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Chapter Text

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March 1, 1544
Wyndon Palace

Finally, I am home.

Today was the day Victor and I returned home from Circhester, where we spent a wonderful winter in the mountains. It was so cosy there, soft gray and tan bricks allowed the palace to blend in with the breathtaking scenery, tall oak and evergreens covered in a thick layer of snow. Victor so loves taking the stable boy out hunting with him in the forest, practicing with their bows and proudly bringing back the day’s catch for supper. Lady Marnie and I would spend our days out in the snow. I am much too old to play in the snow, but oh it is such fun, and the look on Lady Marnie’s face when I caught her off guard with a perfectly aimed snowball has kept a smile on my face all day.

But now, spring has come, and I am relieved to finally be home. As much as I love Circhester, Galarian Court is so very different. One must speak so particularly, so carefully, lest you disrespect the King and Queen, even as their own child. But every day is so interesting here at Court. There are always new faces, hushed voices, letters and secrets and needs to be met. There is nary a dull day when one is at Court.

And because of this, my own first day at Court has been quite…unexpected. Father informed me at supper that a Prince will be arriving in the morning to meet me. He is from Kalos, and it is believed that a marriage between our kingdoms will strengthen our nations and quell any threat of war.

I am nervous about meeting this prince. I do not wish to leave my home of Galar, to marry a man I barely know, and spend my days in a strange land. But I am a princess, and it is my duty to my kingdom.

But here, in this diary gifted to me by my governess Sonia, I can be true to myself and my heart. I knew the moment I laid eyes on this book, bound in rich brown leather and embossed with the Saber blade, the symbol of our house, that I need not worry about my language, I can call the king Father and the Queen Mother, for that is what they are, and I can spill my heart’s deepest desires. This diary will be my companion, the only one I can trust my deepest secrets to, even the ones I dare not share even with Lady Marnie.

My candle burns low now, and the night marches on without me. Tomorrow I will meet with Prince Calem. Oh how I hope he is nice.

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March 2,  1544

I awoke this morning to the birds’ song,  a calm, sweet melody, and in such contrast to how I felt.  The butterflies in my stomach never calmed while I slept. I sat on my balcony as I awaited breakfast, watching the gardener tend to his work. There was something about how he expertly trimmed the rose bushes, or how gently he mulched the dirt each spring, coaxing the sleeping plants to reawaken for the season, that calms me.

The garden is my favorite place in the whole palace. It is always filled with romantic blooms of soft pink and deep purple. My favorite of all is the camellia tree, which is especially stunning in the morning light. I can see it even from my balcony. It is not a tall looming oak, sturdy and unyielding, but small and delicate, with wide outstretched branches that are full of the most beautiful blossoms this time of year.

It is under this tree that I spend much of my time. I adore chatting with Lady Marnie there, sharing secrets and eating sweets, hidden by the many azalea bushes that give us some semblance of privacy. I also find its little alcove the most peaceful place to play my violin, its melody so enchanting in the open air. And on rare occasion, I have even convinced my tutors to let me study out there, on a nice sunny day.

But all too soon the truth of today’s events reasserted itself in my mind. The gates opened loudly as an ornate carriage was ushered through. Trumpets sounded to announce Prince Calem’s arrival, and everyone has taken notice. I am now to dress and present myself in Court to meet him.

I will inform you of how it goes when I return.

〜

Oh, dear diary, it was truly as awful as I’d feared.

The Throne Room was alive with hushed whispers and careful glances as I entered. There, in the middle of the room, was Prince Calem, introducing himself to the Court. He’s tall, with hair as black as the night and eyes a cold, charcoal gray. An intimidating figure, to be sure.

“Your Grace.” he said to me with a slight bow.

“Gloria, please.” I told him. If this is to be the man I wed I would prefer we call each other by our given names.

“Calem.” he said quietly, almost curtly, before he turned back to Mother and Father, and introduced those who accompanied him.

As expected, he brought his advisor, Lady Drasna, to oversee the negotiations for our potential arranged marriage, and his personal guard, Captain Wikstrom, to oversee his protection.

Lady Drasna has a relaxed air about her, almost motherly and kind, but there’s something else behind her eyes that sent a chill down my spine. She left soon after with Rose, Lord Chancellor and Father’s most trusted advisor. He has a way of charming any woman he meets, much to the frustration of his wife, Lady Oleana, and it seems Lady Drasna is no exception. Surely he expects her to be easily manipulated, but even I can see that is not the case.

Captain Wikstrom however, is an expectedly intimidating figure, towering over Prince Calem and Lady Drasna, with his gold-laden armor polished to an impressive shine. He bowed to us, low and respectful. He reminds me so much of the Captain of our own royal guard, Leon, although far more serious. Leon has always given me a smile whenever I see him. I’m not entirely sure Captain Wikstrom even knows how.

But this we expected. What we did not expect, was his personal chef Seibold, who, with a low bow, requested urgent access to our kitchens so he could prepare a proper meal for the Prince and I to eat. A proper meal? I had hoped at the time that I simply misunderstood, that this wasn’t an insult to our cuisine, but now I’m not so sure.

