Gilded Age

As soon as I had received the letter announcing my mother’s arrival, I knew that it would come to this.

Even now as she faces me from her plush seat behind the mahogany desk, royal blue eyes glimmering in the setting sun. I stand before her, not worthy of sitting on equal terms with her as she chastises me; no matter how much I try and reason with her. She would not come for any other reason but to reprimand me and bring topics astir that I wish could be put to rest.

In the dimming candlelight, Estienne Johansson finally sets her jaw, “Your Council and I concur on this matter. You will have an uprising within the next six months from the commoners,” she finally concludes, rising from her seat. She runs her bejewelled fingers across the desk. “Even your husband knows that there is an unsettling notion in his kingdom that began since the outset of your reign. And so, as your mother, I will be the one to give you these six months to prove that you can support this kingdom.”

Obviously my husband will not be blamed, since he and all males have dominance over females. I was courted at sixteen, married at eighteen, and then allowed onto the throne with my husband, King Dalon Traiton, at twenty one. The next five years have now been nothing but an endless torrent of counsel, duties, and hopelessness as more and more of my citizens turn against the monarchy.

I swallow thickly, “And… if I fail?”

“Then you, Queen Reinne Adelaide VII, as decreed by your Council, will be set up for trial. However long it lasts, I do not know, although I do know that it should never have come to this.” She turns on me, blue eyes almost glowing. “Their judgement will decide whether you are still fit to sit on the throne beside your husband or not. During that time, I shall assess myself whether you shall return to our family or not after this judgement.”

So this is how it is.

I stare down at my bejewelled bodice, pearls and gemstones glittering in the candlelight. The light blue dress that I once thought hugged my figure and flowing skirts gave me elegance now feel almost as much of a burden as the crown on my head. I wring my hands and shift my weight, unsure of what to do.

Clasping my hands, I try and reason with her, “Mother—”

“Do not act like a fool, daughter. There shall be no other word on the matter from you,” she condones sharply, raising her chin. She turns back towards the large bay window, dark hair threaded with silver. “You are unpopular with your subjects and have disgraced your family. For this, you must set this chaos in order by yourself. I raised you to be stronger than any of this. If you cannot handle it, then you are not what I raised you to be.”

I lower my eyes, white hot disappointment rushing through my veins. I clasp my gloved hands and force myself to speak again, “Your Radiance, I simply—”

“I do believe that you have company to prepare for,” she steps in, refusing to glance over her shoulder. “This discussion is over.”

I can feel the heat forming behind my eyes as I firmly say, “Yes, Your Radiance.”

Holding my breath, I hold up my skirts as I pivot around to which the guards open the duel oak doors and allow me to leave. Halting in the doorway, I cast my gaze back towards the Sovereign Mother’s back and try to say something. And yet, I fall back into a cowardly nature and flee before I make any more regrets.

The doors slam shut behind me, although I refuse to sag against them, my mind haywire with cruel thoughts and bitter shame. As the guards return to their posts, a sudden sensation of flight courses through me, and I can’t stop it from taking over my body.

“Y-Your Grace!” one of them cry. “Your Grace, please wait!”

I don't listen.

My dress scatters around my legs as I start down the corridor, startling the guards as I go. Maids and ladies-in-waiting leap away as I run, crying out in alarm at my speed. With my thoughts so loose, my body goes where it wants, descending stairways and corridors with so much speed that my conscience fades.

However one thought does ring true, The Queen of despair. The Queen of shame. The Queen who must say her prayers.

Descending the nearest tower stairway, I run straight for the open doorway, only to collide with someone else at the last second. We both gasp in shock and clutch onto each other as we stagger away. Once I start to snap back to attention, I notice the pair of startled grey eyes staring into mine, dark hair neatly tied back

“Y-Your Grace,” a maid pants, detaching herself from my arms. She then notices my expression and grows concerned. “Your Grace, w-what’s wrong?”

