True to her word, the Head Mistress had changed up what their duties would be. Today, Zerena would be working with Colette on dusting the books in the castle's library and washing all the windows on the first and second floor. Unlike the previous day, she was not given time off to rest. They had moved into the library, Zerena holding a duster with puffy gray feathers in one hand, and a rag in the other.
Zerena had marveled at the size of the library upon first entry. It seemed to take up most of the second floor, the oak double doors holding intricate carvings of birds in mid-flight, with large trees bordering either side of the door, the branches winding up and inwards to intertwine with each other. The brass handles are polished with loving care, no doubt done by the blue-skinned man – who had been tasked to do the polishing of all the brass of the second and third floors.
Inside, Zerena had stared in awe at the rows of bookshelves that stood in the middle and made up the walls of the grand library. They reached all the way up to the second floor, with ladders built-in to make it easier for those wishing to access the contents within the shelves. Colette had told Zerena to begin dusting the books on the second floor, while she would work on the first. Her heart nearly plummeted at the realization of just how long it would take to clean off each and every row.
She made no complaint however as she began her ascent to the second level, using the green carpeted stairs to her right. She reaches the ladder all the way at the end of the first row, inhaling the scent of old paper and leather as she went. Up she climbs, until there were no more rungs left to hold on to, the feather duster tucked securely beneath her armpit to keep from dropping it. She reaches for the book at the top left corner, her hands gentle as she wipes away the building dust along the spine and fragile binding.
Zerena glances at the title, not surprised to see that the curling script of the golden letters is in a language she couldn't decipher. She reaches forward with the duster, swiping at the filth that had gathered beneath and behind where the book had sat as well.
This is going to take a while, she muses while gripping the side of the wooden ladder firmly with her left hand as she turns to find Colette, spotting her at one of shelves in the middle of the first floor. She certainly didn't seem to mind the work at all, her feather duster moving quick and efficiently over each book, not even pausing to glance at any of them. Blowing gently from her lips, Zerena turns to resume her work, being careful not to slip as she allows her mind to go numb, to focus on the task at hand.
Thankfully, the ladder has wheels attached to the slats of the shelves, making it easier for Zerena to slide across the rows of books, using her free hand to push herself to the middle of the section while her other continues to dust each of the texts. She's just reaching for the next book, her hand outstretched, when she feels the rung she's standing on begin to wobble. Her stomach plummets as her body begins to fall backwards, her arms flapping wildly as if somehow that might be able to save her. A shriek leaves her, cutting through the silence of the library. Too late does she realize just how high up from the ground she is.
And then she's falling down, down, down, her eyes shutting and her body going tense as she braces for an impact that is sure to be painful.
This is it. This is how I die, she thinks stupidly, still screaming as she plummets towards the green carpet floor. But she never hits it, an impact of a different sort wrapping beneath her shoulders and knees. She falls silent, her eyes opening slowly as she wills her heart to stop beating so erratically. She takes in the honey-gold hair and the pair of unique emerald eyes peering down at her in concern. Her stomach twists with panic upon realizing just who exactly had rescued her.
"Y-Your Highness," Zerena breathes, her legs wobbling beneath her as the Prince sets her gently onto her feet. She lowers herself into a curtsy, her face burning with embarrassment. "Th-Thank you."
"Please rise," The Prince placed a gloved hand against her shoulder, and she straightens. "Are you all right? That was quite a fall..." Zerena watches as he glances up to where she had previously been standing at the top of that cursed wooden ladder. She nods her head, not trusting herself to speak quite yet. Had he not been there in time to rescue her – well, she would not be standing here at this moment.
"I suppose I won't be able to use that ladder anymore," The half-elf states, a nervous laugh escaping her.
"I will see to it that it gets fixed at once." Tristan fixes his gaze on her once again, his lips turning into a frown. "You should have had someone holding it for you, at the very least."
Zerena shrugs, then remembers that perhaps the gesture is probably not the proper one to make in front of the Royal Prince. "Colette and I are the only maids in here currently." She looks over to where the other woman now stands at the foot of the stairs, her mouth open in horror and shock at what had transpired. "We were tasked with dusting all of the books within the library, your highness."
The prince raises his eyebrows at this, his mouth now turning from a frown into a scowl. "The two of you are expected to dust off all of these books by today?"
"It was the Head Maiden's wish, Prince." Colette speaks up now, bowing her head. "We are not permitted to disobey or question our instructions, Your Highness."
"What is the punishment should you not have accomplished your task?" Tristan questions, his voice deepening a dangerous octave. Zerena clasps her hands in front of her at this, to prevent them from shaking as she speaks her next words.
