The Princess and The Pirate

The next morning a sweet smell slowly coaxed the Princess from her sleep. After meeting with Eustace and surviving the utter wreck that the previous night was, she had simply retired to bed. She sniffled and sobbed, but a black dreamless sleep was more than welcome.

Cutting through her tortured rest was the distinct perfume of roses. Influencing her dreams, Jacqueline imagined an alive, strange, and wild painting composed of red, white, pink, and yellow blurs. The incoming chaos encouraged Jacqueline awake. She mumbled incoherently as sunshine beamed its light onto her shut eyes.

“Oh good, m’lady! It’s well past nine!” The nurse and her annoying shrill voice fully roused the Princess. “It’s time to start the day!”

She sighed in response, hating this spy of a woman.

“Some of your dresses have arrived.”

Reluctantly opening her eyes, Jacqueline pushed herself up on her elbows and was instantly overwhelmed by the sight of her room filled with blooming bouquets of flowers in large vases. They were everywhere! They were on the furniture, the shelves, window sills, and even placed on the floor. Brilliant roses in every prismatic shade greeted her. Their elegant, robustly rich smell made it seem as if nature herself had come inside.

“W-what is this?” she stuttered, counting every glistening crystal vase that caught the sunlight. Casting rainbow fragments about the room, there were forty-seven—forty-seven!—mammoth bouquets. It was an entire garden, transported!

“The master said he apologizes for his behavior last night,” the old woman explained while giving Jacqueline a cross look, now knowing the Princess had snuck out, “and hopes these can represent a fraction of his embarrassment.”

Making her way over to one arrangement, Jacqueline plucked a pink rose from the bunch. Stripped of its thorns, she held the long stem in her fingers with no fear. Smelling it, the Princess cast her eyes downward, thinking.

Your legs should open first, just as a thank you! And then if I married you, that’s the privilege!

Eying the numerous flowers, she slowly exhaled as yesterday flooded back. They were all a smokescreen, unbridled sweetness to cover up the sour, life to cover up the rot. The more she thought about the ruse, the tighter her grip became on the rose stem. Did he think she was an idiot? Apparently so if he felt flowers would excuse his rapacity.

There was a folded note sitting upon the vanity. Flipping it open, she read the short message.

“I spent all morning trying to find a flower as precious as you. My efforts were for naught, so accept these imposters as a consolation. I’ve gone for a hunt but I hope to join you for breakfast.”

Good Lord, the slightest suggestion of food made Jacqueline’s stomach growl something barbaric. “You said I had more dresses?” Laying the strangled rose on the tabletop, she tried to bury the indignity deep down. The Princess looked over her shoulder to the nurse, but the help was already laying out a new gown. It was a beautiful light mint green color with a royal navy blue trim lining its edges. Matching blue jeweled shoes were placed on the ground. The entire ensemble must have cost Eustace a fortune.

Only wearing a neutral expression, Jacqueline wordlessly sat herself down at the vanity while her reflection frowned back at her. Trying to see past the sadness, she looked to the bandage across her chest. The Princess ran her nails across the fabric, simply pulling at it.

“Girl, no!” the nurse protested, who was busy selecting the jewelry to go with today’s attire.

“Shut it,” was all Jacqueline snapped as she removed the wrappings. Buried deep into her milk-white skin was a bright red line, stitched closed. The thread that evenly held her flesh closed was quite a sight. Seeing her wound took her breath away. She was only accustomed to the occasional skinned knee and minor cuts. She had even believed those had made her tough.

Well, it was tough, by princess standards.

Now she sported a true scar. It stretched from shoulder to shoulder and the skin had unnaturally bent to heal the long divot. She’d be permanently disfigured by high society’s definition when it was healed. The Princess winced, running her own nail along the fresh and tender gash. It was like an angry grimace, forever growling at the world.

