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She did marry the prince, who eventually became the king. But she did not do it for the normal reasons. Not for power. Not for riches. Not even for love. She married the future king for two reasons really. For honor. She was nothing if not a dutiful princess and daughter. And she married for curiosity.
“Curiosity?” you might ask.
Indeed. Curiosity. But perhaps we should start a little closer to the beginning.
The monarchy was in trouble. The king had come up against some smaller fiefdoms that had banded together. They were causing him troubles with their visions of glory. Even though he had always been a good king to his subjects and benefactor to those in the surrounding areas.
The trouble was not his own subjects. Good King Darius was beloved. His kingdom had been peaceful. For many generations, in fact.
King Darius had been named after Darius the Mede. And like the Mede, he had his own Daniel. But his wise man’s name was Horace.
Horace was thoughtful. He was wise. But above all, he was loyal. He had advised the king in his affairs for many years. As he had advised the king’s father and grandfather. Yes, Horace might have been long in tooth and grey of hair, but he was still sharp. And he had information from far and wide.
Horace had heard the rumblings. The fiefdoms around King Darius had started rattling their sabers. But they mistook the king’s peace and prosperity as weakness. Still, there were more and more fiefdoms around their peaceful kingdom who were looking to grab lands or make war just for the sake of making war. Horace thought he knew why.
Horace bowed before the king. “O King Darius, live forever.”
The king smiled. “Horace, how many times must I tell you that you need not address me that way. It is a remnant of times past. Time passed long ago.”
Horace smiled back. “Yes, o king. But those times and those rituals had their place. And in my place as your advisor, I do well to remember that you are my king. My liege.”
“Very well.” The king sighed. “It is no use arguing with a wise man such as yourself. A man who looks forty, but who I know is at least twice that age.”
“You flatter me, Sire.”
The king narrowed his eyes and grinned a mischievous grin. “But you still won’t tell me how old you are.”
“No.”
“Very well.” The king sat up straighter on his throne. “Well, then. What say you?”
Horace frowned and furrowed his brow. “The fiefdoms are following the lead of Lord Lucius, my lord.”
“Lucius.”
“He seems to think that if he gets enough smaller fiefdoms to follow him that he can be king in your stead. He thinks that he has the wherewithal to not only defeat you, but to rule this peaceful realm. Even to rule greater lands than these.”
“And what say you, o wise counselor?”
Horace continued to frown. “You must forge an alliance.”
“An alliance?” King Darius’s eyes grew wide. “An alliance with Lucius?”
Horace laughed. “No, Sire. Not in a thousand lifetimes would I recommend such a course of action.” He furrowed his brow once again, but did not turn his smile into a frown as before. “No. I suggest an alliance with a farther neighbor. An alliance with another worthy kingdom.”
“With Gerard?”
Horace nodded.
“But… But… How have you hit upon such a strange notion?”
Horace grinned. “You know o king.”
The king stood. He frowned and stomped his foot. “I forbid it.”
“He was a young man then. Probably still a boy in mind if not in body. It was youthful pride and maybe his father, King Gerard, put him up to it. But Prince Leo was not really ready for marriage then. He has since proven himself loyal and true. Brave and steady. Honorable above all else. And he knows that Lucius is cunning and deceitful. Lucius has approached King Gerard to make an alliance through marriage, but the prince has rejected any and all advances on that front. He sees right through Lucius and the rabble he tries to lead.”
The king stammered. “But… But… But Gwendolyn. My daughter. My princess. Gwendolyn.”
“She is ready to do her duty my liege.”
“But Gwendolyn.”
Horace lowered his voice. “We could always ask her, my lord.”
The king’s eyes grew wide. He shouted, “Gwendolyn!”
She came from somewhere on the king’s left. Her head was down. But Horace could see that she was trying not to smile.
“How much have you heard child?”
Gwendolyn frowned and stomped her foot. So much like her father, Horace thought.
“I keep telling you father, that I am not a child. I am a woman.”
“Women do not eavesdrop,” Horace said without any hint of emotion.
Gwendolyn smiled. “They do if they’re training to be spies.”
Horace smiled back, “And who, pray tell, are you training to be a spy for?”
“You, o wise and wonderful counselor. You, Horace. Long of tooth and grey of hair. You and good King Darius, my father.”
“Nobody asked you to be a spy.” The king frowned.
Gwendolyn lowered her eyes. “I know father.” She looked into the king’s eyes. “I am just letting you know that whatever duty you want me to perform, I am ready. To be a spy. To be a peace offering. To be the unbreakable bond between two allies. I am here for you and for the kingdom.” She kneeled before her father.
King Darius glowered. He shook his head. He paced in front of his throne. He stopped and looked directly at Horace, then down at his still kneeling daughter. “Will he be good to her?”
“I believe the prince has shown great character.”
