and blankets that were there to support him. Kit sat by him, looking over his father in concern.

“Miss, I will have you here, if you please.” The man said.

You walked to his little worktable and presented your wounded hand.

“Will he be all right?” you asked as the man unwrapped your knuckles.

“I have given him a sedative so he may sleep the night. He shall be better when he wakes tomorrow.” he replied.

You watched him dab a cloth drenched in ointment. You drew back your hand slightly, at the sting that came with each dab.

“Perhaps you can answer my question as to the contents of the vial that I had seen on the table,” he murmured as he re-wrapped your hand.

“The vial?” you asked innocently.

“His breath smelt of an emetic. I assume you had been the one responsible for it.”

You bit on the inside of your cheek and nodded. “My efforts to make him retch were proving futile. The emetic helped.”

“What made you do so, if I may ask?”

You looked at the doctor, at his kindly eyes. There was no suspicious air about him but you were still cautious. Rather than answering him, you asked him a question.

“Sir, if I may ask you, had you been the physician who examined Queen Amalie before her death?” you asked.

“Not I, Miss. It had been a different physician. Why do you ask?”

You shook your head at him. “It is nothing. I am merely curious.” You cleared your throat and looked at the king. “I do not know what was in the vial but I was told it was an emetic. I thought it the best way to make the king vomit.”

“But why? You would have landed blows on his back and that would have worked as effectively.”

“I had but it did not do anything.”

“I see.”

“Sir,” you said as you cradled your hand close to you. “Might I ask of you to remain in the king’s chambers? I am… worried something might happen to him.”

The man frowned. “Worried? Why so?”

“Just…” You licked your lips, thinking of a lie that sounded credible to the man. “If the monarch passes, it shall put the kingdom in an uproar. I do not think we are prepared should an event as such happen so suddenly tonight.”

The man considered your words. You turned to Kit, watched him as he kept vigil beside his father. All the time you had seen and known the prince, he was always moved with an assurance of a strong, smart man. To see him in this child-like state, beside his sickly father, was new to you. It broke your already broken heart to see him look so hopeless and helpless.

“Thank you for your service, Sir,” you said to the man when he made no move to answer your request. If he would not do as you asked, you knew you could ask of Louis to do it. Although he was not particularly close with his uncle, he would do so for the future of the kingdom.

You gave the physician a smile, curtsied, and turned to go. Footsteps followed you as you headed out of the king’s chambers and you turned to see the prince following you.

“Y/N,” Kit called gently. He touched your injured hand and held it in his gingerly. “Are you all right?”

Your lips quivered. Scenting his familiar, homey smell, you allowed yourself to cry as the events that had happened earlier that night finally registered to you. Kit wrapped his arms around you tightly, rubbing your back, soothing you as you clutched him and cried against his chest.

You had been so close to your death had you not been too engrossed in your heartache. Instead, the unwitting victim had been the king. The Grand Duke was vile and evil and sinister and he must be held accountable for all of his actions. It was no time to be a coward. You had to tell Kit of your findings and your investigation.

“Kit—”

“Pardon me, Your Royal Highness, but the Duke of Granville requests Miss Y/N’s presence in the library immediately.” A footman said from behind you.

You broke free from Kit’s embrace and shivered at the sudden coldness you felt at the absence of his arms. You looked up at his sad, regretful face and it took you all of your strength to not break down in front of him. His father was weak and needed him. If you cried some more, you knew it would break him as well.

“I must go,” you said, thinking that you would return to Kit and tell him after you had met with Louis, and followed the footman without another word.

The day had been very eventful. Not only were you physically exhausted from traveling from your father’s, but you were also drained of all emotions and quite worried for the health of the king. The prospect of lying in your bed until Kit’s wedding day had suddenly become too enticing for you. You did not want to participate in any other event that had you out of your room. Perhaps, if you asked nicely, Abigail would make excuses for you so you could remain in the comforts of your chambers.

You entered the library quietly and walked about it, looking for Louis in between the shelves.

“Louis?” you called gently. “Is something wrong?”

But instead, someone else appeared from behind the mahogany bookcase.

The Grand Duke stalked over to you, predatory in the way that he walked and watched you. There was an air of danger about him and the sweat that dripped on your back did not come from the heat of the fireplace.

“You had been nothing but trouble the moment you set foot inside the palace,” said the man. He set down a crystal vial on the table and looked at you pointedly.

You straightened your back and displayed an air of ignorance. He knew the contents of the vial. Of course, he did. The Grand Duke was intelligent. It took more than sheer luck for the man to be successful in his nefarious ways.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“Know—know what, Your Grace?” you inquired, stepping back to be closer to the door. You did not like the way he sneered at you. It was different from before. This time, he held contempt in his face.

He scoffed. The sound made the hair on your arms raise on their ends.

“Don’t mock me. You’re not stupid. You’ve proven yourself to be smart when you knew immediately that the king had been poisoned.” At your scandalized look, he scoffed yet again. “You take scandal in that? You knew it was hemlock when you asked for mustard and castor oil. How did you know?”

When you didn’t immediately answer, he boomed: “How!”

You flinched, whole body reacting to his loud request. Your knees shook but unlike before, when they trembled because of your heartbreak, they now knocked together in fear. You felt alert but not all at once. You were scared of the man.

“Herbology book!” You blurted in fright. “I saw it on the herbology book you told me to read.”

His brow raised minutely, appearing impressed before his face returned to that sinister mask he so often wore. “Had I known you were clever, I would’ve made you find ways to divorce yourself from the prince. You would have saved us a lot of time.”

You backed slowly, steps small as you made your way to the door.

“But that is done now. My niece will marry the prince. I will control him when he takes over the throne. And you,” he paused to look at you, sneering. “I have to dispose of you like I did with that stupid Queen Amalie. You know too much now. I cannot have you alive.”

You did not know it was possible for your blood to run cold in your veins. It did at the admission of the nobleman that he killed the queen. Your breath stopped in your lungs and all you could do was look at him with an expression of both shock and horror.

But the Grand Duke mistook your shock for confusion. He swelled with obvious pride at his actions, the very same one that caused the untimely death of the queen.

"Oh, yes,” he said with a vicious, victorious smile. “I killed her.”

Your knees buckled under you and your steps faltered. He had no remorse in his voice, none whatsoever that indicated he regretted what he had done. And why would he, when he had been ready to repeat his action towards the king.

“And no one has suspected a thing.” He peered at you in a way that made your skin crawl. “Unless you had, you smart, ambitious girl.”

He advanced to you and grabbed your chin painfully in his hands. He forced you to look at him, in his eyes that were demented and angry.

“What do you know!” he demanded, crushing your jaw in his hand.

You cried out in pain and grabbed at his hand but you refused to tell him everything you had found out. If you spoke, he would make quick his killing of you, you knew as much.

“So now you don’t speak? When I demand that you do?” He pulled you impossibly closer to him, until you could feel his breath against your face.

Your heart thudded wildly in your chest. Your palms felt sweaty out of fear. You wanted to draw back in derision but he held you in a vise. You stayed as still as you could, hoping, praying that this would end soon.

“Well, if you do not want to talk, let me tell you, then, how I killed Queen Amalie. After all, it had been a while since I relived my greatest success.”

He casted you aside forcefully. You collided against the wall and fell in a heap on the floor, afraid to move lest he attacked you. You watched as he walked proudly about the library, head held high in reminisce.

“She was a simple target, you see.” He started. “Quite easy to eliminate. Shower her with gifts and you will be in her good graces.”

You swallowed the bile that rose to your throat. He had given her the poisonous plants and the books about them in hopes of gaining her confidence so he could kill her. Such vile—monster he was!

“So I gave her flowers and books from my country. She loved those ‘pretty flowers,’ as how she called them, and that gave me an idea. What if the very thing she loved, killed her? So I studied the beautiful plants and found some that were not native to this kingdom, some that were pretty enough for her to put in her garden but quite poisonous to kill her.”

He turned to you with a wicked smile. “And it had been so easy to slip those herbs in her tea. People are so easily bought with money and power. I had bribed many people to do my bidding, including the footman who lied and called for you. Servants are so simple-minded, I find.”

You looked at him in horror as he proved all of your suspicions correct. You did not know whether to rejoice for uncovering the truth or to be afraid of your fate. Your simple conjecture over the poisoned tea leaves proved to be right. Of course Queen Amalie would not have personally added those leaves to her tea, especially if she knew what they were. Your thoughts were running wild with more theories you wished to uncover. But instead, you only sat there in fear.

“And when the perfect moment presented itself, I did what I had to do.”

He smiled proudly at you. Your stomach rolled at how disgusting he looked.

“She felt faint from the heat after she had spent all morning in her gardens. And then they gave her the poisoned tea as refreshment and she drank all of it. No one ever thought to check twice on her tea because everyone had immediately thought the sun was the culprit for her delirium.”

There was an inquisitive look about his face now but it did not tamper down the menacing air about him.

“Sometimes, I wonder if it was my success. I had merely placed the herb in her drink but it was by her hand that she killed herself. Thirsty woman, drinking poison like it was nectar from the gods.” His smile was slick and disgusting.

“Why?” you rasped. It escaped your mouth even before you could stop yourself.

He turned to you with a crazed gleam in his eyes. “Because I can.”

You stopped breathing altogether.

That was it?

That was why he killed someone so beautiful and intelligent?

Because he could?

You had never met such foul, vile man in all your life!

You felt tears pool at your eyes at the idea that this man, this—villain, exercised power over people just because he could! Because it was innate in him that he was ruthless and evil and disgusting!