"You should know the answer to that question, Your Highness," She murmurs softly, lowering her gaze. "For me, I will be sent back to where I was before." She hadn't meant to say it so sadly, but she didn't miss the way the prince had flinched from her words. As if he had already forgotten the bargain for her – as well as the eleven others in the same situation as her. "Beg your pardon Prince, but we must resume our work. Thank you very much for catching me."
"No, I was actually sent to fetch you by my sister." That has Zerena's eyes widening in surprise. Why couldn't he have sent for a servant to come get her, instead of looking for her himself?
"Why does the Princess wish to see me?" Zerena questions, ignoring the way Colette looks at her in shock.
"I have no way of knowing," Tristan gives a laugh at this, his green eyes shining in a way that makes Zerena's heart nearly skip a beat. Then he fixes her with a kind smile, the previous anger she had seen on him dissipating as he outstretches his hand for her to take. "Perhaps she wants you to tend to her, though you'll have to find out for yourself, won't you?"
Zerena looks towards Colette, who simply gestures for her to go on. After all, it would be awfully rude to deny the princess of her wishes. She brushes her fingertips against the palm of Prince Tristan's hands, hating that she feels her stomach doing a strange flip-flop at the contact.
He's a prince. That's the only reason I'm nervous.
Maybe if she keeps repeating that to herself she would believe it. Yeah right.
Zerena straightens out the skirts of her uniform as Tristan leads her out of the library and into the passageway, his hand falling from hers as they step onto the marble floors. They walk in silence at first, the sounds of his boots and her heels echoing through the corridor. But then the prince's voice catches her attention, breaking the quiet.
"Where are you from, miss Zerena?" It was a simple question, though it pained her to think of the quiet village she had spent the first ten years of her life in.
"Anaheim, Your Highness." She answers softly.
"Did you ever wish to return?"
Zerena glances away at this, staring towards the polished floor. Perhaps once, she had longed to go back to the cabin she grew up in, to beg her father to let her stay. But she knew that would not be a possibility. Why would she wish to live with a man who never even cared for her? Who hated her very existence from the day she was born? Even if Nolan hadn't sold her to the Slave Traders, Zerena suspects she would have been working just as hard for him.
"No. There is nothing left for me there anymore." She had no way of knowing if her father still resides in Anaheim, or if he had moved back to the purely Elven town he originated from, Alfheim. Either way, she does not wish to risk seeing him again. No, it's best for Zerena to avoid him at all costs. What would Nolan say, she wonders, if he discovered where she had ended up?
The prince leads Zerena through a part of the castle she has not yet been to, another set of spiral stairs leading them up and into one of the towers that seem to stretch all the way to the sky. Her breaths draw short as they continue to climb higher and higher, her fingers brushing against the stone brick wall as if for support. Tristan had no trouble with the exertion, in fact he even took the steps two at a time. Zerena tries to hurry, not wanting him to realize how hard it still was even almost a week after he had brought her from the Farmhouse.
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By the time they reach the landing, Zerena could feel the beginnings of sweat beading at her brow. She hastily wipes the moisture away with the back of her hand, hoping the prince won't notice as he gestures to the set of golden double doors just down the short corridor. The Royal Princess's chambers, she realizes.
The Prince lifts the circular handle and uses it as a knocker, the only warning he gives before swinging the doors open. Zerena allows herself a brief moment to take in the surroundings of the large circular room. The floors are made of unpolished, wooden panels, a fluffy golden circular rug decorating the center. To her left is a grand four poster bed, with minty green, thin curtains draping from the center of it. They were drawn back to reveal a mattress far larger than anything Zerena has ever seen, with mountains of pillows stacked at the head of the neatly made emerald covers.
To her right, pushed up against the pale yellow painted wall stands an oak vanity with a cushioned bench tucked neatly beneath it. To either side is a matching wardrobe and dresser, no doubt filled to the brim with expensive gowns and blouses of all types. On top of the dresser, protected underneath a domed glass case, sits Clara's glittering tiara - emeralds and shiny diamonds embedded around the silver band.
At the opposite end of where Zerena stands, the Princess is seated at the window, her bare feet tucked beneath her legs, her honey hair twisted into a neat plait between her shoulders.
Sensing their arrival, Clara turns, standing swiftly from the dark green cushioned window seat. The light streams in behind her, only adding to the Princess's effects. Even without makeup, Zerena had to admit she was stunning. An all natural beauty, as any princess should be.
Clara gestures for Zerena to step further inside, giving her brother a withering look. Tristan understands that he is not wanted and, with only a roll of his eyes, slips back out the door. The half-elf steps onto the rug, feeling how soft it is even through her shoes.