I open my mouth to reply, however I realise that I can do nothing else but shake my head and propel my body away on instinct, ignoring her when she shouts for me as I continue onward towards the door.

I shove the slightly ajar doors open and break out into the starless night, heat from the afternoon lingering far into the evening. The gardens billow out around me, chess like statues that line the pathway illuminated by dangling lanterns, sculpted shrubbery casting long shadows across the gravel and grass. I pull up my skirts further as the path joins up into the main promenade, breathing ragged as I carry onward to safety.

I almost leap down the steps ahead, two ponds on either side of me almost glowing from the reflection of the golden sky dotted with purple clouds, my shadow distorted on the water’s surface. Wildlife is startled by my sudden disturbance and flee as fast as they can, leaving me feeling the same inside and out; alone. My many jewels bouncing off of my skin like chains dragging me down to the ground, determined to bring me down like I have my people.

Directly ahead is two long stairways that curve around a gigantic fountain made of several layers. The lowest is the humans, layers continuing up in rank until the highest point where the old Gods stand tall, hands held towards the heavens and faces masked to reflect our numerous perceptions of them.

Before I reach the steps, I take a fraction of a second to glance over my shoulder. My mother watches me through the highest window, dark green orbs scalding my back with sheer anger and displeasure even from this distance. My breath hitches at the sight and, through my haze of emotion, I take the longer set of stairs far too quickly and lose my footing part way down, tumbling down the stone steps and crashing into a stop at the bottom.

I lay there for a long time, rendered dazed and panicked from the fall but also lifeless from how fast everything has occurred. My thought fades away, and I find myself merely staring at the sky as the sun almost completes its descent over the horizon. The image of my mother burns into my mind, and her cruel words ring too much truth to bear.

However, as my faith in myself and the word begins to fail, I am given my moment of salvation.

“M-Miss?” I snap my gaze to the source of the voice, still slightly hazy. A figure sits on the lip of the large fountain that centralises the gardens, watching me as I make a fool of myself. As I push myself upright, the figure rises to their feet, leaving the horse to graze a few feet away and makes their way over to me; holding out their hand. “That was a rather nasty fall that you took, Miss. May I?”

Alabaster moonlight shines down in such a way that his, I assume, dark hair is illuminated, but his face is shrouded in shadow and hides his face. I stare up in awe, the sight almost like a spiritual experience, as if he is a guardian angel. And even though I am more shocked at the fact that he has waited for my permission for him to touch me, his presence alone only fuels my intrigue. I study him for a while before allowing him to help me back onto my feet.

Dusting off my garments, I force myself to act as I should. Clasping my hands together, I raise my chin and settle my tone before speaking up, “I thank you, good sir, but please address me with my title. I am no “Miss,” and have not been for many years.”

“Y-Your Grace,” he whispers, the moon’s light revealing me though still not him. Then his eyes widen, and he falls down onto his knees, “Forgive my rudeness, Your Grace. Please accept my apologies.”

“You will be forgiven if you give me your name,” I bargain; I can’t help but smile a little. “No common man would bring their animal onto private land like this without asking for a branding.” He is silent for a moment, then glances back towards the horse with a rather rueful smile.

“I've been working on the grounds for two months as an apprentice stable hand,” he explains to me. “However I have recently taken care of the stables as a full time job. My name is Ori, Your Grace.”

I nod half in interest, half in guilt. “I am sorry for not recognising you at first sight, good sir. My husband deals with the Palace jobs, and so I only know those who I constantly see.” I then cast my eyes down to the ground, a thought reaching me suddenly and causing me to smile. “Though I believe I have heard remarks about you; the man with a kind heart and small voice.”

His cheeks redden, although he says nothing.