The king looked at his trusted counselor and raised an eyebrow.
“Since the incident, your Majesty.” Horace smiled.
King Darius smiled. Gwendolyn looked up at her father and gave him a glimpse of a start of a smile. A smile, Horace was sure, that was ready to be wiped away at the slightest displeasure of the king. The king directed his gaze to Horace again. His eyes bored through his counselor.
“Will he love her?”
Horace pursed his lips. “Love is a choice, Sire. And I believe young Prince Leo has chosen to love your daughter. You could see it when he jousted with your most seasoned knight. He would not have given up the sword fight either had you not stopped it. Even if it had been mortal combat. He has chosen, Sire.” Horace looked at Princess Gwendolyn who was looking back at him. “And I believe he has chosen wisely.” He looked at the king again. “I have heard that many a princess has tried to turn Prince Leo’s head, but he rebuffs them all. And when Lucius offered his daughter, Prince Leo was diplomatic but refused.”
Horace reached out to the princess and she stood. He looked from father to daughter. “Will they have romantic love? Love that will be written about for years to come? I do not know. What I do know is that romance comes after the choice to love. At least true romance. Romance that grows with the love. That grows with the choice.”
King Darius slumped down on his throne. His face was drawn and haggard. He looked at Horace who was stone-faced. Then, he turned his gaze to his daughter. “And what say you, daughter?”
Princess Gwendolyn looked at Horace, then at her father. She knelt down again and grabbed his hands. Father and daughter shared a moment of silence holding hands.
“I say, ‘Yes.’ I will marry Prince Leo. For duty. For honor. For the hope of that romantic love. And for curiosity.”
King Darius looked at his counselor, who shrugged. Gwendolyn smiled as she looked from the man she considered her greatest friend to her father. She smiled. “I am curious if grey-haired wise Horace is right about love. I am curious if Prince Leo truly made a choice to love me those several years ago. I am curious if poets and song writers will write about our love for years to come. Just as they have written about your love for my mother. Just as you yourself have written about your love, which will never cease though she died these several years ago. I am curious if ours will be just a joining of kingdoms or a joining of souls.” Gwendolyn smiled. “I marry for honor and for curiosity, o King. May you live forever.”
The three smiled. King Darius laughed. “Dear daughter. You have spent too much time with Horace or with eavesdropping. Either way, know this. I will be happy to rest with your mother once I know that you and your prince have made your choice to love one another.” He winked. “Although, once I know that, I will be happier to stay around when I hear of a grandchild. Or two or three.”
King Darius nodded at Horace.
Horace called out, and a knight and his page appeared. “Go at once to King Gerard.” He looked at King Darius. “We are to have a joining of kingdoms.” He looked at Gwendolyn. “And we will have a joining of souls in holy matrimony. A much more important union than mere kingdoms.”
Gwendolyn smiled. She was ready for love. Love for king and curiosity.
“I think I just met the happiest person in the world!”
The words ring in my head as it echoes into every crevice of my soul. It bounces off the walls that keep my organs and blood vessels intact. Only I can hear these thoughts as I look into the reflection looking back at me in the mirror. So flawed. I can see the visible cracks in the facade staring back at me.
“I wish I could be that happy”
She had a skip in her step. She always seemed so eager to help those around her. To feed the birds that squabbled by. To hold open the door for those behind her. To be free of the weight that held her down. She seems like the happiest person in the world.
What I would give to know no evil lurking under the surface.
My grandmother leaned over my head, wiping hair from my forehead. Her gnarled skin made me think of oak trunks.
“The princess did not like the king at first. No, not at all,” she whispered with a soft voice. I hadn’t heard this bedtime tale before. “She tried to avoid him, staying in her chambers. Yet he would always come, once at noon and once at evening. He would ask for her hand in marriage, and she would decline each time.” My grandmother shook her head. “But one day he came in the morning, and brought an axe with him.”
“An axe? Like to cut wood?” I asked sitting up, eyes wide.
“Like to cut wood, yes. And he held it to the princess’ head and told her that if she didn’t marry him, he would chop her down like a trunk.”
I shivered. Grandmother’s tales were never like this. I wanted talking the talking animals and pretty flowers back. There was a look in her eye, though, as if she wanted to get this story out for a long time. I wondered where she heard it, but when she said her next words, I knew:
“Ultimately, she decided to marry the king, but not for power or riches. For fear. To save her life, and the life of her future kids.” Grandmother swallowed hard. “Goodnight, sweet pea. Sleep well.”
I didn’t sleep well that night, and the next morning mother told me grandmother was dead.