"You sent for me, Princess?" Zerena offers a small curtsy before Princess Clara could keep her from doing so.
"What did I tell you before?" The other woman questions with a shake of her head. "That isn't necessary, and please, refer to me by my name."
"I figured it may be best to keep up appearances," Zerena states politely, glancing back towards the door. "I don't know this castle . . . but I figure there are ears everywhere."
Clara lifts a perfectly groomed brow at this, but then gives a look of understanding. "I see. Well, there is something I wish to discuss with you, Zerena. But I can't do it here."
The Princess moves to the rug, flipping her end up and over with a firm tug. Zerena watches in confusion as she feels the wooden floor with her hands. She must have found the right one, because she presses down on it firmly. To Zerena's astonishment, it gives way – sliding underneath the other planks, to reveal a hole just large enough for a single person to climb through. She peers down, noting (with some unease), a wooden ladder that disappears into the darkness below. It must be a hidden room of some sort.
She looks back up at Clara, utterly bewildered. The Princess gestures for Zerena to begin the descent first.
"Where does this go to, exactly?" Zerena questions. If she's going to climb down a strange ladder in the middle of Princess Clara's bedroom, she has the right to know why. "What is so important that we cannot discuss here, or even at the garden?"
The Princess rolls her eyes at this. "It's as you said, Zee, there are ears everywhere. What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room, or your lips, for that matter. Do you swear to tell no one of what I am about to tell you, not even your friend?"
Zerena blinks at this, feeling her skin prickle with trepidation. What could possibly be so important? And why would the Princess want to tell her, a half-elven slave, of all people? Or maybe it was because of her heritage that Clara felt she could share her secrets. At this point, Zerena is too curious to decline the strange offer. She nods her head in agreement.
"I swear to tell no one."
Clara seems to sag with relief, giving Zerena a small smile – the first one she had offered so far, before gesturing once again to the ladder. "Then what are you waiting for? Start climbing."
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Zerena takes each step down the ladder with caution, the memory from this morning still fresh in her mind. This time if she fell, there would be no prince at the bottom to rescue her. She grips the sides tightly, relieved when she finally reaches the bottom. Her eyes adjust to the darkness quickly, and once she turns she's surprised to find herself in another circular room – only a hair smaller than the Princess's chambers. She hears a click from above, followed by the sounds of Clara's boots as she descends next.
Looking up, she watches as the wooden slats fall back into place, the only illumination is a flimsy metal lantern dangling from the blonde's loops. At last the Princess reaches the bottom and breezes past Zerena, who follows her further into the room. Clara lights the torches on the stone walls, spaced evenly, their warm glow allowing them both to see better. Zerena wonders just how long Clarisse has known about this secret – quite a while, judging from the plush red velvet couch that takes up the center of the chamber. Shelves line the upper half of the walls, filled with books and scrolls so old Zerena was afraid they would fall apart by merely looking at them. On the coffee table in front of the couch are scattered parchments and what looks to be a map of the kingdom underneath them.
Zerena brings her gaze back to the Princess, who was watching the half-elf scan the chambers.
"Why did you bring me here?" She asks, to which she receives no immediate answer. Clara moves to the couch, sitting comfortably at one end while gesturing for Zerena to do the same. She gives in, but does not recline against the cushions.
"I told you Zerena, I need to discuss some things with you. This is the only place I know safe enough to do so. I know it's a bit small, but I actually find it to be quite cozy." The Princess smirks, then her eyes fall to Zerena's chest, and the smug expression is cleared from her face as she points. "Now tell me, where did you get a pretty necklace like that."
Zerena jumps slightly at this, her fingers immediately flying to the pendant that had somehow managed to slip from underneath the fabric of her dress, and was now dangling precariously between her collar bones.
Tell no one, The Water Goddess had been very clear on that matter. Zerena could not afford to let loose that she was a Champion, especially not to the Princess of all people.
"I-" She begins to explain, but is cut off before she could speak the lie already forming on her lips.
"I thought I had made it clear that we were to keep no secrets from each other, Zee," Clara pouts, leaning in uncomfortably close to get a better look at the necklace. Though her words are nonchalant, the tone from her voice is anything but. Suddenly Zerena felt that these chambers were entirely too small.
"I made a vow to tell no one, Pr–Clara, not even you." Zerena keeps her gaze steady on the other female despite her nerves. Was she truly upset with her? Did the princess plan on punishing her? Suddenly the idea of being down here, in a room that only Clarisse knew of, was beginning to sound like a very bad idea.
Those you think you can trust may seek to harm you, warning bells ring in Zerena's head. But then Clara leans back, a laugh leaving her lips.