“Tears for the queen?” he mocked as he bent down to meet your eyes. “Soon, those tears will be for yourself if you do not tell me what you know.”

Your body shuddered. Your mouth stayed locked in fear for the man who you knew would make good of his threats.

“It’s your turn to speak now, girl. You’ve stayed silent long enough.”

Your head shook on its own volition. You did not have control of your body anymore.

“Pretty bracelet,” he suddenly said and grasped your wrist, bringing you even closer to him. You tried to shrink back but you could not, not with the way he held on to you. “Could it be the same one you wore to the square when I saw you spy on me?”

You stopped, recalling the day you saw him come out of the apothecary. That had been the same day Princess Chelina bought the bracelet for you. “I did not spy on you—” you told him weakly.

“I saw you! Do not insult my intelligence by denying you weren’t there!”

You gasped when he slapped you. It sent your whole body against the wall once more. This time, you hit your head hard, letting out a groan of pain upon impact. You tasted a bit of blood from your cut cheek.

“Tell me what you know! If you do not, I will kill everyone you love,” he threatened. “Including your beloved prince.”

You blinked away the haziness of your head. The force of your impact upon the wall made your head throb. You could not think properly but there was one thing you were sure of: he would make good of his threats. The Grand Duke, insane as he was, would carry out his promises without a moment’s hesitation.

So, you lied. You could not give away the information you had gathered just because he demanded it. He would come for the people you had spoken to and your investigation would be all for naught. You would not let him win again.

“I know nothing!” You gasped. “I only thought the king choked! I did not know anything about the queen!"

“Lies!” He slapped you again, making you cry out when it sent you to the wall again. “You had an emetic! You were ready for it!”

You shook your head, the action making you nauseous. Your head had been abused for too long. All you had wanted was to lay down in your chambers to sleep.

“I did not know! I swear to you, I do not know anything! I only thought the king choked! I did not know anything of the queen’s death! Please! Spare me!”

Your tears spilled now. Your head pulsated against your temples. You could not move. Pain assaulted you inside and out but you had to keep strong. For Kit. For the king. For yourself.

“Insolent girl! Do you think I will let you live after I had told you how I killed the queen?” He spat.

He squatted before you. The sigh that came from the Grand Duke was filled with frustration.

“I thought you were a worthy adversary to me. You’re only a slip of a girl who had been in places at the most opportune of times. You must know I will take no satisfaction in killing you.”

From the periphery of your vision, you saw his fist raise. Pain erupted on both sides of your head before everything turned dark.

Kit never thought he would watch his father come close to the brink of death.

He had always been a formidable figure, too strong for his opponents in and out of war. He wielded his title and power with a majesty Kit had not seen in any other. Even in his old age, he commanded people with the same might as he had when he had been much younger and all obeyed his orders. Now, that seemed like a distant past. Because on the bed before Kit was a shadow of the man he had admired.

Even with his father’s failing health, it never occurred to Kit that a simple moment may be his father’s last. Yes, he had been angry with him for forcing you to remain in the palace to watch his marriage to the Princess Chelina but he did not wish ill upon him. He only wanted him to stop his demands and to leave you be. And then he choked on a vegetable and you came in to save him from it, even when he had been rude to you.

It scared Kit. He knew he was to become king soon but he did not realize it was much sooner than he thought. If you had not saved his father, he would have been pulled into signing another marriage contract so he may ascend the throne as king.

“Your Royal Highness, you must break your fast,” said the physician.

The man had stayed throughout the night, watching and examining every small movement from the king. He had only been gone for a brief while—to examine what had happened in the dining room, the man said—and when he returned, he kept a more watchful eye on the ailing monarch if he was not writing in his book.

Kit did not ask what the man had found. He saw what had happened. His father choked on an unassuming vegetable before you came in to save him.

The prince looked at the clock, finding it still too early for the other occupants of the palace to be awake and to have breakfast. He knew the man only worried for his health since he had not slept after what had transpired last night.

“No one will stay to look after him,” he told the physician as he turned to his father once more.

“I will not leave him until you return, Your Royal Highness.” The physician planted himself by the table he took for his medical materials. “I shall inform you if he awakes, if you so wish.”

With this, Kit nodded and stood. “You may ask a footman to bring you your meal, Sir.”

He left for the breakfast hall and found it empty. He took his breakfast alone and lingered there, reflecting on everything that had happened the day before.

The quick change of events reminded him of the weather in his tiny kingdom. Yesterday, in the morning, he had been full of hope and the sun reflected his mood, shining so brightly. Now, after all of the events that took place, the day was as gloomy as his humors. The rain even pattered against the glass window of the palace, mimicking the way his dark thoughts tumbled around his mind.

He had not been given a chance to fully comprehend his father’s devastating words. After he told him that he had been freed of his marriage to you, it was pronounced that his wedding to the Princess Chelina were to happen immediately. His mother, had she been alive, would have scolded her husband for the crass way he delivered the news. Kit understood the urgency but his father should have realized that he was his son and he was not transactional just because he was king.

Kit looked up from his musings to see his cousin enter the breakfast hall so late. Louis did not look like he had had any sleep at all.

“Cousin,” Louis said by way of greeting.

The prince only nodded.

The whole palace felt eerily still despite the turmoil of the weather outside.

“Has Y/N come down?” Louis asked.

Kit shook his head in reply.

“That’s rather odd.” he remarked.

He looked at his cousin, frowning. “Why?”

“I went by her room and she did not answer when I knocked. I thought she had gone ahead of me to breakfast.”

“She has not come by at all.” he supplied. He took a sip of his tea—different in taste from the one you were said to make—and sighed. “You asked for her last night. I figured you were the last person to see her before she returned to her room.”

To this, his cousin shook his head. “I didn’t ask for her last night. I left her after I delivered her to the physician.”

“You asked to meet with her in the library.” Kit insisted.

“Kit, while I am sure the flurry of last night had us all in a frenzy, I recall clearly that I did not ask to meet her in the library.” Louis drank his tea before continuing. “And if I did indeed meet with her, it would be in her room because she had been tired from the day’s events and she needed her rest.”

“But I am quite sure—”

“So am I.” Louis said with finality.

“She couldn’t have left.” Kit proclaimed but it was more to himself. If his cousin was adamant that he did not meet with you and your chambers were empty of you so early in the day, where have you gone?

“Perhaps she is just about the gardens?” the duke suggested before turning to the window to see that the wind had picked up and the rain had become a bit of a storm.

“I don’t think she is.” Kit frowned and worry started to bloom in his chest.

It seemed unnatural that you were to leave so suddenly, and in the night. And if you had, you would have taken the carriage because you did not ride horseback as he had not taught you yet.

He waved over a footman and asked for the status of the horses, if any had been taken out some time in the night or if any of the carriages had been used at all. When the footman arrived and replied in the negative, Kit was up on his feet in worry.

He heard his cousin command some of the footmen to go look for you around the palace.

“She will be found, Kit. She promised your father that she would remain here and she would do it.” Louis assured. “Y/N keeps her word.”

Kit could only nod. The worry had changed into dread when the footmen, and even Captain Thibault, had arrived to tell them that you were not found anywhere in the palace.

“We’ve searched high and low, Your Royal Highness,” Thibault said. “We even asked for Abigail’s help to search her room.”

“Was she in her room all this time?” Louis asked.

“No, Your Grace. Her bed was still exactly as how Abigail had made it when she had left for dinner, she said. She hadn’t gone in to remake it because she had not been summoned to.” Thibault frowned. “I wish I was wrong in saying this but I do not think she returned to her chambers.”

Kit looked at his friend sharply. “She couldn’t have just vanished.” He said slowly.

“Of course,” Thibault nodded, although he looked unsure.

“We will find her, Cousin. Do not fret.” Louis said as he stood. “I will devote my time to do so.”

“My men and I shall assist you in anyway we can, Your Grace,” Thibault told him.

“Thank you, good man. I will take command of five of your men to come with me while I search the gardens for her.”

Kit returned to his seat and watched as his cousin left, leaving him and his friend inside the dining hall.

“Do not lose heart, Kit. We will find her.” The Captain said with as much positivity as he could muster on the matter. “How is the king?”

“He is still asleep when I left. I would assume nothing has changed since the physician has not come to me with news.” Kit drank his tea distractedly.

“Then perhaps you should sleep.” When he was ready to protest, Thibault stopped him. “It will not do well for you to look like that when your father awakes. Or when we find your wife.”

At this, Kit sighed. “She is not my wife anymore, Thibault. The divorce has been granted.”

“I’m sorry,” was all the Captain could say.

Kit rose from his seat. “So am I.”

“Do you think that is the reason she is gone?” he asked.

The prince shook his head. “Y/N does what is right. My father asked of her to stay and I know she will honor her promise because that is who she is.” He swallowed painfully. “Even if it hurts her.”

He did not glance back to see his friend’s reaction but he knew he pitied him. He headed for his father’s study, thinking it best to occupy his thoughts with matters of the kingdom. His father must have left some other business for Kit to look at, other than those of his impending wedding and marriage to the princess. He could take care of those matters himself, he thought surly.

He entered the Study, finding the Grand Duke seated by his table.

“Your Royal Highness. How is your father?” he asked as he bowed.

The man had not been at breakfast, despite how early Kit had been in the hall. He gave the man a singular nod, heading straight to his father’s desk to gather his papers.

“He is well,” Kit answered. He took the papers from his father’s to bring to his table. As he set it down, he saw a letter addressed to him leaning against his inkpot. He picked it up, broke the wax seal and read through its contents.