I take a seat on the lip of the fountain, and he doesn't follow until I allow him to do so. He cautiously joins me, taking time to stay within his bounds. A pregnant silence ensues, but it isn’t tense. In fact, after everything that happened with my mother, his presence leaves me at ease. I stare into the cloak of night above, light summer breeze brushing against my face as I run my fingers across the few torn pieces of thread and material from my fall, hissing when I shift my ankle suddenly.

Noticing this, Ori casts his gaze towards me. I force a smile, “I am in little pain, good sir. It may be sprained, nothing more.”

I watch him for a long time, even if his face is masked by his dark hair. After being herded into this duty ever since I was able to understand what the word “Queen” meant in its simplest form, I entered a violent world of nobles, duties, and sacrifice. I do not regret becoming Queen—I wouldn’t trade it for anything—however sometimes I long for what anyone does; comfort, freedom, and kindness. I find these things rarely and separately, however now I feel like I have them all together.

“May I speak freely, Your Grace?” he inquires suddenly, shrinking back a little. I glance back down, noting his apprehensive complexion, and silently agree. He swallows, then, “You seemed rather upset before you fell, as if you were running from something. O-Of course it isn’t my place to ask, but if you need an escort back to the Palace then I'd be happy to help.”

I stare at him. “Pardon?”

He clears his throat, face paling a little, “W-What I meant is that...”

I break out into a shrill laugh without meaning to, his face paling even more as he avoids me eyes. “I understand your intention. For me, I rarely find a person in my Palace who speaks in such a way towards others.” Hesitantly, the man raises his head and barely meets my gaze, as if it is improper to do otherwise. “It is a notable trait.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

I simply nod, then add, “And in terms of my emotions leading up to the fall, I agree that they are none of your business. You shall do well to remember that.” And yet, something tugs at my heart when I glance in his direction. I twist my body towards him, the idea hitting me so suddenly that I don’t realise how I have spoken until I say, “You intrigue me, sir. If I may be so bold, I wish to learn more about you before I return to the Palace, if you are willing.”

At this, he finally meets my eyes, sharp cobalt orbs twinkling with curiosity as if he can’t quite believe his luck. I try and not react myself, knowing how outspoken I sound towards one of another class.

However, when I prompt him again, his eyes widen and he stammers, “I-I apologise. I would be honoured to assist Her Grace.”

Despite his values on distance, I take what I have and rise, permitting him to collect the mare and return to my side. He offers the horse to me, helping me up when I accept. Once admitting that he is often not allowed to roam these gardens, I insist that I show him even if he was simply making small talk. We make our way down the larger stairway, and I feel my mother’s eyes finally leave my back.

The gardens are three miles long with various groves branching off from the main pathway. I and my husband have our own separate groves, and people are only permitted to enter them with our permission, however others are more public and available at any time, leaving my personal grove as a safe haven for me.

I lead him into the closest grove, nodding to gardeners and other workers as we go. Their presence is a painful reminder of what I will have to face when I return to the Palace, although casting my eyes back to the nameless man eases some weariness. He waves to his workers, keeping quiet as I guide him away. Like my mother's, I can feel their eyes on us even after the hedges mask them from view.

Passing through a narrow threshold, we enter the small amphitheatre that has been slightly worn down with age, a tiny podium raised over the actual floor so singers or poets could perform their pieces surrounded by dancers. Some attendants are here also, however keep their distance as they finish preparing the seats and lighting the torches.

“So,” I begin. “Has your dream always been to work with animals?”

“I have always loved to work with animals, though I have dreamed of becoming a Knight,” he replies quietly, tugging at the reins lightly. I hum in interest; it is surprising to me that he volunteers himself when the people are against me. “But since it's peacetime and the Army is already large, I'll have to pay for acceptance.” There is a pause, then he chuckles, “I apologise. I'm complaining and I bear no hardships compared to you. These are merely the problems of commoners.”

I laugh at this, however I catch onto something that stuns me for a moment. “You are very humble compared to most.” His lips tug up into a small smile, and I wring my hands. We carry on in silence for a while, leaving the grove and continue through the maze of plants, trees hanging high over us. “Are you connected to any houses? Perhaps you could use any links to join the Army.”