Mother and Father seemed entirely unfazed by this display, so happy to see Prince Calem had arrived safely. I, on the other hand, felt no love from him, no kindness. This seemed simply business and nothing more. I felt my heart sink as I listened to them talk. My heart aches as I write this, even now.

Mother insisted I take him to the garden to get to know him, that I play him a tune while we wait for our meal under my beloved tree, where we could have some privacy. I did my best to hide my sorrow. I sent a maid to fetch my violin,  and lead him to the garden in relative silence.

“Believe me, Gloria,” he said suddenly, as we walked passed the rose bushes. “This is all happening just as quickly for me, But I would like to make this work. Plenty of arranged marriages do.” I wonder what he would consider making it “work”.  Would he be a husband who wanted my happiness, or my silence?

“And plenty don’t.” I told him, testing the waters. Many kings dislike Queens who disagree with them, who speak their mind. “Two random people forced to spend the rest of their lives together. You don’t even know who I am, or what I like. Who I love.”

At this he scoffed. “Love is irrelevant to people like us. We, who are so privileged in so many ways, but that.”

I was stunned. I am still stunned. To hear him say such a thing so openly, so blatantly. To not even entertain the thought of loving me. He is right, however. Perhaps it is foolish of me to have ever hoped otherwise. A childish dream I should have put away long ago. 

But I realize now why it was so easy for him to say. He will be a King one day, and Kings may have as many mistresses as they like, as openly as they like. He could find love, and openly love her as much as he wanted, sire as many children as he likes with her, and not a soul can so much as bat an eye, for he is their Sovereign King. But I…I cannot. To be caught with a lover…would be to cause the line of succession, any heir I bore him, or anyone, to be questioned. My reputation would be ruined.

And so for him to scoff, to laugh at the idea of becoming a man I could love, a husband I could want to lie with and be the mother of his children…

“Why…are you crying?” I had not realized I had begun to weep until I heard him. I could not stay and eat the meal prepared by Seibold, who had just begun to walk up the path to meet us. I fled passed him, nearly running into the garden boy as I passed. I believe it was my imagination, my vision blurred by tears, but I swear…his face…he looked as heartbroken as I felt.

♔❁❦❁♔

March 5, 1544
The Courtyard, Wyndon Palace

Sonia insists I’m being childish and dramatic, but I refuse to speak to Prince Calem again, at least for now, and as far as I know he has yet to attempt to speak to me anyhow. I have taken refuge in the garden with Lady Marnie. She has been so understanding, and insisted I reclaim my tree, so today we are making embroidery patterns of the nearby blooms to pass the time. I do wish I knew what many of these flowers are called, then I could list for you the ones we made. I think I may ask the garden boy, as I’ve noticed him hanging around nearby. I will admit, I do feel better knowing someone is nearby.

♔❁❦❁♔

March 7, 1544
Sonia is right. If Mother and Father decide I am to marry Prince Calem, then I must. Sulking and refusing to even look at him will do me no good. After breakfast I will go see him in his chambers and…attempt to speak with him.

〜

Never you mind! Prince Calem can take a long walk off a short pier!

I went to see him, dressed in one of my nicer gowns, but when I arrived at his door, I heard him…

"Seriously, Shauna? Did you forget already?” he nearly shouted it, clear as day even through the thick stone walls. I haven’t a clue what he was so angry about, but the tiny maid that groveled at his feet and fled from the room in tears was enough for me. Anyone who would speak to a servant like that is no one I wish to associate with!

I think I will instead go horseback riding with Lady Marnie. I could use the fresh air and time away from the castle, and I’m sure Josephine could use the exercise.

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March 10, 1544

Truly there is never a dull day in Galarian Court. Lady Marnie shares with me the secrets she’s heard over dinner in my room, as I refuse to step foot in the throne room unless otherwise summoned. Lord Gordie has been sent here once again by his Mother, to find a proper bride no doubt. She seems to have her eye on Lady Nessa, but he seems entirely uninterested, according to Marnie.

It is all very interesting, but what worries me is the things she tells me of Prince Calem. Just yesterday she overheard him as he played a game of chess with the old Duke Kabu.

I believe she said his exact words were "Battling with you is fun, but losing all the time doesn't really make me look all that good.”

The more I hear of him, the more my heart sinks when I think about having to marry this man…to spend my every day with him, to lie beside him and bare him children…such thoughts make my blood run cold. I do not wish to marry such a man. I can only hope Lord Chancellor Rose and Lady Drasna are unable to come to an agreement with Father on the contract of our marriage.

Tomorrow I think I will finish my embroidery in the garden.

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March 12, 1544

I woke up with a horrible headache. I think the stress of my impending marriage to Prince Calem has begun to take a toll on me, so I spent my day in the garden again. The garden boy was there this time, pruning the hydrangea bushes nearby. I hummed softly to myself as I worked on my embroidery, and finished it late into the afternoon. It is beautiful, if I do say so myself. I focused on a particular branch of my beloved Camellia tree, one a beautiful little bird landed on. I managed to capture it in my work before it flew away. I wish I could preserve how lovely it was here, but I no longer have it, as I gave it to the gardener.

