Chapter Text
The empty halls of the manor echoed loudly with footsteps on stone. As you and your lady's maid, Emma, made your way from your residence to the great hall a feeling of dread settled heavily in your chest. You knew why your father summoned you; there was no other reason that he could have for you to don your finest gown at this hour.
Outside a storm raged, the deluge splattering against the windowpanes, lightning flashing brilliantly followed by rolling thunder. The storm had raged for weeks; an omen, the simple folk had said. All along the coast there were rumors of girls walking into the squall never to be seen again, reason enough for them to demonize a simple act of nature. Still, something about the prolonged nature of the thunderstorm sent a shiver down your spine when you thought on it too long.
Oh, to be one of those girls; to fade away into the darkness, to walk away from it all and be lost to the world. But that wasn’t your fate; the world had a crueler fate for you, one which you marched toward with resignation. Since you were born, you were promised to a man you’d never met. He was utterly unknown to you except through name: Philip Golding, Crown Prince and future King of the realm.
Tales of the man’s terrible disposition and rotten demeanor were widely known; even the nobles spoke unfavorably of the Crown Prince. Yet you were the one whom he would wed and with whom he would produce heir after heir until your body was worn and ragged. Your entire upbringing had been in preparation of this day, though you did at least benefit from his affinity for war. The latest round of battles and conflicts had carried him to far off lands and for many years. Now, you were well into your twenties and though you were considered past prime childbearing age, rumors of your beauty had reached the Despicable Prince’s ears, and he considered the lost time worthwhile. Even if it should come to pass that you could not bear and heir, he would keep you as his trophy and plant his seed in some poor serving girl, thus preserving the royal line while still having you visible by his side, a mockery to all who beheld you.
Your father had nearly cried from joy at the news that Philip still planned to have you. In the time that it had taken for the letters to pass between the manor and the capital city, he’d nearly passed on from the anxiety. His salvation was still secure as long as you married the Crown Prince. He’d seen to it from the moment you were born and declared female that your existence would serve him and his comfort. Sidling up to the King, making comments on your mother’s unending beauty and hearing the King agree, he knew he’d be successful in solidifying a betrothal between you and the then infant Prince.
In the years between then and now your mother had succumbed to tuberculosis and died, leaving you alone with your father. After all these years you still abhorred him for the way he’d sold you for his own gains. Now, as you stood outside the door to the great hall your hands shook, not in fear, but in rage. When Emma pushed the door open it groaned in protest, and you plastered a serene smile on your face feeling the same groaning rise up inside you.
Standing at the far end of the hall next to the fireplace was your father and a man you knew only by the few descriptions you’d been given by the servants. Henry Greene, the Crown Prince’s personal courier and supposed close friend. Though you were still far from him it seemed likely to you that he was in his thirties, taller than your father and handsomer too, with a shock of red hair and a stoic expression. Whether his expression was a result of being soaked through on his travels to reach the manor, probably on horseback, or whether that was his natural expression remained to be seen.
“Ah, yes, my beautiful daughter! I apologize for making you wait so long for her arrival, she does tend to dawdle.” Your father bellowed as you approached, the look of disapproval plain on his face.
“Nonsense, I was hardly made to wait and after all I did not intend to call her at this hour. That was your choice, sir.” Henry replied in a tone edged with distaste.
“Right... Well, she is here now! What say you; are the tales of her beauty not true?” Your father simpered. Henry turned his gaze to you, and it was as if he could see through to your very soul making you pause your advance.
“Hmm. Handsome enough to tempt His Majesty at the very least.” Henry answered curtly, a slight curl at the corner of his lips telling you his true meaning. With a rehearsed smile you bowed deeply then stood straight up, eyes blazing orbs as you replied.
“You are too kind good sir; I endeavor to be the only temptation in the eyes of my betrothed.” Your tone was dripping with saccharine undertones, but judging from the way Henry smiled, this time genuinely, you got the impression that you passed some secret test. Your father looked displeased to say the least.
“Well, you have met her. Is there any other business you wish to make known or is it off to bed with you?” Your father asked, his eyes darting between you and Henry.
“Actually, there was one other important matter I wished to discuss. The matter of my Lord, His Majesty the Crown Prince, and his impending arrival to this manor.” Henry stated. You watched in quiet delight as your father’s face paled, and his mouth popped open in surprise or possible protest. Clearly, he thought better of the latter option and waited for Henry to continue.