Jacqueline thought of the assassin in the river and how his knife so easily marred her skin with no remorse. She was so easily carved. Surely pigs put up a better fight. The memories continued to bombard her, recalling both the fever of panic and the icy cold of the river. She was so easily drowned! And, after all that, Lillian was now a princess? She was easily replaced. Kyle was gone and she was left all alone.

Finally, she was easily forgotten.

Jacqueline found herself breathing deeply, trying to keep her wily, growing emotions suppressed. All she wanted to do was to scream and it bubbled just under her ribs. Tears built up, glittering along the edges of her eyes. Like a house of cards, it all crumbled on top of her.

“Miss, just relax. All the trouble is far, far behind you,” the nurse cooed, coming behind Jacqueline and picking up a brush, running the soft bristles through the girl’s long red hair. “Let’s get you ready for the day.”

“Alright,” was all Jacqueline could say. A glossy expression in her eyes made her look doll-like and lifeless.

And thus they began the ridiculous ritual of getting ready. She changed from her nightshirt into the underskirts and petticoats. She was fitted into the first layer of the mint-colored gown and the nurse pulled the corset laces tightly. She ironed out every crease and made sure every navy ribbon showed. She polished the accessories’ gems with her sleeve; carefully laying the sapphires and diamonds around Jacqueline’s neck, making sure each stone was more brilliant than the next. Then, the nurse took the matching earrings and tightly pinched Jacqueline’s earlobe to make sure they stayed.

Finishing it off with softly curled hair and heavy makeup, all her trauma and screaming was tightly buried beneath fabric, jewels, and foundation.

Admiring her handiwork, the nurse smiled. “Father in heaven, you are an image,” she said with a gleam in her eye. Jacqueline just curtsied slightly, as was the thing to do. It was all simply habit from this point on, polite smiles and subtle gestures.

The two left the room and descended the stairs into the main part of the castle. The old woman was going on about the age and prestige of the Regent’s home. It was built in the 1100s with imported northern stone on one hundred acres. Two rivers ran through the property and originally it was meant for the Regent Hamburt. He had died of some nasty bug and Eustace had been a mere constable at the time...

The Princess just hummed and agreed with a “You don’t say,” or an “Oh, that’s interesting” when none of it was. The walls were lined with ornate tapestries of elaborate hunts along with a variety of beasts being chased by men and dogs. This guy sure loved hunting.

Or he just loved the thrill of the chase.

The dining room was filled with light as the doors were opened. A great table was stretched before the mammoth windows, all facing out to a great grassy field. It seemed as if every window was tailored to face it.

While being escorted to her seat, Jacqueline interrupted the nurse. Food—an obscene amount of food—was already waiting to be eaten when she sat. “That meadow,” the Princess motioned out the window, “There aren’t any flowers on it. It seems very underutilized. Does the regent have a fondness of it? Everywhere in the castle seems to be facing it. Does he host games on it? Parties?”

The nurse put a cloth across the Princess’s lap, seeming flustered at the question.

“You could call it a fondness,” the nurse replied, slightly offended. “He enjoys looking upon it. It brings him... serenity, I suppose.” Saying nothing more, she motioned for a servant to pour a glass of water for the Princess.

Serenity, from grass? Jacqueline leaned back, skeptical. Leaning on her arm rest, she eyed the field. It brought her no personal comfort. She found it misplaced. A garden, a pathway, or even a patio would be more advantageous to such a wide space.

For a moment she indulged that maybe, just maybe, she could go back to this life of estates and dress-up.

However, the moment food was put on her plate, she completely dismissed the outside world. Ham, eggs, bacon, chicken, fruit, oats, greens, sweets, and bread! Princesses nibble, but Jacqueline devoured. All the pain and all the questions were silenced with food. Instead of entertaining crippling misery, Jacqueline enjoyed the earthly pleasure of breaking crisp grapes in her teeth and savoring the delicious flakiness of croissants.