He seemed to be working unusually slowly, taking his time pruning the azalea bushes, and when I finished, I decided to ask his opinion. I called out to him, and he responded instantly, dropping his tool where he stood and kneeling before me with a low bow.

“Yes, your grace?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What do you think?” I asked him, proudly holding out my work. His eyes became soft as he admired it, his fingers reaching out as if to stroke it.

“It is simply stunning, your grace. Your talent knows no bounds.” he bowed low as he spoke. I felt my face flush at his kind words. The workers here often compliment us so assuredly, but he spoke with such earnestness that I knew his words were true, and not simply those of a servant attempting to flatter a princess.

“Thank you,” I told him, my own voice matching his softness. “but the real beauty is in the flowers. I cannot capture what isn’t there, after all.”

He looked taken aback for a moment, his eyes wide as they rose to meet mine. “I…am honored you find such beauty in my work.” he said finally, a hand over his chest as he bowed once more, his platinum curls bouncing around his face.

“Do you…know the name of this flower?” he asked hesitantly, looking over my work again.

“Camellia, I believe.” a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was such a lovely smile, one that filled his deep violet eyes. It reminds me of the cherubs that adorn the many paintings in Mother’s library.

“These Camellia in particular,” he started, standing up to his full height and plucking one of the soft blossoms from a high branch. “are known as Pink Perfection. A most fitting name, don’t you think?”

He held the flower out between us, and I marveled at how lovely the bloom is up close. “It is a wonderful name, and a most lovely flower. One of my favorites.” I told him.

He hummed in agreement, twirling the flower in his fingers for a moment, seeming deep in thought, before he hesitantly placed the flower behind my ear. “Only the most beautiful flowers for our most beautiful Princess.” he whispered so quietly I barely caught his words. I felt so suddenly shy, though I am not certain why. He is not the first to call me beautiful, and I am sure he won’t be the last. But…there was something in his voice that made my heart skip a beat.

It was in that moment I decided. I lifted my hoop, framed and finished, and held it out to him. “Here, for you!” I told him, my own voice unsteady. He seemed stunned beyond words.

“Your grace?…A-are you sure?” he said, his voice now uncharacteristically and adorably high.

“I am!” I told him, grabbing his hands and placing the needlework into them. “Consider it a thank you for all your hard work here in our garden!”
Sonia called out to me before he could reply. I must have lost track of time, as I was late for my studies. I bid him goodbye and ran off to meet her before she became too angry with me.

I do hope I see him again soon.

♔❁❦❁♔

Chapter Text

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March 14,1544
Wyndon Palace

My birthday approaches, as does The Vernal Equinox, and preparations have begun. The castle is alive with bustling servants and excited nobles. The birth of a royal alone is practically a holiday, and mine is no different. Even the garden boy has been kept busy by my mother the Queen, who, as always, has taken it upon herself to oversee all the preparations. The excitement however, has allowed me to make an appearance at Court without having to speak to Prince Calem. It was almost a dance, how I avoided him, allowing myself to be pulled by various servants to answer questions, or excited Ladies eager for the festivities. Lady Nessa and Lady Bea were so eager to see me, and I to see them. It has been far too long, so I invited them to the garden with Lady Marnie to have lunch and catch up.

I wish I could say things are well, but it seems all of us have found hardships. Nessa has been sent by her father the Earl of Hulbury to find a proper husband, one with a good title for her to pass onto her children, but it seems a young farm boy has caught her eye. Milo, I think she said his name was, from a town not far from her home. He visits often, trading his crops for fish in the market, offering his services chopping firewood for favors. She watches him work when she can, her eyes sparkles as she described him to us, all muscle, firm and toned from a lifetime of work, but he has the kindest eyes she’s ever seen, and more polite and respectful than any man to ever step foot in Galarian Court. I believe her.

Marnie as well seems to have her eye on someone, but she refused to say who, just that he is kind and always makes her laugh or smile when she sees him. A sweet boy who works somewhere in the castle. The blush that tinted her cheeks as she spoke of him warms my heart. Marnie has been so lonely since she had to leave her only brother Piers, to be by my side at Court. She was sent here to marry well, for their sake. The only way to rise in the world is through land and title, and the only way for her to get that, is through marriage. Sir Piers only wants the best for her, and as a Baron, Piers can only give her so much. But this boy she longs for has no proper station or title, no land of his own to give her, only love, and only maybe. But for Marnie, that seems to be enough. Life here is enough, and though I assured her that I would keep her with me for as long as she liked, she worries that that won’t be enough for Piers.

And Bea, oh Bea. She is so strong, but as a Marchioness, she must be the epitome of grace and beauty, she too must find a husband and bare him children, but she doesn’t want that at all. All she has ever wanted was to become a knight in the royal guard, a protector, a fighter who can defend herself and those she cares about. She has been taking secret lessons in the night, one of our own knights teaching her to wield a sword, a bow, showing her how to keep herself safe. But she worries of being caught. For a woman to fight as she does, especially as a Marchioness is simply unheard of. She fears she may be found out, what her family might say if they do. Her reputation would be ruined.