Your Royal Highness,

I have fled the palace. Do not come looking for me for your efforts will be futile. I do not love you anymore. I do not want to be found by you. I do not want to be reminded of our brief marriage. You must marry Chelina. Your father wishes that you do and you must follow him.

All the best,

Y/N Y/L/N

He read and reread the letter, unbelieving of the words you had written down on the piece of paper he held in his hands. You had fled the palace because you did not want to be reminded of your marriage to him. You wanted him to marry Chelina because his father had told him to.

Kit knew you followed orders but this letter—this offending piece of paper—all but told him you wanted to rid yourself from him.

He could scarcely believe it.

You had confessed your love, only to take it back and flee at the first sight of trouble.

He read the letter again to the point of memorizing the sentences. Your words rang through his head, harsh, stinging echoes like how the rain pelted against the window.

He worked on his father’s papers with a distracted mind, often returning to the day before when you had returned his kiss. He did not know you were capricious in your feelings for him. One minute, you decided to confess your love for him. The next, you had fled him because you did not love him. It seemed… unnatural. It did not seem like you.

But the proof was in the paper. You had written your sentiments. You did not want to be found. Kit loved you more than enough to honor your wishes, even if he loathed them.

“Are there businesses to be made of the mines, Your Royal Highness?” The Grand Duke asked as he stood from his table.

Kit looked over at his worktable, at his mother’s proposals and his father’s drafts. The mines had been the singular thing on his father’s mind for the past week. He and the Grand Duke had been adamant in selling it. Kit kept prolonging the sale because he did not think it the best move for it.

“Nothing from his papers. We shall not move until I had spoken with my father,” Kit said. His eyes flitted on your missive once more.

“The mines have been stagnant. It would do well for them to be sold to the highest bidder—”

The prince looked up at his father’s adviser and frowned. “I heard you, Your Grace, but you must understand that this is a matter only the king can handle. I am sure the bidder will not mind waiting for a few more days until my father could come to a conclusion.”

The man looked chastised. Kit noticed the tick in his jaw as he nodded.

“Of course, Your Royal Highness,” was all he said before he returned to his papers.

Kit worked on his mother’s proposal for a while but his mind kept coming back to your letter. It was futile to continue with his work when your words plagued him. He stood from his desk, taking the letter with him, and made his way to find his cousin. Louis was adamant to find you. He would not want you to loathe his cousin too, especially since you both considered each other as dear friends.

He found his cousin just coming in from the gardens, drenched from the rain.

“Louis, Y/N does not wish to be found,” he said without preamble nor explanation. Nor did he say it with feeling.

The duke frowned, shrugging off his soaked outer coat to pass to a servant. “So you’ve found her?”

“No. I found a letter from her. She fled because she does not love me anymore. She wants me to marry the Princess Chelina because father wishes that I do.”

Louis frowned. “And where is this letter?” he asked.

He gave the letter to his cousin, watching as the duke read it. His face was skeptical when he turned to the prince.

“No,” was all the duke said. “This couldn’t be by her.”

Louis started towards the direction of his chambers, quick in his strides as he took two steps at a time. Kit followed suit, confused as to why his cousin would think it was not by your hand. You had signed your name; that would have been proof enough that it was by you.

He entered Louis’s chambers, watching him as he rummaged through his coats.

“What do you mean it couldn’t be by her?” Kit finally asked. “She signed her name on the letter.”

“Yes, she did,” Louis said as he took another coat and plunged his hands in its pockets. “And it is by her hand but it does not sound like her. It does not even seem to smell like her.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kit exclaimed. He knew his cousin was maddening but he did not take him for a madman.

Louis sighed before looking at his cousin pointedly. “I had been in correspondence with your wife for nearly a decade, Cousin. Trust me when I say this letter does not smell of her. All of her stationery smell of lemon and lavender—Lavender!”

The duke turned over the letter in his hand, to the wax seal that was devoid of the flower.

“This is not her letter!” Louis exclaimed. “Y/N always seals her missives with a lavender. Always. It is like her signet.”

“Perhaps she was in a hurry to leave,” Kit supplied, although he himself was unsure why he had said that.

“Even if the missive is unimportant, she still seals them with it. It is what makes her letters smell of lavender and lemon.” Louis sniffed at the paper and frowned. “This did not come from her desk.”

“Again, it could have come from the library where you saw her last—”

“Kit,” the duke sighed. “Cousin, I know you refuse to believe me that I did not meet with her in the library yesterday but you have to trust me about this letter. Whilst you are her husband, I am her dearest friend whom she had been writing to for ten years. I have a cache of her letters I keep in Granville. I know when I am faced with a letter penned by my friend.”

The prince conceded, nodding mutely. Louis continued to do as before, grabbing and throwing kerchiefs. It took him a while before he pulled out a hefty letter that was sealed with wax and a sprig of lavender.

Louis showed it to his cousin. “She had given me this a week past. She told me to read it only when she had gone.”

Kit looked at the letter, at the obvious sprig of lavender that was embedded in the blue and gold seal. His cousin thrust it against his nose and he was assaulted with the scent of lavender and lemon. Your scent. Then he remembered the very first day he met you, that you mentioned you always sealed your letters with lavender sprigs in your seal.

He had been too pained by the events and the contents of that faux letter to think clearly.

Louis broke off the seal and laid it open, only for it to come blank. Kit said as much.

“It’s a secret missive,” was all the duke said.

He neared a candle, lit it, and ran the first of the papers over it. In time, letters and words appeared.

“She writes with lemon juice. It only appears to the receiver who knows what to do when given such a letter,” Louis said as he did the same for the next pages. “She only does this when she writes something that is a secret. Often times, she writes of scandal she hears in some court. She is not one for gossip but she does write to me of it because I have been… connected to her subject in some way.”

On any other occasion, Kit would have smiled at his cousin’s fond memory of you.

When all the words had been made to appear, they took to reading the letter.

To reader:

I have reason to believe Queen Amalie’s death was not accidental.

I am suspicious of the instances of her death that I took it upon myself to further investigate what had happened that day. Here are the findings that I have unearthed:

1. The Queen had apparently concocted her own tea blend with the use of Digitalis purpurea. The plant Digitalis is commonly known as foxglove and is a well-known poison. Why the queen had knowingly added it to her own tea had been a point of question for me for a physician would be needed to give a proper measurement for it not to be poisonous (as it is also a medicinal herb). It appeared that no physician had been summoned because there was an abundance of the leaves and petals, enough to be considered dangerous to the drinkers.

2. Another jar of tea leaves had Aconitum napellus in them. Aconitum, commonly known as monkshood or wolfsbane, is another poison. It cannot be easily mistaken for something else because the plant has distinct markings. I believe the addition of it to the tea had also been deliberate.

3. The canisters of tea leaves in the kitchen had been left unlabeled by the last maid, who had also changed their containers for another. I find it highly suspicious for a maid to do so when she could have just easily replaced the labels from the old jars to the new ones. This, I believe, is so they can confuse someone with no knowledge of the lethality of these herbs and plants and thus cannot be blamed for purposefully poisoning anyone.

4. While there are similarities in the signs and symptoms for each plant poisoning, it was the Queen’s delirium that had me believing she had ingested the tea with the foxglove petals and leaves.

The evidence stated so far may not be compelling for her death to be deemed deliberate, but I have delved deeper into my investigation. These facts that I am to state were unknown to me upon my arrival in the palace and I believe it an advantage—that I have a clear mind—as I went about my inquisition.

5. The Queen was fond of her garden and, thus, was knowledgeable on plants and herbs. She would have known of the properties of each of the flowers that had been gifted to her.

6. The Queen was also known for attending to her gardens and thus, had been used to the heat of the summer sun. She would have known when to bring a hat with her or when to not be in the garden.

7. The Grand Duke is the king’s adviser from Prussia who had arrived at our humble kingdom two years ago. He is able to speak and read in the German language, in addition to our kingdom’s tongue.

8. The Grand Duke had also gifted the late Queen with books and plants and bulbs from his home kingdom. These books had been in the German language, and all had pages of said plants above.

9. The Queen had many books on the subject of botany and herbology and each book contained passages of said plants. Each passage and page had warnings against the ingestion of any parts of the plants.

10. There was a book on herbology in the German language and the pages for Digitalis purpurea and for Aconitum napellus had been opened far too many times, judging by the way the book opened immediately on said subject as it was being taken out. It is for a fact that the spine had creased on those particular pages.

I may seem overly suspicious of the Grand Duke but there is cause for my distrust, other than what had been said above. In my last trip to the square, I had seen him come out of the apothecary. I continued on my investigation without his knowledge and had learned of more information that deemed him guilty of such violent act against the late Queen.

11. I came upon the apothecary’s ledger and in it, I looked for the noble’s name. What I had found astounded and frightened me. A few months before Queen Amalie’s death, he had been in need of the apothecary’s service—which, I had inquired of the shopkeeper, included preparing of herbs. In the shop, I had found the same preparations of monkshood and foxglove. Suffice it to say, the service could have been in that form.

12. Another entry in the ledger had been for a purchase of foxglove. This was done months prior to my arrival. I had noted of this because there was a jar of tea that had in it freshly prepared foxglove. I had told the housekeeper and Cook of this matter (without alarming them of my finding) and in my own volition, kept said jar in my chambers so it is beyond the reach of unsuspecting victims.