"I understand, Zerena. When you make a vow like that, there's no breaking it. But I know what that necklace means, and I know you did not get it from your chambers. I will tell no one. Besides, that isn't what I wished to discuss with you anyways." Clara sits back again, the emerald color of her eyes darkening a shade as she became serious.
"What is it?" Zerena asks again, growing tired of the Princess beating around the bush. Why wouldn't she just come out with whatever she needed to say?
"My brother's plans for you and the rest of the slaves," Clarisse finally begins, causing Zerena to straighten. "It is not to choose a new servant for the palace – but a bride."
Zerena could not find the words to express her surprise, her lips opening and then closing abruptly. She simply stares at the Princess, waiting for her to continue – to provide a further explanation. It doesn't make sense. Why would the Prince wish to marry a half-breed? But she says nothing, and at last Zerena forces herself to speak.
"I don't understand. Why would he want to do that?" Better yet, who would Tristan choose at his coronation? Which one of these females would he deem worthy enough to share the crown with? To share the kingdom with?
"It's purely political. My brother believes that if he weds a half-breed, then he can begin overturning our uncle's law without stirring up riots throughout the kingdom." Clara says patiently, "I was supposed to choose one of the males, but-" She falls silent, and Zerena prompts her to continue.
"But what?"
"The king has arranged for me to marry Prince Calor, the Crowned Prince of Tolentia." Her voice softens at this as she lowers her head. Zerena watches as she fiddles with her fingers, strands of her golden hair falling in front of her eyes. Her heart twinges at the sorrow in the other woman's tone.
"Why can't your brother refuse the engagement once he is crowned?" Zerena questions, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. Clara shakes her head, a pained laugh leaving her.
"I'm afraid it does not work like that. If we break our oath to the Northern Kingdom, it is a sign of disrespect. Besides, if I do not agree to marry their prince, our uncle will see to it that Tristan will never have the crown. He will send you and the others back to the camps. I could not let that happen." Clara sighs, but then lifts her gaze back to Zerena's. "I already have a guess at who my brother will choose."
"Really?" Zerena asks, but goes tense at the other female's meaningful look. "That can't be possible. I've barely spoken to him. Why would he choose me? What if I refuse?"
"Then your kind will never be freed." Clarisse states flatly, her gaze narrowing. "We all must make sacrifices for our kingdom, Zerena. Besides, how bad could marrying a prince truly be?" That smirk is back on her lips, but Zerena does not find the humor in this situation.
"What happens to the others, should the Prince actually choose me?" That was the important question. Zerena could not bare to have Rosale and the others be sent back to their camps, not after weeks of living in the palace. It would be too cruel.
"I'm still working that out. I've been developing a . . . plan of sorts." The half-elf raises her brows at this, but waits for the Princess to continue. "I want to create a group of rebels. People who wish to stand up for their rights, made up of half-breeds like you. But I need a leader, Zerena."
She didn't like where this was going.
"I don't know anything about being a leader, Clara." Zerena breathes, her head suddenly feeling dizzy with learning so much in so little time.
"Nothing is set in stone yet. But I do plan on getting these servants out of the castle after the coronation. I just . . . don't know how to go about doing that. Finding somewhere they can hide safely will be difficult." Clarisse shakes her head, moving her hand to rest atop Zerena's. "We have to go back up, I told my brother to come fetch you in a half-hour. We will speak again soon." Another smirk. "I'm looking forward to being able to call you my sister, Zee."
Zerena gives her an appalled look, to which Clara lets out a bubbly bout of laughter before standing. "Oh, relax. Remember, you cannot speak of this to anyone, Zerena."
"I promise, Clara." Zerena lets out a sigh, unsure of how she would be able to focus on work now after what she's learned. She smoothes back her blue hair, tucking the stray bits behind each of her ears. Before they make their ascent, Clarisse's eyes are drawn to it.
"You really do have unique hair, Zerena. It makes sense now though, doesn't it?" Clara grins, "There's rumors that Aqua and her champions are the only ones with that color. I'm shocked at you for not figuring it out sooner."
With that, the Princess leaves Zerena gawking at the bottom of the ladder well, pulling a lever that slides open the false flooring. The half-elf shakes her head, laughing despite herself before climbing upwards herself. She never would have dreamed of being put in a situation like this – why the Princess even trusted her with this information, Zerena had no clue.
Would Prince Tristan truly choose Zerena? She didn't find that likely – there are certainly better options. The bigger question, what would her answer be to the proposal, should it actually happen? These are all things she would have to ponder over later, once her chores are complete and she's in the safety of her chambers.