“He will arrive a week from today, ready to bear your daughter hence. Once they arrive at the capital, the wedding shall take place.” He didn’t mince words, straight to the point in a way that left you trying to process what he’d just said. One week? He’d be here in one week? That was hardly enough time to prepare the manor, let alone all of your things and, most importantly, yourself. A meeting that seemed so far off that it might never happen was suddenly one week away and you wanted to do nothing more than run away.
“Excellent! We shall prepare for the Crown Prince’s arrival immediately! Now, let’s see to your accommodations for the evening!” Your father clapped his hands and a wizened old man stepped out from behind a curtain that blocked the existence of the servant’s corridor beyond. “Robert, take our honored guest to his room!”
“At once, m’lord.” Robert replied with a wheezing voice, indicating for Henry to follow him.
“If that is all you need of me, I should like to retire to my own rooms for the night.” You curtsied and turned to face Henry as he walked up. “It was a wonderous pleasure to make your acquaintance sir.” You trilled. He had a gleam in his eye when he nodded back to you.
“Likewise, fair lady.” Henry responded with a restrained, but once again genuine smile.
“Yes, yes, you may return to your rooms.” Your father allowed, a look of panic beginning to wash over his face at the thought of the future King visiting his manor in a week’s time. Needing no more permission, you turned with Emma and followed Henry and Robert out the doors of the great hall. With one last curtsy, you turned and made your way as swiftly as you could back the way you came.
Once you were sure Henry was out of earshot you whispered to Emma, “A week is hardly enough time when I’d sooner grow wings and fly away to escape this fate.”
“My lady, this news truly is unexpected. Are you... are you feeling alright?” Emma whispered back in earnest.
“Hardly. I feel as though I may throw up or sob, perhaps both. My life is truly over.” You admitted as the two of you hurried along through the night.
“Does my lady truly wish to get away?” Emma asked in a careful tone.
“No!” You replied quickly, then quietly added, “Yes. More than anything I wish to fly into the beyond and never return.” It felt like your heart might claw its way out of your chest and your hands trembled. Emma pulled you aside against a pillar, looking around to make sure there weren’t unwanted watchers in the night.
“I could help you get out.” She whispered just loud enough to be audible. Your eyes went wide, and a lump formed in your throat. “It’s only an option if you truly wish to avoid this fate so much that you’d forfeit your life as it is.” Emma looked up into your eyes, and you felt a heaviness in the air, like you were speaking of something forbidden beyond running away to a neighboring country.
“What must I do?” You asked simply, jaw set with determination.
“Well, you know those girls that have been disappearing? A traveling cleric has confirmed that they were taken by a siren. He’s renowned for his specialty in supernatural creatures, but the information has been hidden in order to avoid hysteria amongst the local sailors and merchants making port. Turns out, the siren is the reason for the storms.” Emma spoke with such conviction that you couldn’t help believing her.
Over the years you’d heard tales of werewolves, vampires, and the like. This was your first time hearing of a siren, though your proximity to the ocean made it highly likely that there was truth to the tale Emma told.
“How does a siren help me?” You questioned, needing more to go on.
“Well, if you were to run off, they’d just hunt you down and bring you back. I figure you have to disappear for good, and the siren can do that. All you have to do is go down to the cove just South of the manor and they’ll find you. But you have to go now. Who knows how long the siren will still be here?” Emma instructed feverishly.
The more she talked, the more your head hurt. Was this truly your only option? Find the siren or marry the Deplorable Prince Philip? A small voice in your head told you to lay down and endure the path set forth for you. A stronger voice told you to take control of your own life or death in this case. Either way it would be your ending, though the prolonged soul death of royal breed mare to a tyrant seemed less and less ideal to the death offered by the siren.
“If I leave, you must all know what will happen to you.” Your eyes were wide as you grasped Emma’s hands. She smiled up at you in that sad way she did when your mother died, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“My lady, whether by old age or by the sword, my life and death are yours to dictate.” Emma lifted your hands in hers and pressed a small kiss on your knuckles. Your chest tightened and you swept her into a hug that stole her breath away.
“You’ve been my greatest friend and ally through these years. I will not forget you and I pray you do not forget me. Show me where to go and I will flee from this place.” You knew there was no life in these walls that you wanted to live, and there was no other way to avoid this fate. Still, fear seeded itself in your mind, but that fear wasn’t as strong as your conviction that marrying Philip was the last thing you could be prevailed upon to do.