13. His last purchase was that for hemlock. I am sure you are aware of its lethal properties. If not, it is famously known for how quick it kills its victims. I have no idea of where he would use said herb—I believe he does not own a pet or an animal that needed putting down—but since I had invoked his ire once more, I took it upon myself to buy an emetic to use. There is no known cure for hemlock and only a prepared emetic or a solution of mustard and castor oil can save the victim from having the poison reach the stomach. I fear for my life, should he try to use the pernicious herb on me.

As for the reason why he did such evil action, it is only for him to answer.

I implore you to follow through my investigation to see if I did indeed find sufficient evidence against the man. The Apothecary is the one near the seamstress aisle, on the opposite side of the square from the Magistrate’s building. Seek for his ledger. Look in the month of May of the last year and you shall find his purchase of service, in the month of June for this year for the purchase of Digitalis, and the week last since the penning of this letter for the purchase of hemlock. You will also find a record of mine with a purchase of two emetics: one against hemlock and the other against foxglove poisoning.

The herbology book is entitled ‘Ein Buch über Pflanzen und Kräuter und ihre Verwendung,’ its spine is blue with a crease that will tell you of what page Digitalis purpurea is printed on. In my chambers in the palace, the jar of poison-laden tea is kept away near the fireplace, beneath the logs used for kindling. Be careful when inspecting it. There is a need to use gloves when you are to handle the petals for they are dangerous even by touch.

Forgive my cowardice for not coming forth with my investigation. I would not want to accuse the Grand Duke with so little evidence. I fear that if he catches me accusing him of thus, I would be sent to my death for treason, &c.

If, however, my vanishing be mysterious, I fear the Grand Duke has found out of my investigation and has dealt with me accordingly.

Take good care on your investigation. I would not want the Grand Duke to claim another victim whilst you are in pursuit of the truth.

Yours ever,

Y/N

The Accidental Princess (Part 3)

Prince Kit x Reader

Summary: A contract has been found, after twenty years, bearing your name and Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Summary: Prince Kit gets to know more about you.

Word Count: 5.5k words

Warnings: Grand Duke is a bit of an a$$ but everyone knows that already, bit of period typical misogyng?? Louis and Kit both being adorable, not period accurate (but I try to stick to the real thing lol), FLUFFFFF, that's it??

A/N: Hey, guys! I know this was posted before but when I did a reread of it, it was all over the place. My bad!! It's the same thing but in the right order. Hopefully Tumblr won't c*ck this up this time. I love hearing your thoughts, you guys! Please don't be shy in leaving a comment or a review! Reblogs are totally welcome! Here is Part 3 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

“Kit, my boy, I have been looking everywhere for you.” The king called his son as he appeared from the corner.

Your words of his mother being benevolent had brought him to the Hall of Portraits. He had left you with his cousin, Louis, since you were so enamored with him than you were with your husband. And yes, he was free to admit to himself that he was jealous of the rapt attention you gave his cousin while you gave him nary a look since being introduced to Louis.

Kit stood in front of the portrait of his mother, looking at her for a while as he remembered the day of her death. Queen Amalie had been jolly that day, hugging him and kissing his cheek as she greeted him a good morning. All she had planned was to be in her garden, planting and caring for the new species of flowers and herbs the Grand Duke had brought over from his home country. She had always spent her time of rest in the garden she loved. She had slaved herself the day before, absorbed in finishing her proposal for more international trades for the kingdom. Kit had been eager to read more of it but it was not meant to be. She had passed on the day after that. Kit, his father, the whole palace, and the whole kingdom mourned the loss of such good and intelligent queen.

“I had received word that the Princess Chelina wishes to arrive earlier than she intended. The Grand Duke thinks it a fine idea for her to know more of her future people.” The king said as he stood beside his son.

Kit merely nodded, keeping his eyes on his mother’s serene face on the portrait. “Is there a day or time we are to be expecting her in the palace?”

He turned to his father and found him staring at his mother as well. There was a sad look upon his face, a longing, as his eyes roamed over the master’s painting of her. Kit knew better than to linger by his mother’s portrait. His father had aged a decade since that faithful day and his health started to decline once she had been buried. It had not gone unnoticed to Kit that he was soon to take his father’s place on the throne.

“Zaragoza is seven days’ travel by sea and land to our kingdom. We shall see her at the end of the week.” The king cleared his throat and patted his son’s shoulder. “Your cousins have arrived.”

“I know, Father. I left Louis in the company of Y/N in the garden.” Kit told him.

“It is best you stay away from her,” said the king in a tone that did not permit defying.

But Kit was his son and he sometimes defied his father, even in small matters. “Is there a reason why?”

“She will get ideas that you wish to remain wed to her.” The king looked at his son.

Kit raised his brow. “She wishes to help with this predicament she has placed upon us.”

“I think she has done enough helping.” When Kit did not seem to back down, the king sighed. “Your mother would have known what to do, Kit.”

“Mother would,” the prince agreed.

“I miss her every day,” the king admitted.

“So do I.” he told his father. “What shall we do on the anniversary of her death? Would it be in poor taste to hold a feast?”

“No. Your mother would have allowed festivities.”

“Shall we hold one for her, then?”

“Yes,” his father replied. “She would have loved for us to be happy instead of mourning her. We shall hold it when the princess arrives.”

Kit nodded. “Do you think mother would have liked her?”

“Princess Chelina?”

“No. Y/N.”

The king sighed. “Keep her out of your head, Kit. Once she and you are separated, she will be out of the palace and of our lives for good.”

“It makes me wonder, father, why you are so adamant that I marry Princess Chelina. Isn’t what you stipulated that I only marry before I ascend the throne? You did not say she needed be a princess or a noble or titled, even.”

“She has turned your head, my boy.” The king said gravely. “I worry about that. I know her father. He had boasted before that his daughter could be very persuasive.”

Kit raised an eyebrow. “She has not done any persuasion towards me at all.”

It is quite the opposite, in fact, he thought surly. He could still vividly recall how you smiled prettily when you called his cousin by his name readily. He had been trying to make you call him by his name and you were stubborn and insistent that it was improper. For his cousin, it appeared that it was not.

“Princes are made for princesses.” The king said with finality as he looked at his son with a stern brow.

“Father—”

“I will not hear any argument from you, Kit.”

“Can I, perhaps, try to learn more about her?”

“For what reason?”

“She is a citizen of our kingdom, is she not? If you do not think her the princess, then we shall consider her a citizen of it.”

“There are others you can learn from.”

“None of them live in the palace.”

“Kit.”

“Father.”

The king sighed and turned to the portrait once more. “Do you see how stubborn he has become, Amalie? Our boy has not changed.”

Kit grinned. “I took after you, father.”

His father chuckled. “Very well, Kit, but be weary of her. The Grand Duke says she is coming after the books on the laws of the kingdom. She might seem innocent to you but for the Grand Duke, he finds her ambitious.”

“The Grand Duke insulted her intelligence by suggesting she read a book on herbology. Her reason for wanting the books on politics was to help us find a solution for this impasse.”

“The books are in a foreign language.”

“She reads German.”

The king’s eyebrow rose as he turned to his son. “Has she told you that?”

“The herbology book was in German.”

“When did we get an herbology book in German?”

“Must be mother’s since she loved tending to her garden.”

They both turned to the portrait of the last queen of the kingdom.

“Let your cousin keep her entertained, Kit. Remember that you are to be wed to the Princess Chelina. Hers is a country that we are in desperate need of alliance with. Your mother would have wanted for you to do your duty.” The king said with a tired voice.

Kit remained quiet. His mother had ingrained in him her love of her duty as the queen. She loved the people, considered them her family when she had moved from her home country to her kingdom. She always placed their needs above all else, heralding their small territory into greatness in her short reign as queen. If there was one person he idolized more than his father, it was his mother.

“Of course, father. I do not wish to disappoint mother in her expectations of me.” Kit said as he looked at his mother’s face once more.

“Good. Now that we are in agreement, there is some other matter I wish to discuss with you.”

The days in the palace were monotonous.

Your trunks arrived with all of the items you had asked for but you were yet to pick up on the books your father had sent over because of the Duke of Granville. Louis had been a great source of companionship, even at times he did seem a bit tiresome. You had known him from before, when your family had been invited by his father to visit their stately home. You were at an impressionable age then, you sixteen and he nineteen, when you first met him. You had wished that he reciprocated your feelings of infatuation but as you saw that he merely viewed you like a sister, you dashed all hopes of having your sentiments returned. Louis had also been a bit of a braggart, boasting of his worldly travels to you, before he learned that you were much more well-traveled than he was. Since then, you had a certain kinship with each other, one borne out of your love for travels.

“I must say, being out of the palace is rather invigorating.” Louis said as he stepped out of the courtyard. “Is this why I often see you out here with a book to your nose?”

“The sea breeze reminds me of my travels. Other than the smell of the flowers in the garden, I rather like the saltiness of the sea.” You took a deep breath as if to prove a point. “The book is merely for passing time.”

You looked at the sky and smiled as the sun’s shine kissed your cheeks.

“Still an avid reader, I see.”

“It was never lost from me, Louis,” you said as you turned to him. “Books, much like traveling, can take you everywhere your heart desires.”

He hummed. “And speaking of heart, my cousin seems to be besotted with you, my dear Y/N,” Louis commented with a grin as you both walked down the gardens.

“Your cousin is betrothed to a princess. I am surprised you do not know of the news.” You clasped your hands behind you, traipsing the pathway towards the late queen’s secret garden. My marriage garden, you thought to yourself wryly.

“That does not connect with my statement, Y/N.” Louis plucked a daisy and presented it to you.

You took it with a smile. “What do you wish me to say to that, Louis? That I am as infatuated with him as well?”