He swallows thickly for a moment, then shakes his head, “I'm a half child.”

The man does not add anything else, and I understand why. Many of the nobles find love with those with commoners blood, however must keep their blood passed on purely. Therefore they may be with whom they please and then have a second child with another noble in order to pass on the bloodline. It isn’t uncommon, and this man is a prime example of a half child who is no longer seen as noble because of it.

I raise a brow, thinking further on what he has said. “I understand. So how did you end up working in the Palace ground?”

As we go, he plucks an apple blossom from the bush that it grows on, eyes glinting with some form of reminiscence. “I wished to be of service to you, Your Grace. Even if I am not a part of the family, their view was to always serve you.”

He slows down a little, and I realise that his expression has turned rueful. I regard him as he twists the blossom in his hand. We walk in silence, and I can’t help but think back on his words. His sheer honesty is rather startling; no one would normally subject themselves to reliving such pains, whether happy or not, and do so willingly.

I calmly clear my throat. “You have told me much for someone who finds pain in talking about their past.”

But he shakes his head. “Her Grace has given me a question. I must answer with truth despite what I remember.”

His answer, like so many tonight, renders me speechless.

In the far distance, the bells of the communal shrine to the Old Gods signal the sunset. As the chimes reflect around the gardens, we descend a small winding staircase dotted with moss and into a more familiar place. The pathway is even narrower now and forces us to stand behind one another, the trees draping so low that it blocks out the sky.

My dress brushes against the branches, the smell of honeysuckle and roses easing my nerves as the journey through the dark plants end at the sight of a trellis arch decorated with willow and wildflowers, lit lanterns dangling from the top too.

I smile and turn back to the man, who seems to know where he is too, as he stops short. “I apologise, Your Grace, but none can enter without permission.”

“It is my grove, sir,” I reply quickly, finally realising how careful he is with me. “And so you have my word; I allow who I choose to enter this area.” He avoids my eyes, although nods and follows my lead. Passing through the threshold of my grove, we slip through the canopy of willow branches and I finally feel at home.

Whilst the grove is full, every part of it has been perfectly designed. The man stands beside me at the top of the steps, staring on in amazement. Beneath us, wide arches frame the edge of the grove, pillars bathed in the dying sunlight. Within those arches stands a folly surrounded by water, vines and roses spiralling up the pillars and grasping onto the dome above it.

I can’t help but smile every time that I come here, and as I make my way down the steps I cast my attention to my guest. “If you choose to stay then I will not force you to leave, though its true beauty is found at the bottom.” As if awoken from a trance, he blinks and nods eagerly, his eyes trained on me as the sunlight dances in his eyes. I lose myself for a moment too, not sure of what is happening but not trying to stop it.

He takes a hesitant step forward, “Your Grace?”

I wave him off, twirling around and descending the steps, allowing my hands to glide over the foliage as I go. A childish thought dares me to remove my shoes and race down the stairway, though I hold myself in check until I reach the bottom, crossing the small bridge and climbing the small set of steps into the folly; waiting until the man is by my side before doing anything else.

Not allowing him to see, I shuffle my dress over a certain tile in the floor before pushing my shoes down onto it. The ground grumbles a little in response as the mechanisms set to work, which uses energy from the sun to power lights that surround the entire grove. Many are nestled between the plants as if fireflies lurk in there, while others illuminate the water and pathway back towards the entrance.

The man’s expression is perfect, causing me to laugh lightly as he drinks everything in. I rest against the nearest pillar, my gown wrapping around it as I sigh with content. “I never allow any other company in here other than my husband or my sisters, so I am usually alone.” I don’t understand why I wish to bear my soul in this way, but I carry on nonetheless. “It is my haven.”

“And I thank you for the honour of showing me it,” he replies politely.