And of course, I, with my arranged marriage ever looming overhead.  A fact which continues to reassert itself in the forefront of my thoughts. Mother insists on letting Siebold lead the menu for The Vernal Equinox, and if all goes well, for my birthday as well. I do not wish to eat their food, especially so on such a day as these, but even so, that does not stop Mother from sending him to us repeatedly with new things to try. I refuse to taste them. I do not care how good they are, how Bea melted where she sat as she lost herself in his tarts. I do not want them.

I only hope I can convince Mother out of this.

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March 16, 1544

Oh, what a day today has been.

I took to the garden again, an attempt to get away from the excitement of the castle for a little while. I thought I might enjoy my lunch in peace, away from all the constant questions and prying eyes, and as I walked passed our many rose bushes, basket in hand, there I found him, that sweet garden boy I so often watch from my balcony. He seemed to be resting, a basket full of tools and flowers nestled in his lap. The moment I approached his head popped up, and the most adorable look of surprise graced his features. He made to stand, to apologize for slacking I’m sure, but I quickly hushed him and made myself comfortable beside him.

“You must be exhausted, working so tirelessly for the holidays.” I told him as I laid out a small blanket between us and began unpacking my, now our, lunch.

He seemed stunned by my actions, simply watching me with those lovely eyes of his, so very violet, and now oh so adorably wide.

“Ah..it..it will be well worth it, in the end, Your Grace.” he said, so very quietly.

“I’m sure it will be.” I answered as I spread some jab onto a piece of bread. He made no move to eat, barely even twitched where he sat, and I realized I would need to encourage him more directly. “Here, eat.” I began, taking his hand and placing the bread into his open fingers. “To regain your strength.”

The flush that stained his cheeks was simply precious, such a stark contrast against his pale skin. “Ah, t-thank you, Your Grace..” he whispered. I hummed my approval and set to make another for myself.

“I watch you sometimes from my balcony you know.” I began as I dunked the knife back into the bottle. The boy choked on his bite and I had to stifle a giggle. His eyes were so very wide, and his cheeks rivaled the roses! Oh, how I wish I could show you. It truly was a sight to behold.

But I didn’t let it stop me. But there was something I wished to know, and now was as good a time as any to ask. “I realize now however, that I don’t even know your name! I would love to have something to call you, besides my garden boy” I said with a sly grin. I’ve decided that teasing him has become a new favorite pastime of mine, for it is so easy. His flush had begun to turn even his ears a deep pink as I spoke, and he was barely able to stutter out “Bede, Your Grace.”

“Bede..” I repeated as I sipped on my wine, savoring the way the word felt on my tongue. Soft, yet noble. “Named after a saint. What a fitting name for someone of your talent and skill.” I mused with another sip.

“You..are too kind to me, Princess.” His voice was so soft as he bowed his head.

We ate in silence for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s company. The jam was sweet and tart, and lingered on my tongue. Bede ate slowly, seeming to savor each bite.

“Bede,” I gently called out to him. His head snapped to attention, eyes locking onto mine. “Tell me, how did you come to work at Court?”

His eyes softened as he looked down at his own silver goblet. “Ah. I was brought here by Lord Chancellor Rose.” He began, his tone soft and wistful. “My…my family was lost to the plague. I was selling the last of our crop in town for just enough to afford one more meal and bed when he found me.” His voice was low and mournful as he spoke, his thumb caressing the filigree of his cup. “He was impressed by the quality of our roses, and so he brought me here. I…I would have starved, if not for him.”

My heart ached as I listened to his story. I cannot imagine how much he has suffered, how much he lost. My eyes drifted shut as I pressed my hand over my heart. “It seems I will have much to thank him for when I see him next. I cannot i-” my words were cut short from a sharp pain in my finger, from where I’d attempted to lean, my gasp of pain making both of us jump. 

A drop of blood began to run down my finger, dripping from where the thorn of a rose that sat between us had pricked me, and dropped onto its petals.

I believe, without thinking, Bede took my hand in his and pressed my finger to his lips. His tongue was so soft and warm as it languidly passed over the cut. My heart thumped in my chest, and this time it was my cheeks that flushed. His touch was so gentle, so soft. Shockingly soft, really, for someone who works with his hands. I didn’t have much time to linger on such thoughts however, as soon he’d pulled my finger from his lips and was gently but eagerly coaxing me to stand, one hand on my wrist and the other under my elbow, pulling me to my feet.

“Quickly Your Grace, let me take you to the infirmary, please.” His words barely registered, but I stood nonetheless as he lead me away from our meal, his hand gently pressed onto my lower back as he lead me inside the castle.

Bede stayed and held my hand as my physician cleaned and wrapped the wound. The alcohol stung as he applied it, but Bede insisted I focus on him, telling me to squeeze his hand as hard as I needed to, to distract from the pain. But I didn’t need to. His eyes were enough. So bright and determined, and so very violet. He caressed my knuckles with his thumb, his touch so gentle and soothing it made my breath hitch.