Louis’s chuckle echoed through the wind. “That shall suffice. Was it difficult to admit the truth?”

You shook your head, flushing. “That is not the truth.” You looked away from him to hide the pink tint of your cheeks.

“Not the whole of it.” Louis teased. The duke, apparently, was very observant and you declined to show him that he was speaking the truth.

You turned from him and walked on. “I see you have been looking at the abigails in the palace. Please tell me you have not made advancements of any kind to my maid Abigail.”

“No but now that you have mentioned it,” your friend regarded you with a boyish grin. Louis was also a lothario of sorts, in addition to being a brag.

“Louis! Don’t you dare!” You scolded playfully. “She has her sights set on Captain Thibault. I think he returns her sentiment.”

Louis sat on the bench and patted the space beside him. You sat and placed your hands on your lap, cupping the daisy he had given you.

“What makes you think that the good Captain is infatuated with your maid?” he asked.

“He is flustered around her,” you said simplistically. “And she is flustered around him.”

The duke’s grin was positively devilish. You dreaded to know what was going on in his mind.

“Was it like how you were flustered around me in Granville?” he teased. “Squeaky voice and ungraceful curtsy?”

You gave an unladylike groan. “I should not have admitted that to you.”

“Too late now, my dear Y/N. Quite too late.” He grinned.

“You are forever going to tease me so. I shall have to travel to the ends of the world to be away from you,” you told him.

“Or you could come with me to the square?” said a voice above you. “Escape my annoying cousin for a while.”

You looked up and saw blue eyes boring into yours. Kit’s. You knew the hue of his eyes even if you had only spoke to him a handful of times and had looked into them for lesser than that. You shivered at their intensity as he watched you.

You scrambled to your feet, dropping into another ungraceful curtsy. Louis only guffawed and you skewered him with a glance.

“Your Royal Highness,” you chirped, which only had your friend laugh out loud some more.

“Y/N,” Kit said good-naturedly to you. “Louis,” he said flatly to his cousin.

“Ah, cousin. It is so good to see you. A refreshing sight to see, am I right, Y/N?” Louis said once he had recovered from his bout of laughter.

You rose to your feet and looked at Louis squarely in the eye. “Yes, Your Grace. Quite,” you nearly spat at him.

Louis only grinned that charming smile of his. He knew how to spite you, the devil.

The prince cleared his throat and looked at you once more. “What do you say, Y/N? A trip to the square?”

“Any particular reason you’re going to the square, cousin?” Louis asked as he stood, clapping Kit’s shoulder.

“To get away from you, perhaps?” you supplied in a small voice. You had not realized it was loud enough for Kit to hear as well.

“I understand my cousin could be quite peeving but I did not think he has caused you this great a distress, Y/N.” Kit said.

You looked at the prince with wide eyes, turning pink when you saw the way he studied you. Why was it that he always looked at you as though you were the most fascinating thing in the world? His eyes were always inquisitive and they always held that sort of wonderment in them whenever he regarded you.

“Oh, no,” you denied, flushing feverishly. “Louis—that is, His Grace—and I were merely playing a game.”

“And a fun game it was,” Louis agreed. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the duke.

Kit only looked at you. “I see.”

“Off you go, pet,” Louis told you. “I shall miss you while you are away.”

You glared at the charming man. “I do not think I share the sentiment.”

“Oh?” He said, pretending affront. Louis pulled away from his cousin and advanced towards you. “You think you shall not miss me, Louis Toussaint, the Duke of Granville?”

You stayed rooted in place. “No. I dare say I won’t, Louis.” You told him with a false air of affection.

He leaned his face to yours, near enough to be considered improper, looking into your eyes with his happy, joking ones. “Liar.”

Your lips broke into a smile. You only hummed.

Kit cleared his throat.

Louis winked at you before pulling away. “She is all yours, cousin. I shall have to suffer spending time with my sisters while my dear Y/N is with you.”

Kit looked at you again. “Shall we? The horses are being fitted for their saddles. We shall leave at once.”

“I shall have to inform the king that I am to leave the palace grounds.” You told him. “I would need a chaperone and he shall be informed of my itinerary.”

“Whatever for?”

“A stipulation for my staying here,” you answered.

“Even when I am to take you to the square?”

“Especially then, Your Royal Highness,” you told him with meaning.

Kit seemed to have understood because he nodded. “Of course. Captain Thibault will be coming with us.”

“I can be your chaperone, pet,” Louis said.

“No.” Kit declared.

Louis raised a brow at him but he smiled at you after. “Are you really going to subject me to an afternoon without your lovely company, Y/N?”

“Your sisters are fit company, duke.”

Louis heaved an impressive fake sigh. “No matter. I shall have your unmitigated attention tomorrow, Y/N.” He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, deliberately taking longer than what was appropriate.

You bent a much more elegant curtsy than the one you gave the prince. “Louis.”

You rose when Louis dropped your hand. Kit still had his eyes on you. You shivered despite being under the blazing glare of the sun.

“I must confess something to you, Your Royal Highness,” you told Kit as Louis ambled away.

“What is it?” Kit asked as he walked beside you back to the palace.

“I am… not trained to ride a horse,” you said instead. You wanted to tell him that you feared riding the fickle creatures but you could not admit it to him lest he laugh at you.

“That won’t be a problem, Y/N. We shall take the carriage instead.” He smiled easily at you.

He nodded at the footmen who opened the doors to his father’s study. You entered what seemed to be an annex of the library, what with the number of books strewn about the table and the shelves teeming with more leather-bound tomes.

“Father, I wish to take Y/N to the square today. She told me you require that she has a chaperone with her when going out of the palace grounds?” Kit asked loudly in the room.

“Why are you taking her to the square, Your Royal Highness?” The Grand Duke asked instead.

You bowed down at the man. “Your Grace.”

He did not seem to pay you any mind. “It is improper, Your Royal Highness, for you to take a commoner on your trips to the square. People will talk.”

“She is a guest of my father’s, Grand Duke. I don’t see any reason why she should not be afforded the same courtesy as with the other guests of this palace.” The prince said.

“People will talk—” The Grand Duke tried once again.

“People do not know that she and I are wed. I was under the impression that you and father made sure the secret remain thus.”

“Your Royal Highness, it is not proper.”

“So is your insistence that I not bring her wherever I please. I would exercise caution with my next words, Grand Duke. You are speaking to the prince.” Kit said. It was the first time you had heard him use such an authoritative tone of voice. “Now, where is my father?”

“Calm down, my boy. No need to argue with the Grand Duke. He is simply worried that people will think our guest is your chosen bride.” The king said.

You bobbed another curtsy at the king who had just entered. “Your Majesty.”

“You said she is to require a chaperone. Is there one you have chosen for her or is she free to choose?” Kit asked his father.

“One of your cousins could chaperone her, Kit.”

“Louis is spending his time with his sisters. Can’t she just take her maid with her?”

You saw the king wave his hand away in agreement. “Fine. Now, leave us. We are quite busy.”

“Very busy,” claimed the Grand Duke as he looked at you with his spiteful eyes. “Such a problem you have brought upon us, girl.”

You bowed your head, breathing deeply and quietly. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, Your Grace.”

“Let’s go, Y/N.” Kit said. He touched your elbow and led you out of the study. He had left you to get Abigail while he went ahead to instruct one of the footmen to ready the carriage. When everything was ready and done, you both boarded the coach. Kit specifically asked that Abigail ride with the coach up front so that he may have time to talk to you about certain matters.

“Forgive me for being absent these couple of days, Y/N,” Kit said as the carriage rolled forward.

You were sat in front of him, your back to the road. Kit had changed into a less formal coat, its base the color of moss with golden ropes artfully embroidered to give its regal design. His cravat was the color of his eyes, blue and beautiful. He looked sinful as he sat before you with an air of nonchalance. He and Louis were cousins and although there were similarities between them, Kit was far more superior, not only in rank but in other things as well. Louis was a braggadocio whilst Kit was more reserved. He let his presence speak for himself.

“No need to apologize, Your Royal Highness,” you told him with a shy smile.

Truly, there was no need for him to apologize to you. You knew he had been quite busy, especially when you heard that the Princess Chelina was hoping to arrive earlier than was expected of her. The palace had been running amok with all the preparations for her arrival and for the feast that was for the anniversary for the death of Queen Amalie. You had wanted to help in any way you can but you never found the perfect moment to offer it. You also had not wanted to be a burden to them, remembering the unkindly words the Grand Duke had said to you.

“I wish for you to call me Kit, Y/N.” Kit said as he watched you. “You call my cousin by his name. What makes mine any different from his?”

You touched the daisy that was still in your hands. “The duke is… not as unattainable as you, Your Royal Highness.”

“Kit.” Kit insisted. “And unattainable? I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I—”

The carriage lurched and you were thrown from your seat and onto Kit’s lap. You felt his hands on your arms as he held you steady. He peered down at you, eyebrows drawn in concern. Your hands braced his thighs and you felt the corded muscles under his leather breeches. Your heart thudded in your chest and you swore you heard them thunder in your ears. You swallowed as you looked at his mouth then his eyes.

“Are you all right, Y/N?” he asked, worry marring his features.

You nodded mutely, still entranced by the blue of his eyes.

“Perhaps it is best you sit beside me.” He helped you up and planted you beside him, securing you closer to him when the carriage lurched again.

He called for the Captain. You heard Kit instruct him the stagecoach to drive carefully should you be thrown from your seat once more.