I had struggled for hours, thinking that maybe I should just give up. Becoming so weak over the past few months, I could feel myself withering. I knew I wasn’t going to survive very long, so I decided to bake cookies for my hospice nurse to thank her for taking care of me. In hindsight, it was not a very good idea. But in the end, I had a lot of help from my husband, and my extremely eager ten year old daughter. Once they saw me struggling, they practically rushed to help me. We made the cookies and gave them to my nurse. She cried so hard as she embraced me, telling me that I was the strongest cancer patient she had ever known. From beyond the grave, I must say that this is my favorite memory, and I will be watching over that nurse until the end of her days. I will protect her with all that I have, because she deserves the world.
I struggled in your absence
You flourished in yours
What was left to me, was the end of my rope
And so I tied a knot and held on
The thread cut into me
The blood ran down my extended arms
There was nothing beautiful about the crimson painting me
The beauty found was in my resistance
A voice spoke to me, “don’t you dare give up”
A voice that mirrored my own
And soon my feet touched solid ground again
Was it only a lesson to be learned?
What I found,
Was you came back, but I no longer need you
As the princess walked down the aisle she smiled from ear to ear. The guests looked warmly upon their soon to be Queen and were happy to see their old King find love in his later years.
The King reached out to his bride, tears of joy wetting his cheeks as the princess took his hands in hers and they completed the ceremony.
That night as they lay in their marriage bed the Queen waited for the sound of her husband’s first snore.
She climbed out of bed and tiptoed round to his side before pushing his messy hair behind his ear and placing a tender kiss on his forehead.
Then after standing up straight she clicked her neck and scowled as she reached over him to grab one of her pillows.
She brought it down onto his sleeping head and sang to herself as she waited for his gasping to seize.
Once satisfied she dumped the pillow and stormed out of the room.
Servants bowed before her before looking at the door she left open with curiosity.
She stormed down the halls barefoot as the distant sounds of screaming servants found their dead king.
She scarcely made it to the top of the stairs before she was apprehended and restrained in cuffs.
She made no effort to fight back as she was pushed spear on back towards the tower where she would no doubt await her death sentence.
As she sat in her cell she smiled to herself for she had gotten her revenge.
My words were foolish,
You praised them as truth.
My actions were flawed,
You said I do no wrong.
You fattened me with sweet words,
While my brothers starved at my side.
I ask why, you say why not?
But while you softened me,
My brothers grew strong.
Their backs bent with their own weight.
Their hands were calloused,
Their souls were tough.
But you kept me from that greatness
That knowledge of struggle that rose them high.
I have no love for you, mother.
I have no respect for you, father.
For in your game of favorites.
You dragged me lower than before.
Ultimately, she decided to marry the king, but not for power or riches. She didn't have the luxury of being so greedy. She didn't have the luxury of marrying for love, either. No. Ivy Devereaux was forced to marry for safety.
Now, make no mistake. King Evander Lockwood was more than well aware of the situation. Their marriage was his idea in the first place, and Ivy was endlessly grateful for it.
It didn't, however, mitigate the fact that it was a shitty situation for everyone involved. And not for nothing, but the last thing Ivy really wanted to be was the queen. She didn't want the responsibility or the publicity or the pomp and circumstance. It was the publicity as well as a whole entire team of guards and security, however, that would be her shield. Ivy would just have to learn to accept it, maybe even welcome it.
Evander was a good king and an even better man. Obviously, if he was willing to vow himself and the kingdom to Ivy just for her safety. He might even be willing to let her have some say is the way he rules the kingdom. After all, Ivy knows far more about the everyday citizen than Evander ever will. If she gets the opportunity to enact some sort of change that will save even one woman from suffering a fate similar to hers, she decided that it will all have been totally worth it.
And so there Ivy was on her wedding day, all eyes on her as she floated down the aisle in a larger-than-life-dress, the very picture of tasteful, stunning elegance. The tiara on top of her head and the bouquet in her hands completed the grandeur look as everyone in attendance was rendered speechless by the sheer beauty and grace of their soon-to-be-queen. Even in the silence, however, the wind was whispering in Ivy's ear, one simple phrase on repeat: Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ivy Devereaux Lockwood.
The wind blows my hair. I’m standing on the edge again, gazing down upon the jagged rocks below. Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to jump?
The tears rolling down my cheeks burned like a thousand hot knives impaling my flesh, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain I was feeling. My heart was broken, my soul was gone and so was any form of self-worth or life purpose I had left.
I desperately wanted to jump. What was the point in living if I had lost all my purpose?_ Life sucks… I just want to die…_
Taking a step towards the edge, I felt my heart rapidly pound. What if I regretted it once I jumped? It would be too late for me at that point. But… I didn’t really care.
Another step forward. I took another step forward. Closer than ever before. __ Just a few more steps until it’s over… just a few more steps… and it’ll all be over… keep going…
Death was the prize motivating me to move my feet, so I did. I moved until I was off the edge, falling down to my inevitable doom, falling… falling… falling…
Until I wasn’t. Everything went black. I was finally dead.