Sometime between the fourth or fifth ham steak, the hall’s doors opened again. Unaccustomed to standing for anyone other than her own father, the King, Jacqueline paid no mind. All types of men stood for her entrance, however. Biting a luscious strawberry, the juices colored her lips a vibrant red.

Eustace stood there in the room’s threshold. After a minute of no attention, he cleared his throat while adjusting the collar of his coat. He’d wait.

The Princess looked up, quizzically.

The regent brought his eyes to the floor then slid them up to her head. Rolling his hand softly, Eustace prompted her. Was she not a lady at all?

Slowly, leaving the strawberry mess on her chin and lips, Jacqueline pushed her chair back and stood up, awkwardly. Exhaling through her nose, an eerie silence came between the two.

Giving a smile, Eustace nodded his head, finally entering the room. “My Grace, you look well this morning. Did you like the roses?” He watched the Princess’s body language as he spoke. The sunlight lit the woman’s red hair on fire. The golden red strands bounced around her soft, freckled shoulders. He wondered how many she had and amused himself with the idea of counting them.

Burning daggers into the back of her host’s head, Jacqueline sat back down. “They were quite lovely.”

He took a seat at the opposite end of the table. His chair was carved with fine, lifelike details of deer and bears. A large set of antlers decorated the very top of this busy chair. It was pompous and gaudy. Running a finger across his chest, he motioned to her healing scar. “We can have that fixed. Worry not love, we’ll have you pretty again,” Eustace affirmatively announced while serving himself.

Jacqueline played with her fork sheepishly, a little hurt by Eustace’s careless remark. “How was your hunt?” she asked, slowing down the pace in which she put food in her mouth and working exceptionally hard not to see him as the drunken, assaulting asshole from last night. He did seem very tired. The man must have had nerves of steel to still have the composure to ride a horse.

“Well enough, a boar and some small foxes.”

Small foxes? Did he mean baby foxes? Jacqueline found it hard to swallow her food at the moment, imagining the murder of tiny cute fox babies. Changing the subject, she looked down the table at him. “I’d like to go back to Rocqueburne. I’m sure my parents must be worried sick.”

Again, Jacqueline found it hard to swallow. Her parents were already holding a coronation for a new princess. Absolutely. Worried. Sick. But it sounded good enough.

“Of course, but we’ve a few things to sort before then,” he agreed while popping a piece of cantaloupe into his mouth.

“Like?” Annoyed, the Princess took a drink of her water.

“I want us married and you fat with my first son before we arrive,” he said way too casually in between bites of his food.

Spitting back into her cup, Jacqueline peered over the edge of her glass at him. Eustace just kept eating. Everything contained within that sentence was mortifying.

“My dear Regent...” she started with uneasy laughter, “...I-I don’t think that’s quite possible. R-Rocqueburne is but perhaps only a casual two day ride from—”

He cut her off, raising his hand. “You would have me return you, unmarried, to parents who then could marry you off at a whim?”

Jacqueline tilted her brow inward. “I can marry whom I choose.”

“So then you would rather them gossip?”

“No, that’s not what I said, what I mean is—”

“Why not give them a grandchild to celebrate, on top of the return of their daughter?”

“I WANT TO GO HOME, SIR!” Jacqueline shouted over him, sick of being cut off. She threw down her napkin and pushed her plate away.

“YOU ARE HOME!” the Regent shouted back at her, losing his composure. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he averted his eyes to the window. “I think the Princess is done with her food.”

A servant quickly snatched the plate and goblet away.

“Hey!” Jacqueline protested.

“Please escort her upstairs and allow her some time to think about her behavior.” The servant offered his hand to the Princess, motioning towards the door with a pleading expression. He was begging her to take his hand, wordlessly.

She smacked his hand away, glaring at Eustace defiantly. “You cannot discipline me like a child!”

The regent calmly wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up from his seat. Carefully walking beside the table, he dragged his finger along the cloth, admiring the food. Jacqueline leaned back in her chair, getting a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Observing her defensive pose, Eustace watched her chest rise and fall. The skin of her fresh scar stretched and strained. It was a shame. The rest of her was so beautiful.