You felt your body grow hot and you had no idea if it was because you were surprised at being thrown across the carriage or because you were sat beside your husband. You did not dwell overmuch on the feeling because you did not want to put a name to it lest it made you hope.

“I am fine now, Your Royal Highness. No need to keep me locked in my seat.” You told him, clearing your throat because it had suddenly gone dry.

Kit pulled his arm away and you breathed easier. “I shall have to teach you how to ride horseback so we do not encounter such problems like this when we travel to the square again.”

At the mention of horseback, you felt your heart wedge in your throat. You clutched your hands together, feeling them damp. “I—I thank you, Your Royal Highness.” You said as you swallowed thickly. “I look—look forward to it.”

He gave a thoughtful hum. “No, you don’t.”

You turned to him. You found him regarding you silently.

“Are you afraid of horses, Y/N?” he asked gently.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “An absurd fear, I know,” you said before he could.

“Is that where you got your scar from?”

You felt his finger brush against the side of your face, touching your healed skin. “I had been thrown off a horse when I was much younger. Its hooves almost trampled me if it weren’t for my father who had pulled me from under the angry animal. It instead caught my cheek and I was left with this as a reminder of that day.”

“How do you go about your travels if you don’t ride a horse?” he asked.

“I travel mostly by sea.” You gave a small wistful smile. “I confess I have found my sea legs long before I could properly ride a horse.”

He smiled at you. “Then we shall make a day of it. I shall still teach you. One of the mares has a very kind temperament. It shouldn’t be spooked so easily.”

“That’s very kind, Your Roy—”

“Call me Kit, please. And you have not answered my question. How am I unattainable while my cousin is?”

You looked down on your lap, playing with your fingers. The daisy had fallen on the floor of the carriage now, its white petals dirtied with boot marks.

“He is a but a duke. His… title makes me less nervous around him.” You told him.

“I make you nervous?” Kit asked.

You looked at him shyly. “Very much so.”

“We must remedy that, then. If all it takes is for you to be comfortable around me to call me by my name, then we shall do it.” Kit’s face turned thoughtful once more.

“There is no need for that.” you said.

“Then you shall call me by my name?” Kit watched you closely, his face now hopeful.

“Why do you insist that I do?” you asked, amused.

That seemed to have baffled the prince because he did not reply right away. You bit your lower lip, looking away.

“You have to forgive me again. I often speak too liberally. I am a curious person.” You said, avoiding his eyes.

“I shall forgive you if you call me by my name.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, smiling a little as you turned to the prince. “You are uncompromising, are you not?”

Kit chuckled. “I take after my father in that aspect. Now, Y/N, it is a simple favor. I hope you don’t deny me of it.”

“If it shall please you, then, very well,” you said. “Kit.”

The prince beamed and all of the air rushed out of your lungs. He looked much more charming than his cousin, much more handsome and princely as his mouth stretched into this stunning smile. Your eyes stayed on the curve of his lips for a while, feeling your body heat up and your cheeks go aflame with your blush. Never, never had you ever had this reaction before.

“It pleases me, Y/N, to hear my name from your lips.” He grinned.

You smiled as you settled in your seat, playing with your hands. You both were silent for a while but you felt the change in the atmosphere inside the carriage. It felt different… to be friends with your spouse. It was one thing you did not anticipate happening and one thing your heart should be wary of.

“Where did you learn German?” Kit asked as the carriage rolled to a stop inside the town.

“I had an unconventional upbringing. I wasn’t brought up by a governess because it had been hard to find one willing to travel the seas. Instead, my father schooled me on the history of our kingdom and the countries he had seen.” Talking to Kit had been much easier now that you had started addressing him by his name and not his title.

A liveried footman opened the door and the prince descended. You gathered your skirts in your hands, emerging from the door. Kit took your other hand as he helped you down. You clutched at him suddenly when your foot slipped, gripping tightly until you were secure on the ground.

“Thank you, Kit,” you whispered.

“My pleasure, Y/N,” he murmured. “Shall we?”

You nodded as you followed beside him. You straightened, calming your heart as you recovered from your near slip.

“I would assume you learnt the language through your father?” Kit asked as he stopped at stalls and looked at the various fruits and vegetables that were for sale.

You stopped beside him. “Yes, and through the people. While my father worked, I went on excursions. I talked to the citizens of the country and learned everything I could through experience.” You smiled at the merchant. “Your apples look quite delicious, sir. I think them worthy of a position in a nobleman’s table.”

The man preened at your praise. “I thank you, Miss. Please, have one as my thanks.”

“Oh, I thank you but I would not wish for you to miss on a sale.” You told the man.

“Do you want one?” Kit asked beside you.

You turned to the prince. “Only if you shall, Your Royal Highness.”

“Give us a basket of your finest apples,” Kit commanded and nodded at the Captain, who was standing behind him.

You heard the jingle of the coin. Kit passed you an apple and you thanked him, holding the luscious fruit in your hands.

“Thank you, Your Royal Highness, and Miss.” The man said as he pocketed his coins.

“I gather you not only read German but you also speak it?” Kit asked once you had advanced from the stall.

“I would say I speak many languages. I am often the topic of conversation when I come with my father during his meets with other dignitaries and noblemen. As I am a curious person, I took it upon myself to study their languages so I knew what they were talking about.” You smiled at a flower seller. “Your blooms are very beautiful, madam, and their scent so fragrant.”

“Thank you, Miss.” When she saw the prince, she bent into a curtsy. “Your Royal Highness.”

Kit nodded at the woman. “What is it they talk about?” He turned to you.

You had bent over at one of the flowers, smelling the sweet scent of the rose. “They are surprised that my father opted to bring his daughter with him, not his son. I have no siblings and I have nothing to do whilst my father is away. I always insisted that I come along with him because I am fascinated with his work. The other dignitaries and noblemen think me overambitious for wanting to be like my father, since the fairer sex can only be for the home.”

You straightened and turned to the prince, only to find him hand you a bouquet of lavenders.

“Your favorite, if I remember correctly?” he asked as he presented the buds and blooms to you.

You smiled softly, taking the bunch from his hands. “Yes, they are, Kit.” You shyly put your nose on the buds, inhaling its sweet scent.

Kit smiled and he thanked the flower seller. He gestured for the way and you both ambled on.

“Was your father made aware of these topics?”

You nodded. “It is a difficult situation for him; to try and defend his daughter and risk not brokering agreement with the country or to let them insult me but have an agreement done. I developed thick skin since then. I’ve learned to not care for their words because it would not give me success if I do let it dishearten me.”

You both talked as you made your way around the square. People bowed and curtsied at the prince while you commented on the things you have found beautiful or worthy of praise. It was not as beautiful as the markets in Castilla or in Florence but it had it’s own charm unique only to your kingdom. The people were friendlier and happier. They seemed to enjoy their labour, instead of whinging about it.

It was nearing nightfall when you both rode back to the palace. You had learned a lot from Kit as well. He had told you of his aspirations for the kingdom, the laws he wanted to pass and proclaim. He talked more of his mother and her plans for more international trade. He had even asked for your opinions because you had seen what it was like in the other countries while he only learned them from books. For the first time since you had decided you wanted to be a diplomat, Kit’s simple question made you feel like you were one step closer to achieving it.

The merchants all had offered a piece of their sale to the both of you and you arrived at the palace bearing one of everything that was available for purchase in the square. Your most prized possession was the bouquet of lavenders he had given you and you had only let it go for Abigail to bring to your chambers.

“I shall warm your bed for you, miss,” Abigail said when you all had arrived back in the palace.

“Thank you, Abigail. Please, take some of the fruits for yourself and for the kitchen staff. I shan’t be able to eat them all.” You alighted the carriage with the prince’s help once more.

Abigail smiled and bowed at both you and the prince. “Thank you, miss. Your Royal Highness.”

“Let us tell father you have arrived. Perhaps he wishes to know you would like to go have dinner as well.” Kit grinned.

You chuckled lightly. “Do not tease your father, Kit. He is merely worried.” You followed him.

“Then I shall be happy to report that there’s no reason for him to be. We have both survived the trip to the square unscathed.”

You both smiled at each other.

The doors to the dining hall opened and Kit strode in. You stepped behind him.

“You took your time, my boy, but it is no matter.” The king said. He stood from his seat at the head of the table. “Come, Kit, and welcome the Princess Chelina of Zaragoza.”

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The Accidental Princess (Part 2)

Prince Kit x Reader

Summary: A contract has been found, after twenty years, bearing your name and Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Summary: You get settled in the palace.

Word Count: 4.5k words

Warnings: period typical misogyny, none?

A/N: Hi, guys! I'm trying my best with the taglist so if you didn't get tagged, chances are there's something wrong with the way I did it or you're un-tag-able?? Anyway, I know there are a lot of inconsistencies with this piece of fanfic but let's all just enjoy this lol. The lemon juice ink works, though. You can give that a try. I love hearing all about your thoughts! Reviews, comments, suggestions (and reblogs) are most certainly welcome! Here is Part 2 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

It was an unusual request that you asked for lemons with your writing materials but they delivered. You merely said that those were for you to bite on but truly, it was for you to write a message that only your father could decipher. He had taught you the magic of vanishing ink one night during a particularly dreary travel. He had told you that the true message written with lemon juice would only be revealed on top of an open flame. You had tried it once and you were impressed and now, it was your only means of communicating with him without the rest of the palace knowing. This stratagem had only been used for important missives and what else could be more important than for your father to know that you had been married to the prince for two decades and that you would be kept to the palace indefinitely.