I turn on him, catching his eyes. “You are an intriguing, modest man, and as I will not explain details of this night to the gossipers of court, I hope that you will hold your tongue for anyone who is desperate to listen.” I pause for a moment, then mutter, “Though I suppose it matters not. My people despise me enough already.” There is a pregnant silence between us, and I try to settle down before he decides to take snippets of what I say and use them against me in the end.

Something strange then occurs.

“I hope not to be bold in saying, Your Grace,” he begins cautiously. “There's an unsettling feeling with any ruler amongst certain groups; some people simply love to hate whatever they can find. And, well to me anyway, I think that while the King is the immediate ruler, you could easily support this kingdom on your own terms. Some may not take kindly to you, however many, including me, do.”

I bore into his eyes, searching for any hint of lies or anything that could lead to him giving some form of subtext to mess with me. And yet, I can only find sincere emotion in his expression, something that I see in very few people. He smiles a little, noticing something in my face too that I can’t decipher myself. When I realise that I am beginning to stare, I return my gaze to the garden.

“T-Thank you,” I say earnestly, falling into deep thought as I realise something. Slowing my pace, I turn on him. “Is it your utmost desire to become a Knight?” He rubs the back of his neck, as if what he has said is wrong. “What I mean is that if you were to become a Knight, you would not trade it for anything else in the world? If you were given the opportunity then you would you take it without even a moment of doubt?” I stare deep into his eyes. “If you had that chance, Ori, would you take it?”

He swallows thickly, then nods slowly. “Without a moment of doubt.”

“Rei?” I raise my head at the sound of the booming voice, straightening myself and standing beside him as a figure looms at the top of the steps into my grove. The fading light manages to reveal his stature as he makes his way down the stairs, mantle billowing out as his armour clanks quietly, golden chains and assets swinging around. I glance over to Ori for a moment before crossing the gap between my husband and I, where I am immediately met by his lips.

As soon as he pulls away, he holds a firm hand to my back. “Dal,” I breathe in slight surprise. “Have you been searching for me?”

He nods in response. “I heard word of you running from the study seemingly upset, so I came after you. I had an inkling that you would be here if anywhere.” I think that he goes to say something else, however his eyes find those of my guest, and there is a sudden silence where not even the animals chirp. “Who is he?”

“He is a worker on the Palace grounds,” I explain, making sure that I ignore his latter comment. “He aided me when I fell near here and delivered me here. He is here for no significant reason and shall be leaving soon. It matters not that he is here, as I am with you now.” As much as I would prefer to stay here and be with a more comforting party, I say what I must and hope that I don’t feel worse by the time the festivities begin within the next hour or so.

He stands in such a way that Ori is blocked from my view, cocking his head to the side to address the half child, glancing down at his left hand before saying, “Your time with the Queen has all but ended, boy. It would be within your best interests to leave us be. This is an honour you shall not receive again so soon.” There is a knowing glint in Ori’s eyes that my husband doesn’t quite catch on to, though I manage to see when I peer around.

Ori bows nonetheless, “Of course, Your Highness.”

He bows to the both of us before starting back towards the entrance of my grove. I watch him the entire way, questions bubbling up in my mind, and I hope to the Gods that he is a humble man on the outside and the inside too; not a rotten apple that desires my throne or my sympathy merely so he can manipulate it for his own horrid ideas.

After all that has transpired this evening, I can’t allow myself to be subjected to torment in that way.

As soon as he reaches the top of the steps, he glances back over his shoulder and meets my eyes. And for that single moment, he passes me a small smile that betrays any lies that he could have given me. I find myself smiling back until he exits the grove, nature swallowing up his form. Despite what I must do, I can’t help but smile back at him, knowing so much about one man in the space of an evening filling me with a new sensation that I have not experienced in a very long time.

Friendship.We met in the heat of night, and I know that whether we meet again or not, I shall treasure this feeling for the rest of my life.