Sonia found us soon however, angered that I was late for my studies. Bede let go of my hand and bowed low to us, mumbling something about bringing my lunch back so I could finish it.

“Keep it, you need it far more than I.” I told him as Sonia lead me from the room.

His expression was soft, but tinged with regret, before he finally spoke.

“As you wish, Princess.”

♔❁❦❁♔

March 18, 1544

I cannot stop thinking about what happened in the garden. It’s begun to affect my sleep. Yesterday I was kept in my courters, lesson after lesson keeping me locked up and far too busy. Sonia reprimanded me for being so distracted, but I couldn’t help it. His touch lingers in my mind and refuses to release its hold.

His touch was so gentle, so kind, and yet earnest. It was not just the gentle touch of an attendant serving his princess, there was something far more there. The worry in his tone, the fear in his eyes. I wonder if that’s how it started. The cut of a rose that invited the plague, decimating all that he knew and loved.

I watched him again from my balcony. I was enjoying my breakfast, a warm and bubbling stew, when he passed. I watched as he settled his basket on the ground behind him and set to work, lifting the wide brim of his hat and wiping a gloved hand at the sweat on his brow. Only, for the first time, he looked up at me. I swear I could see the flush on his cheeks from right here on my balcony as I waved at him! Oh how I wish I could have gone to see it up close, but time waits for no one, and lessons must be done, as Sonia says.

Today, I think I will ease my mind with a nice long ride around the courtyard. I’m sure Josephine will enjoy the fresh air as well.

〜

I am…exhausted.

I invited Marnie, Nessa, and Bea to join me for my ride, all of us eager to get away from the castle for a while. We sent for our horses and waited near the entrance. The girls were eager and giggling, teasing one another over something I payed little attention to. For you see, the sweet garden boy who’d been at the center of my thoughts rounded the corner, a wheelbarrow creaking across the cobblestone as he neared us, his signature magenta gloves hanging limply over the edge.

His deep violet eyes seemed to light up the moment they landed on us. Releasing his burden he turned to us and bowed low, his hand over his heart.

“Your Grace,” he began, but was swiftly cut off as Prince Calem and a few of his own servants in toe came from behind us.

Instantly my mood soured, but I did my best to hide it.

Calem turned to Bede and frowned. “Leave us.” he practically barked, as if he has any right to dismiss my servants! I was so angered I had not noticed my hand had risen, until it was gently grasped in Bede’s own hand. My heart jumped at the contact, but even more-so as his lips ghosted across my fingers, just above one of my rings. His touch lingered, even as he slowly released me, bowing low before he retreated back to his tools and behind the stables.

Calem’s glare followed him as he left, and I swear I heard him whisper “How dare you, you reek like a chamberpot…” under his breath.

But before I could speak of it, Calem had already begun. “As The Vernal Equinox is soon upon us, I thought I might gift you ladies with something to wear.” he snapped his fingers and his own servants came from behind him, the little girl I saw fleeing his room in tears among them. She and the others held out finely embroidered dresses and jewels to us.

Nessa seemed entirely enthralled with the gifts, and Marnie too to a lesser extent. Admittedly the jewels were lovely, but no glittering gem could make me forget what he’s done.

“Have them delivered to my chambers.” I said as Josephine was brought out to me. I quickly mounted her and bid them farewell.

Now the gifts rest with me, taunting me in the dark even now as I write.

I believe I may let Nessa keep the lot.

♔❁❦❁♔

March 21, 1544

The Vernal Equinox is upon us, marking the official beginning of spring. A day to celebrate rebirth and fertility with the great Feast of the Annunciation.

I’ve decided on one of my favorite dresses for today. A deep magenta with the most delicate embroidery across the bodice. The sleeves are short and the skirt flared, perfect for dancing.

As much as I do not want to speak to Calem again, or eat their “superior” Kalosian food, I refuse to let it sour my mood for the day’s festivities.

〜

Oh, today was everything I hoped it would be.

I danced and sang late into the evening, and the feast was truly wonderful. Dishes full of berries and nuts, herbs and even flowers! It always surprises me how delicious some flowers can be.

I saw Victor again for the first time in a while. I do not get to see him often, as he spends so much of his time in his own studies, or outside the castle. He seems well though. I overheard him speaking with the stable boy he spends so much of his time with.

“No need, all he wants to do is hunt, drink, and dance with the court ladies.” he said with a laugh, animatedly swinging his arms around like a drunken fool. “I’ve never seen a Sinnohnian with less grace. Or bigger feet! He tramped on Nessa’s feet so badly she actually limped back to her Chambers!”

The boys laughed a deep, hearty laugh. It is good to see Victor so happy. He is the heir to the throne, and he takes that responsibility so seriously. It is so rare for me to see him so light hearted and carefree.

By the end of the night, Victor, the stable boy—Hop, I’ve come to learn—Marnie, Bea, and Nessa, who’s feet are fine now, had all retired to one of the floating pergolas, illuminated only by the lovely lanterns strung between them.

We talked for hours, enjoying our wine and twirling flowers together to make flower crowns. Bede even joined us after much coaxing! He seemed jealous of Hop at first, but the crown I made for him seemed to smooth that right out, as did the wine. By the end of the night, he was as flushed as the rest of us, laughing and smiling without a care in the world.