You wrote carefully, telling him to keep the information to himself. You had no ambitions of being a princess and the irony of you being one—or being called an ambitious girl by the Grand Duke—was not lost on you. You kept your secret message short and concise, and you also told him no promises of future missives lest you be found out. Once you were finished with the lemon ink, you let it dry and took to writing the obvious message with ink. You scribbled in between the lines written with lemon juice your requests for your trunks, writing implements, and the many books you were supposed to be reading. The letter was short and direct and you sealed it with wax and a sprig of lavender, your unofficial insignia, so your father would immediately know that the message was from you.

When your letter had been sent, a maid arrived, bearing with her a dress for you to change into. She had been scandalized at seeing you in your undergarments, which you had assured her that they were not, and she took it upon herself to start a bath for you.

“What shall I call you, miss?” asked the maid as she scrubbed your shoulders with warm water and simple soap. You had told her that you were fine with bathing yourself but the surprise on her face made you realize that you had asked for the unusual. Of course, guests of the king were expected to be waited on hand and foot.

“Y/N, please,” you replied. “I’m all but noble so please, do not burden yourself with titles to call me. If you are uncomfortable with calling me by my name, you may continue calling me ‘miss.’”

“It is rare for the king to house a common guest, miss, if you don’t mind me saying.” said the girl.

You smiled to yourself. “I find my situation quite uncommon for a commoner like me.” You washed off the lather. “What may I call you?”

“Abigail, miss,” she replied.

You let out a little chuckle then apologized. “Oh, do forgive me, Abigail. I find your parents quite humorous for naming you such.”

Abigail chuckled as well, to your relief. “They are humorous people, miss. My brother Hunter, he is the palace gamekeeper.”

You chuckled. “Oh, dear me. Your futures are already made out for you at the day of your birth.”

“To work for the king and the kingdom is an honor, miss.”

You turned to your maid slowly, careful of the water that sloshed on the side of the tub. “I haven’t been in the kingdom for quite some time, Abigail. Would you mind telling me what has happened in the last years?”

The maid looked at you uncomfortably. You touched the hand nearest to you and smiled. “I promise I shall not tell a soul of the things you wish to tell me. I am merely curious. If I am to be housed here for a while, I would like to be knowledgeable of what has transpired within these walls.”

Abigail looked around your room, you did as well, before nodding. “The Queen Amalie has died.”

Oh. You had not known that. When she was not present at the throne room earlier the day, you only thought she must have been busy with some other affairs. It did not cross your mind that the beautiful and benevolent queen had passed on.

Poor king. Poor Kit.

“What has happened to her?” you asked.

“She had taken ill one morning in the summer and passed on the day after. The king and the prince were devastated. The whole kingdom as well.”

“When was this?” You settled back on your tub.

“Just the year before,” Abigail started washing your hair. “Since then, the king had been in poor health. He is worried for the kingdom’s future should he soon follow his wife.”

“You do not think the prince capable?” you asked. You had known princes were schooled into being future monarchs since their infancy. Perhaps the Prince Kit was otherwise engaged in other matters, in addition to running the kingdom.

“The prince is very capable, miss. However, the king has stipulated that the kingdom be ruled by a king and a queen. Prince Kit has to marry before he ascends the throne.”

Of course. It was the very reason you were called for, after all. Your presence had been a great hindrance to the future of the kingdom. With you still legally wed to the prince, he would not be able to marry the Grand Duke’s niece.

“Does he have a bride he wishes to wed?” you asked when Abigail passed a cloth for you to dry yourself with. Any woman, noble or not, would be inquisitive towards the future queen of the kingdom. Even one married to said prince. You tried to maintain an air of ignorance on the matters so they would not be suspicious of your coming over to the palace.

“The Grand Duke’s niece, miss. It is said she is a princess from Zaragoza.” The maid let out a towel for you and you stood, taking it and wrapping yourself in it.

A princess. It was now truly understandable the ire the Grand Duke had with you. Who else is a better match for the prince than a princess?

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as you remembered the blue of Kit’s eyes. He had looked over at you appreciatively, even in your disheveled state, and you had reacted in a way you had seen women did with their lovers. You knew you were flustered when you looked at him, felt the heat rise to your cheeks and made an utter fool of yourself by giving an ungraceful curtsy. You were often calm and collected, always poised unless the situation called for you not to be, and in that moment, you stumbled. All because of your husband.

Oh, dear.

You needed to stop calling him thus, even in your head. The king would have you locked in the dungeons if he ever caught you referring to the prince as your husband.

The dress Abigail had given you belonged to one of the former guests of the palace. It was a surprise the palace kept it at all; you knew they disposed of things that did not belong to the king or had them given away to a charity of some sort. But this dress, although a bit late in its design, was beautiful in its own way. Abigail had helped you don it, lacing your corset just right and as she laced the back of the dress, it was a surprise at how well it fit you. It was like it was made for you.

“Have you any knowledge of the Grand Duke?” you asked as Abigail buckled your shoes .

“Whatever do you mean, miss?” She took the other shoe and put it on your feet.

“I was not made aware of his presence only until recently. How did he come to be in our tiny kingdom?”

“He arrived as an adviser to the king, miss, about two years ago. We do not know more than that.”

“I see,” you said and smiled at your maid. “Thank you for your help today, Abigail. I hope you would not mind it if I ask you to give me a tour of the palace? I would not wish to get lost in any of the many rooms.”

“I fear I am not in the position to do so, miss.” Abigail said with a quick bob of curtsy. “Is there anything you require before I leave?”

You looked at yourself before the mirror and smiled. “No, Abigail. I thank you for your help. I shall see you again tonight.”

“Miss,” the young maid said before leaving.

You blew out a breath, walking back to the window and looked at the sea once more. The kingdom had suffered for a while, what with Queen Amalie’s passing and the king in poor health. The sudden revelation of your childish endeavours of being accidentally married to the prince would risk the already crumbling state the kingdom to come apart further. You had to help in any way you could; it was the very least you could do.

You strode out of your room, walking down the long hallway. You had a vague memory of where the library was, supposing it hadn’t been changed in the last two decades you had been in the palace. You recalled it being situated near the gardens on the east of the grand staircase, with ornate double doors of gold gilding. If you remembered correctly, portraits of the current royal family and ones of the prince should be hung on either side of it.

You walked down the hallway quietly, counting the rooms and committing to memory the doors and halls you had passed through lest you be lost when you return to your room. You went down the grand staircase, smiling politely at some footmen who opened doors for you. You stood before said ornate doors that you had remembered and once the footmen opened them, you went in.

The scent of wood and books assaulted your nose and you smiled to yourself. Your last trip abroad had been to Austria and you had asked for your father’s permission to take a little bit of an excursion to their famed Imperial Court Library. The place did not disappoint. Murals and frescoes of heavenly bodies adorned the walls and ceiling, with shelves that housed every possible volume of books you could imagine. It was a beautiful place and somehow, the palace library seemed to take that as an inspiration.

Any books on the politics of the kingdom would be a great help to you and to this predicament you put yourself in. You walked over to the section of the library that you thought housed the books on your kingdom’s laws when you did not notice that you were not alone in the room.

“I see you are getting comfortable in the palace, girl,” you heard the Grand Duke say.

You turned to the man and dropped into a curtsy, keeping your head down. “Your Grace.”

“What are you doing in the library?” he asked you in that way of his. His tone was almost always accusing and suspicious, despite meeting you only for a few minutes.

“I was hoping to get something to read, Your Grace.” You replied as you stood back to your full height.

“Anything in particular that you are looking for?” He walked over to you and looked you down through his hawk-like nose.

“Laws of this land, Your Grace,” you said honestly.

The way he chuckled grated on your skin. It was sarcastic and rude. “You are too comfortable, you ambitious girl. First, you marry the prince and now you wish to learn more about the laws of this land? What shall be next, turn us out of the palace?” He scoffed. “Find some light reading. There is a book on herbology that I find would best fit someone of your stature.”

You gave a polite smile. Like most dignitaries you had met, they often looked down on you. You found it best to let them underestimate you instead of engaging them in a fight head-on. You had the power prove them otherwise in the next opportunity. The Grand Duke needed to be surprised that you were more than what you appeared to be.

“Thank you, Grand Duke.” You replied with a quick bob. “Forgive me for intruding on your time in the library.”

You turned to the other side of the library, plucking from the shelves a book on herbs and plants in the German language, before taking two sheets of paper and a pencil.

“I shall bid you a good day, Your Grace,” you called out as you curtsied in his general direction once more. You saw him wave his hand at you dismissively and it cued you to leave the awful man alone.

In the very least, you knew where the library was located. The book about the laws of the land would have to wait. The book on herbology, however, looked interesting. You were conversant in many a language, reading this German book would not pose a problem. It would keep you occupied while you waited for your trunks to arrive.

You walked out to the gardens, smiling and greeting the footmen politely as you passed them. Most of the flowers in the garden were ornamental; you highly suspect they would own herbs in such a fancy orchard. Either way, it was a lovely day out and it seemed fitting that you read the book outside. You sat on one of the benches and opened the tome, starting off with Digitalis purpurea.

Kit saw you emerge from the doors of the palace. If he were honest with himself, he would say he was disappointed that you weren’t wearing your breeches and shirt anymore and that he couldn’t admire your shapely figure but with the dress you had now donned, there was no mistaking the contours your body. He had not had this visceral reaction to the Princess Chelina’s portrait, but then again, he had not seen her in person. You, however, he had seen you and had admired you. Perhaps, more than admired you. There was something different about you and for the life of him, he could not name what it was.

Other than, of course, you and he were bound in matrimony.

