Princess Ophelia's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Princess Ophelia woke to the sound of curtain rings sliding. She had been promised to the same prince since she was two years old. She had never met him. In two months she would marry him to settle a border dispute, and no one had asked what she wanted. Her mother stood at the window. "Ophelia my dear, it's time to wake," said Queen Rosalind. She pulled the heavy drapes wide. Light fell across the blue gown laid out for the day. The queen's red hair was already pinned neat, though the morning had barely begun. Ophelia sat up. She fixed the blue circlet on her brow and kept her voice soft. "Good morning, Mother." She had never once refused her parents. She did not plan to start now. "Your father waits in the great hall," Rosalind said. She smoothed a wrinkle from the gown with one hand. "He wishes to speak of the wedding." Ophelia's stomach tightened. "May I ask him something first?" Rosalind paused. She turned from the window and studied her daughter's face. For a moment her queenly mask slipped. "You may ask," she said. "But be gentle with him. He believes he is protecting you." They walked down together. King Alaric stood at the far end of the hall, dark robes trailing, a scroll spread on the table before him. He looked up and smiled. "There she is. Come, we have much to arrange." Ophelia stopped a few steps away. Her hands felt cold. "Father, I will do as you ask. I always have." She drew a breath. "But I want to meet him before the vows. I want to know his mind, not just his crown." The king's smile faded. He set down the scroll. "You would question the agreement?" "No," Ophelia said. "I would honor it. I only ask to ride to his kingdom and speak with him myself. If I must give my whole life to a stranger, let me at least learn who he is." Silence held the hall. Rosalind moved to her husband's side and touched his arm. She said nothing, but the king glanced at her and something passed between them. Alaric studied his daughter for a long moment. He saw the circlet steady on her brow and her chin held level. "You have never asked me for anything," he said. "Very well. You will travel to his kingdom at week's end. Meet him. Judge him." He raised one finger. "But the wedding stands, whatever you find." Ophelia bowed her head. "Thank you, Father." She left the hall with her heart pounding. She had won the journey. Yet the terms were plain. In seven days she would ride to a prince she had never chosen, to search for a mind worth loving in a man she was already bound to marry. If she found nothing there, the vows would come anyway.