Marnie was so tipsy Hop practically had to carry her back to her chambers! She didn’t seem to mind at all, quite the opposite in fact! I do wonder if this could be the boy she’s had her eye on.

As for myself, Bede offered to escort me back to my own room, holding out an arm for me. I gladly accepted, resting my hands on his forearm and leaning into his shoulder. I swear he stood straighter, head held higher as we walked passed Calem, his own glare going right through me as he watched us pass, surrounded by a giggling group of court ladies all vying for his attention.

“Thank you, Your Grace, for such a wonderful evening. Please, do sleep well.” he’d whispered to me when we finally reached my door, taking my hand in his and pressing another soft kiss to my knuckles, lingering just a little longer this time.

My heart is warm as I write, and not just from the wine. I will surely sleep well this night.

♔❁❦❁♔

March 24, 1544

Today has been a dark day. Soldiers returned to us, battered, bruised, carrying the wounded and dying. I spotted Leon entering Father’s chambers, a grim look on his face.

Marnie later told me why. Hop, who is actually Leon’s little brother! Heard from him that the strange red power has begun to emanate from the ground out in the wilds again, but far stronger and much more plentiful. Many giants were found, surrounded by this power, and attacked without mercy. Their sheer anger, violence and numbers entirely unprecedented.

Prince Calem overheard us, having seen the soldiers for himself and searching for answers just as we were. It is not an entirely unknown phenomena to us in Galar, but it seems it is entirely unheard of in other regions. We had to explain it to him, in detail. He seemed horrified by it, and quickly left. I could swear I heard him call us uncivilized as he demanded a maid find Lady Dransa for him to speak with immediately.

He wishes to return to Kalos post haste, feeling it unsafe here with us.

I wish him a safe and speedy trip.

♔❁❦❁♔

March 26, 1544
The Courtyard, Wyndon Palace

Calem will not be leaving us any time soon, it seems. His guard deemed it unsafe to travel, so he will be with us for quite some time. For once, I share in his frustration.

I decided to relax in the garden, bringing a book, this diary, and my embroidery hoop with me. I didn’t expect to find Bede napping again near my tree. He looks so peaceful while he sleeps, like an angel.

Thankfully I didn’t wake him this time as I sat down, nor has he stirred as I write.

I think I’ll embroider his roses this time.

♔❁❦❁♔

March 28, 1544
Wyndon Palace

The day of my birth is finally upon us, and I would be excited, except late in the night, long after I had prepared for bed and my servants had left me, I heard a noise behind a partition near the back of my room. It almost sounded like a door, but there is no door there. I cautiously approached it, and a shadow of a hand appeared, illuminated only barely by the candlelight.

And then I heard it, a voice, barely but a whisper.

“Taste of love and laughter, but do not drink the wine.”

I could barely hear it, barely comprehend it. “W-what?” I asked, my heart beginning to pound in my ears.

“Taste of love and laughter, but do not drink the wine.” the shadow whispered again, more urgently this time.

I stared at the hand pressed onto the thin screen, my mind reeling. It felt like my heart was going to burst through my chest.

“Who..who are you?” I asked. Hesitantly, I placed my own hand over the shadow. it was larger than mine, and warm.

The shadow seemed to hesitate, flinching slightly at my touch.

“Your loyal watchman.” it spoke in a breathy whisper before the hand suddenly vanished, replaced by the creak of something closing.

I raced around the partition, but there was nothing there. No door, no seams in the wall that I could find. Nothing, but cold, empty space.

“…Thank you…” I whispered, just as breathlessly.

I would fear it a ghost, but the warmth I felt could only belong to someone still of flesh and blood.

My loyal watchman….Just who are you?

〜

Oh diary, so much has happened this night.

First, have I expressed just how much I adore my friends? For without them, today would not have been as wonderful as it was, for as long as it was.

When I first entered the ballroom, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Bede has truly outdone himself this year. I had noticed the Garden beginning to look a bit sparse, and now I see why. The entire room was overflowing with those beautiful blooms he’s been taking care of for so long.

Long garlands were draped across the balconies, towers and topiaries in the corners, wreaths adorning the walls and the most beautiful bouquets decorating every table. Even the cake is covered in flowers! Morning Glories, my namesake flower, declared a royal flower on the day of my birth.

Cake was served and songs were sung. A servant I did not recognize brought me a delicate goblet of wine for my cake, and remembering my watchman’s warning, I pretended to sip. I left the goblet on the table and instead pulled my dear friends to me.

“Marnie, I want to dance!” I called out to her. “Nessa! Bea! Come on, take off your shoes! Dance with me!”

It didn’t take too much prodding for them to follow me out into the middle of the ballroom, giggling all the way. We danced in circles, our hands entwined, giggling and jumping like children.

They danced circles around me, keeping me safe from any attempt by Calem or anyone else to dance with me. It means the world to me to have them so close.