He could not find it in him to be angry with you. It was a peculiar situation you both had gotten into, the innocent intentions and legally binding contracts. You did not seem to be an opportunistic girl. He remembered your hope for a friendship with him, your eagerness in trying to copy your father’s way of sealing such relationships, and the way you were excited when you both had (unintentionally) sealed each other’s fate. It was simply laughable and not worth getting furious over, unlike his father and the Grand Duke.

“I see your father’s guest has taken your fancy, Your Royal Highness,” said his good friend, the Captain of the Guards.

Kit only grinned. “Don’t I always take fancy at the next pretty lady, Captain?”

The man chuckled heartily. “Need I remind you that you are soon to be wed to a princess. If there is a time as any to act on your fancy, it would be now.”

He only raised an amused brow, turning to his friend. “Is that so, Captain? Tell me, have you made any advances towards one of the abigails?”

“Her name is Abigail,” corrected the Captain. “And no, I have not. There is no reason for us to talk. For your father’s guest, however, there is. Any guest of the king is the guest of the prince as well, isn’t it?”

“If only it were that simple,” Kit all but sighed. Even if he and the captain were close friends, it would do more harm than good to tell him of your relationship with each other. His father had been adamant that he divorce the two of you quietly so he could push through with the wedding to the princess.

“Why not march over and talk to her? No one would turn away the prince.”

While he knew that was true, Kit did not want to disturb your peace. You were poring over a book on your lap while your hands were moving over a piece of paper. Scribbling, perhaps? he thought to himself as he looked over at you once more. He heard the captain say some words to him but he was only intent on watching you. He only moved when he saw the captain advance towards you with purposeful strides.

“My lady,” he heard the captain say.

Kit followed behind him, taking on an impassive air about him so he did not seem overeager to be talking with you even though he was. He wanted to speak to you once more ever since his father told him of the reason you were here. There was something in him that told him he had to know you better, other than from the words his father and the Grand Duke had said to him about you. He saw you look up from your page and stood when your eyes landed on him.

“Your Royal Highness, sir,” you curtsied before them.

“My name is Captain Thibault, miss. May I know yours?” the captain asked.

You stood to your height, eyes on Kit before turning to Thibault with a beautiful smile on your face.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N, Captain.” you replied.

Thibault nodded to the book in your hands. “May I?”

You offered the book but his friend took the paper instead.

“Are you an artist, Miss Y/N?” Thibault asked as he showed the piece of paper to Kit. “Your sketch is remarkable.”

Kit had been under the tutelage of Master Phineas and he could see that your sketch was excellent with the way you handled your pencil. Your techniques were impeccable. It was like seeing another master’s artwork.

“No, Captain. I was just finding a way to occupy my thoughts. Luckily, I saw a Digitalis purpurea plant in this beautiful garden and decided to draw it so I can further study it inside my room.”

Kit watched you, enamored at the way you were holding yourself. Any woman would have cowered at the sight of the prince and the Captain of the Guards but you remained yourself. There was no air of pretentiousness or false modesty about you and it was very refreshing for him to see that you weren’t one to fall at his feet and wax poetic about his title or his dashing good looks.

“You study plants?” Kit found himself saying. When you turned to him, he felt himself stop at the look of your eyes.

“Oh, no.” You looked at him with your arresting eyes. “The Grand Duke suggested that I read a book on herbology because it befits my stature instead of taking the book I was intending to read. The first plant I saw when the book opened was thus.”

He raised a brow at that. “And what was it that you wanted to read?”

When you caught your lower lip between your teeth, it was a surprise that he did not catch on fire on the spot.

“The laws of the land, Your Royal Highness,” you murmured.

“The laws of the land?” Thibault asked, passing your scrap of paper back to you. “Whatever for?”

“My… friend desires to learn of the grounds of separation. She is convinced she isn’t a fit match for her husband.” You clamped the sheet in between the pages of the book.

German, Kit noted as he peeked at the title of the book you were holding. He learnt German when he was a child and had turned conversant in it. He was suddenly curious as to how you had learned such an arduous language.

“If I may inquire,” Thibault said. You watched the captain with curious eyes. “Why is the lady convinced she is not suit for her husband?”

Kit realized what reply you had given a few seconds before and watched you silently.

“For one, her husband is so above her in stature. It is an unusual marriage, if I dare say so, Captain.” You told them. Your eyes landed on Kit’s once more. “They had unmistakably signed a marriage contract and had been bound since.”

Kit’s lips twitched into a small smile and he found you give him a shy one of yours. Your offense was great in the eyes of his father but to him, it was comical. Absurd and laughable. If Sir William Shakespeare were alive and present, he would have another comedy in his hands.

“You are right, miss. That is unusual.” Thibault said. “But no matter. Should you wish to come back to the library, I am certain His Royal Highness would be of great help to you.”

Kit saw his friend turn to him and he cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Although, I must warn you, the language the laws were written in are in English and some in Latin.”

You smiled, a dimple sinking into your cheek. “It is no matter. So long as the passage is not wholly in Latin, I think I shall understand it.” You told them.

Thibault gave you a polite smile. “Shall I escort you back to the palace, miss? Perhaps even to the library?”

“I thank you, Captain, but I must decline. I wish to tarry just a little. It is a beautiful day out and it would be such a waste to not bask in the sunlight.” You replied.

“Shall we take a turn about the gardens, then?” Kit asked. “I am sure Captain Thibault is needed by his Guards to command them.”

You looked at him, surprised. You flushed as your eyes collided with his and he would not soon forget the rosy hue that came upon your cheeks. Even with all the beautiful flowers that surrounded you, your beauty, to him, was incomparable.

Thibault only smiled in understanding and bowed. “Your Royal Highness.”

“I would not turn down a walk about the gardens.” You turned to Thibault and held out your hand as if asking for a handshake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain Thibault.”

The Captain instead kissed the top of it. “And you as well, Miss Y/N.”

You blushed once more and then slipped your hand on Kit’s offered arm, walking beside him. Kit loved the garden like his mother did. The royal gardener had maintained well the bushes and the flowers. You were right; it would be a waste to spend the day indoors when it was beautiful like this outside.

“Nice day out,” Kit commented when the silence stretched on.

“Yes, it is, Your Royal Highness.” You said with a smile in your voice.

You tilted your head towards the sky and his eyes followed the outline of your face. A strong nose. Flushed cheeks. Flecks of spots across your nose. The little scar. You looked like you belonged in the lively rays of the sun, not inside the cold formality of the palace.

He caught himself looking at you for longer than what was permitted. “Please, call me Kit.” he said as he cleared his throat, turning away from you.

“Oh, I don’t think it proper that I do.” You murmured. You looked straight ahead now as you both walked aimlessly about.

“I insist,” Kit said once more. “After all, we are wed, are we not?”

Your hand squeezed his arm and he felt the heat of your palm even through the sleeves of his coat. “I apologize for that. It was not my intention to ensnare you in marriage.”

“I know,” was all he said. “May I call you Y/N?”

“You may call me whatever you wish,” you said as you bent and plucked a sprig of lavender.

“If I shall call you by your name, you have to call me by mine. It is a fair exchange.” He said with a smile as he watched you sniff the bud.

You smiled as you looked at him. “Still, it is improper, Your Royal Highness.”

“If you carry on calling me that, I shall call you that as well. You are a princess of this kingdom, after all,” he said lightly.

When you remained quiet, he nodded at the flower in your hands. “Do you like lavenders?”

“They are my favorite. I seal my letters with a sprig of this so people know they are from me.” You opened the book and placed the bloom in between the scraps of paper you had inside. “There is a reason why I wanted to read the laws of the land. I wish to help with this predicament of ours.”

Kit only hummed, walking about with you.

“Your father wishes you to be wed.” You told him, this time with a much firmer tone of voice.

“You do not wish to remain wed to me?” he joked.

“I am no princess,” was all you said. It was neither an affirmation nor a negation. Something inside Kit dared to hope. “I would not want to stand in the way of the future of the kingdom.”

He raised a brow and turned to you. You looked at him.

“You’re hardly in the way,” he said, looking deeply into your eyes.

You gave a shy smile. “Are you really as benevolent as your mother? Finding no fault even when I made such a terrible faux pas?”

All the jesting left him at the mention of his mother. It still felt quite taboo for the kingdom to talk about such terrible happening. He thought he had come to terms with it but he had not, judging from his reaction.

Your hand squeezed his arm once more. You both stopped in your tracks.

“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness. I spoke too liberally.”

He nodded stiffly.

“I shall let you be—”

“Kit! Is that you, cousin?”

Kit turned slowly to the voice behind him. His cousin made his way towards the both of you jauntily, smiling as if he did not intrude upon a serious conversation.

“Your father told me I was to find you here with Captain Thibault. I passed the good man on my way and he told me you were in the presence of a lady.” His cousin said.

Kit cleared his throat, nodding again. “Yes. Louis, this is a… friend, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. Miss Y/N, this is my cousin.”

Louis took your hand and bowed over it, kissing your knuckles. “Louis Toussaint, Duke of Granville.”

You let go of Kit’s arm, dropping into an elegant curtsy. “Your Grace.” you said. Kit was positive he heard a smile in your voice.

“Louis shall suffice, Miss Y/N.”

Kit saw the devious smile on his cousin’s face.

You rose to your height, smiling prettily at his cousin. “Very well, Louis.” You said readily.

Kit only raised his brow… and tamped down the vile green-eyed monster that had suddenly come up him.

Whale talk… a mother and her calf/baby. The best sound you can hear while diving close to whales. Mesmerizing.