07-06-2013, 07:06 PM
His Majesty Vernon Howard Kenrick Leontius felt that all was going to plan. He sipped on his tea, a nasty smirk on his face, as his daughter sat across from him, bound once more in so many layers of fabric that she looked more like a wedding cake than a person. As all women should be; the women of the upper class ought to be seen and never heard, and the women of the lower class were to do their duty by their menfolk with no complaint. Such was the role of women.
The dissatisfied and defeated look on his daughter's otherwise fairly lovely face just made him smirk evermore. “Why, Cecilia,” he said, “Did you really fancy yourself at home among those savages?”
The princess directed her somewhat dark and red-rimmed eyes to her father, but said nothing. He laughed and encouraged her to drink her tea before it got cold. “You should be glad you got your mother's beauty- for you'll be needing it.” He waited for a response, knowing his spirited daughter would have a hard time staying too silent for long.
“What does that mean?” she asked, furrowing her brows. She didn't trust her father, no one iota, and knew he said everything with purpose. She lifted her chin proudly. “Why am I even here right now, father? Why don't you just banish me to my room again?”
His dark blue eyes widened in feigned shock and he placed a hand over his heart. “Why, daughter, you wound me! What if I just wanted to see you after you'd been gone for so long?” She glared silently in answer, and he chuckled again. “Well, if it's business you want, then... Cecilia, tomorrow you're to have luncheon with your new fiancé; like I said, it is quite lucky you inherited your mother's looks, because I doubt any man would want a woman both lippy and homely.”
“What? No! Father, I don't want to get married,” she said in alarm, almost rising from her seat. She desperately looked over at her father, and saw no pity in the lines of his face. Though he often remarked on how she looked like her mother, Cecilia often could see some of her likeness in her father.
King Vernon, though somewhat aged, was still a fit and handsome man, with a strong and stubborn square jaw, a straight and proud nose, high and aristocratic cheekbones, and deep set blue-black eyes. His hair used to be a curling mass so red that it about hurt to look at, but now it was curiously going almost pink at the roots as his age was beginning to show. Of course, the young princess knew better than to think that he'd ever let something like age stop him from remaining the most skilled among his own warriors, and his broad shoulders still boasted of powerful musculature.
Vernon's dark eyes went hard as he stared at his daughter. “You are lucky you didn't spoil yourself while you were away with those beasts. And speaking of the young wolf pup below... I hate to say it, darling, but if you do not go through with a proper marriage to this young man of noble birth and breeding, you'll find that your little pet's incarceration will be more than merely uncomfortable.”
Cecy stared at her father, then hung her head. “Yes- father. I- I'll do as you say.” The unspoken For now, echoed rebelliously in her thoughts, but she dared no say it; she had not one clue as to how to go about saving her friends. “Who- who am I to marry?”
“Lord Landon Corey Ryan Reynold III, son of the Duke of Norfield,” the king said, his smirk returning. “He's exactly the sort of man an unruly woman like you needs.” He reveled in watching his daughter squirm for a moment, then sat up a little straighter and turned to the guard posted at the door, awaiting orders. “Please escort my daughter back to her room; I am done with her for now.