Suddenly, while I twirled and laughed without a care in the world, petals began to fall around me, landing in my hair and caressing my cheek as they descended to the floor. I looked up, and who else would I spy but my sweet garden boy, standing up on the balcony, holding a large basket in one hand and tossing his rose petals out into the air above me.

His smile warmed my soul. The look in his eye, dare I call it love? I know the gaze I returned to him certainly did. I swear, time seemed to slow as I gazed at him, dropping his rose petals as we twirled and sang.

I wish such a moment could last forever, but time waits for no one.

It was a loud, wet, sputtering coughing caught everyone’s attention, halting even the music in its tracks.

It was old Colonel Mustard, holding an empty candlestick in one hand, and none other than my goblet of wine in the other.

He coughed again, swinging the candlestick wildly. He dropped the goblet, its clang against the hard stone floor ringing out into the suddenly quiet space. Wine splattered across the floor, staining everything in its path.

Suddenly arms were around me, holding me protectively close. It was Marnie, and Bede, down from the balcony and holding me so close.

Someone screamed and I looked back at Mustard. Blood had began to pour from his mouth and ears. More screams filled the room, some terrified, some angry. His body fell limp to the floor, the candlestick rolling from his lifeless fingers across the floor.

Marnie’s hands gripped me tightly, studying my face for any signs of the poison. Everything else seemed dull in my ears as my pounding heart overwhelmed me. I could barely make out our guards attempting to calm the crowd as everyone began to panic.

“I didn’t drink the wine!” I cried out, tears in my eyes. “I didn’t drink it! I swear!”

I looked up at Bede, repeating myself again and again. I expected to see the same fear I saw in Marnie’s eyes, in Nessa’s and Bea’s. Instead, I saw only relief. Pure, overwhelming relief.

I buried my face in his shoulder, weeping uncontrollably. His hand buried itself in my hair as he held me so tightly, like a lifeline, like the only thing keeping us grounded to this earth.

♔❁❦❁♔

Chapter Text

♔❁❦❁♔

April 3, 1544
Wyndon Palace

It has been a while.

So much has happened, and yet, so little. First, there was chaos. Screaming. So much screaming. Panicked voices all on top of each other, impossible to understand. It happened so fast I can hardly remember it.

There is one thing I will never forget, however. Bede’s voice in my ear, as his hand cradled the back of my head.

“Thank the heavens…thank the heavens…it wasn’t you…”

No one has ever held me so tightly, with such desperation. But it wasn’t long before we were pulled apart, my guards ushering me away to my quarters.

I have not left this room for days. My heart pounds whenever they bring food to me. I can barely bring myself to eat any of it. Mother and Father are distraught. I have been told he refuses to leave his war room, pacing incessantly as he rambles about theories as to who it might be that made an attempt on my life. Lord Chancellor Rose is apparently particularly furious as well. And Mother comes to me, barely containing her tears, and attempts to eat with me. Even with her close, I still find it hard to take even a single bite..

Every slice of bread, every chunk of potato, it festers in my mind, full of poison and rot. Who knows which bite just might be my last. Could it be this one, or the next..

Marnie still comes to visit me. She even shared my bed on the first night, not wanting ether of us to be alone. I am so grateful for her company, as I find myself hardly able to sleep. I keep seeing him, the wine clattering to the ground…the blood. There was so much blood…

I am thankful to not be alone at least. Lady Nessa and Bea were quickly summoned home, their families beside themselves with fright. I cannot blame them. Poison is such a…terrifying killer. It is not one you can fight with a sword, nor outwit on a war map.

And it..does things to the body. The undertakers have been doing their best to preserve old Colonel Mustard, so his wife and son can arrive to see him, but I fear they may not make it.

My garden boy, Bede, has come to visit every single day since, arms full of flowers. He tells me the garden misses my smile. I..admit I couldn’t help myself. I teased him, asking him if it wasn’t he who missed my smile. The way his cheeks darkened an adorable shade of pink pulled the first real smile out of me in days.

♔❁❦❁♔

April 5th, 1544

Baron Piers arrived at Court today. He was quite disheveled and beside himself with worry. He’d traveled straight here from Ballonlea the moment he heard the news, only stopping when his mount was too exhausted to continue.

He has decided to stay, refusing to leave Marnie’s side so as to ensure her safety. Well, as much as one can, when forces unseen conspire against you.

He is a welcome face at Court in my eyes. He has many tales from his travels, and I hear he is quite the musician. I do hope he will play for us soon.

♔❁❦❁♔

April 6th, 1544
I continue to struggle with the thought of leaving my room. I find myself simply staring out from my bed, my mind wandering endlessly. Who is this Loyal Watchman who came to me in the night? Who could know the wine was poisoned, but want me warned of it? And to vanish so quickly, like a ghost in the night…

My eyes drifted to the flowers Bede had brought me the day before. A lovely Bouquet of delicate blooms left to bring a little piece of my beloved garden to me. The memory warms my heart.

A hesitant knock on my door pulled me from my memories. My sweet garden boy had returned, but this time with a strange pot.

“If I may, Your Grace…” he began, closing the door behind him. “I am told you are still finding food..unpleasant.”
It took some effort for me to sit up, my nightgown slipping off my shoulder, just enough to reveal my collar bone. Bede averted his gaze as he approached, holding out the small bowl to me.