Coming to a stop right before Jacqueline, his boots clicked on the stone floor. He gently laughed, giving a soft smile to himself, while straightening an out-of-place spoon. Once it was set as he liked, the regent sharply backhanded the Princess in her seat. Before the pain had even registered, he ripped her from it, pulling her to her feet.

“You are but a little, little girl,” Eustace whispered hoarsely, digging his fingertips into the meat of her upper arms, “AND I DO NOT TAKE INSUBORDINATION FROM CHILDREN,” he bellowed, dragging the Princess with him out of the room. “IF YOU ARE GOING TO ACT LIKE A SPOILED BRAT, YOU WILL BE TREATED AS SUCH.”

“S-stop it, pl—“ Jacqueline pleaded, dazed but terrified for her life.

Taking the stairs two at a time, the Regent pulled the Princess along easily.

Storming down the hall, he kicked open her bedroom door with his dirty boot. It smacked against the wall, breaking a vase full of roses in the process. “You’ll stay here until you learn your place,” Eustace sneered, tossing the Princess roughly onto the bed. She fell against the springs in a flurry of skirts and fabrics, gracelessly knocking over more bouquets.

Hitting the comforter, Jacqueline was at an utter loss for words, looking over her shoulder at Eustace, never having been struck before. Heaving and puffing, Jacqueline’s stitches couldn’t stand her breathing and two strands popped at all the action. Losing a shoe somewhere during the ordeal, she curled her stocking covered legs upwards, trying to move away from him.

“I will not marry you!” the Princess cried out, tears wetting her eyelashes. Clawing herself more onto the bed, she hoped to put as much distance between him as she could. “I’ll never marry you!” Jacqueline slid backwards more, losing her second shoe. As it clattered against the ground, Eustace grabbed her foot, hindering her escape.

“You act as if you have a choice,” the regent said grimly, rubbing his thumb against her hose-covered foot. “A lady has only her chastity. Once that’s gone, there’s nothing left. She’s used up.” He roughly pulled her ankle, bringing the frightened woman to the edge of the bed towards him. Her skirts rose up to the lacy tops of her stockings at the friction. Eustace had a vice grip on her ankle and the slightest look of enjoyment on his face.

“After that, there’s nothing to do but marry her off to anyone who’d have her.”

Wearing a look of both horror and death, Jacqueline was near sobbing. Tears she was afraid to cry dragged black charcoal mascara stains down her cheeks. Looking up at him, the Princess trembled. She could tell him. She could ruin his whole day and tell him about the night at the church with Kyle, but Jacqueline had the feeling that even if he knew, he still wouldn’t let her go.

The Regent would want whatever he felt due to himself, regardless. There was too much invested to simply let her go.

Through the layers of makeup, a bright red handprint appeared, still stinging and radiating heat from his strike.

This seemed to cut through to Eustace, light finding a way back into his dark eyes. The Princess’s pinpoint pupils and the mark of his own violent handiwork sobered up the offended man. Whatever pleasure he had gained was lost. The regent stood straighter, threw her leg away from him, and adjusted his collar, gathering himself.

Quelling hysteria, Jacqueline only took rapid, shallow breaths, watching him. Drips of blood slid free from her healing scar.

“You will stay here until you come to your senses. When you understand that my way is the best way, we’ll leave together.”

She said nothing. He meant imprisonment until compliance.

Breathing hard, he turned and walked out, crushing roses under his boot as he exited. He slammed the door behind him.

The moment he was gone, sobs filled the air. Jacqueline crumbled to the ground, completely inconsolable. Walking down the hall, Eustace met the nurse who was waiting patiently at the top of the stairs. She knew this song and dance.

“Do not let her out for anything less than my summons,” he ordered, not even pausing to speak as he descended the stairs.

The nurse curtsied at her master’s order.