“I handpicked the ingredients and prepared them myself, they never left my sight, I swear it. I am no chef, but…I do hope you find them acceptable..”

His cheeks were tinged a light pink as he spoke, eyes firmly fixed on the floor. I took the bowl with one hand and righted my gown with the other. The dark wood of the bowl was warm, and inside were two perfectly sliced aspear berries, baked and coated in a dusting of cinnamon and sugar.

To tell you the truth, they looked divine, and smelled just as heavenly. I told him as much as the steam rose from their softened flesh and warmed my cheeks. They separated cleanly as I prodded one with the fork, and the taste, oh it was so sweet, and a little bit sour. It seemed to melt in my mouth and I hummed my satisfaction.

He bowed low, his hand over his heart and eyes cast to the floor, but his smile could never be hidden from me.

“….Sit with me?” I asked as his eyes met mine. “Tell me about the flowers.”

He glanced at the bouquet on the table, still gleaming from his last visit. His expression softened as he retrieved the vase from the table and sat opposite me.

“Well…these,” he began, pointing to the lovely little iridescent blooms that shimmered between the most lovely shades of purple and blue. “are Blue Shift Sweet Peas. A most lovely color, aren’t they?”

I nodded as I marveled at the way the colors flowed and changed in the light, so enthralled with their iridescence that I hardly noticed how easily I devoured the berries. I worry now I must have looked terribly brazen, but you would never know it from the way he smiled.

“and these,” he continued, pointing now to the larger pink, white and purple flowers that surrounded the outer rim of the bouquet, “are Freesias.”

“Surely such lovely flowers must have an equally beautiful meaning, yes?” My question must have caught him off guard. His back straightened and a soft flush returned to his cheeks.

“A-ah, yes, Your Grace…These in parti-” he was cut off by a loud knock on my door. He bolted from my bed as if he’d been shocked as the door creaked open and a familiar voice filtered through.

“Gloria? May I speak with you?” it was Prince Calem’s voice. His unusual politeness struck me.

I sighed, frustrated at his most terrible timing. But curiosity got the better of me. I can always ask Bede their meaning again another day.

“You may.”

Bede bowed as Calem entered, as shallowly as he could get away with I noted! Before he slipped the emptied bowl from my hand and placed a feather light kiss to my ring.

Calem’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he watched Bede pass, but there was something different in them when they met mine. One might even call them soft.

He crossed my chamber to my bed, his eyes calmly exploring the room before they returned to me.

“How are you feeling?” he said suddenly. His words were calm, and held an unexpected concern. He’d never shown concern for my feelings before, quite the opposite in fact! I dared wonder if seeing how close I came to death moved something within him.

His look of concern grew when I didn’t answer right away. “Might I guess that this was your first assassination attempt?”

His question struck me. I have always known Galar to be a peaceful kingdom. I have heard tales of coups and murders of royals, even an attack on our castle when I was but an infant, but they were always so distant to me. Stories I heard in passing. I feared them yes,  but it had never…I never fully understood it until that day.

But his question…it struck me.

“…how many have you survived?” my voice was barely above a whisper as I spoke.

Calem was quiet a moment as he studied me, finally settling on the end of my bed.

“Six.”

The calmness of his voice made my blood run cold. How much death had he seen to be so calm?

“You forget, for a while. Especially as a child. It is all taken care of for you, until the wool is ripped from your eyes.” His words held a deep sadness, a regret left unvoiced.

But they rang true. We have our royal tasters, our guards, protectors working around the clock and behind the curtains, unseen and unnoticed. Some more than others…

“A cult murdered my sister.”

His voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“We call them Les Flairistes, lead by a man named Lysandre.” He stared blankly at the space in front of him as he spoke. His voice was even, but his eyes swirled with emotion.

“He’d lost his mind, preaching of a beautiful world he would create in their image. Wikstrom found their lair in a cave not far from the castle, but rather than be taken alive…they caused a cave in. There were no survivors, and no justice for dear Serena…”

I hadn’t the words to respond. How…does one even…I could barely form the thought before he spoke again, his eyes finally meeting mine again.

“You will recover from this, eventually. As the memory fades, and life moves on. Time…Time will not wait. Not for any of us. Eventually, they will be found, and dealt with. I…realize we have not exactly seen eye to eye, but…”

His hand reached out to mine, and I let him take it. His eyes bore into my soul and it sent shivers down my spine.

“Rest assured Princess, we will not allow another life to be lost at the hands of cowards.”

In that moment, as he squeezed my hand, I knew in my heart he spoke the truth.

The sun has long set, but my mind continually returns to his words; his eyes. The gentleness with which he held me.

If this is the real Calem, beneath his aloof and callous demeanor, I wonder how truly unbearable a marriage to him would really be. Would he really be so cruel, as he was when he first arrived?Could this pain he has suffered be why he seems to refuse to even entertain the thought of ever loving me?

Or is there something beneath this wall I could come to love, and that might love me?

♔❁❦❁♔