The grand square shimmered under the midday sun, a spectacle of gold and silk. Banners emblazoned with the royal crest snapped in the breeze, and the air thrummed with the anticipation of the assembled crowd. Today, the Trial of the Crown would not only be announced but the very fate of the kingdom would be divided.
Antoinette stood on the raised platform, her emerald gown a stark contrast to the pale stone beneath her feet. Thea, Grace, and Catherine stood beside her, their faces composed, their postures radiating confidence. Queen Isolde, her expression an impenetrable mask, sat on the royal dais, while King Theodore surveyed the crowd with an unreadable glint in his eyes.
Below, the whispers began, a low, insidious hum.
"She won't last a day. I mean, look at her. She looks like she's about to ask for a bouquet of daisies, not rule a kingdom."
"The 4th Princess? Competing? She's just a formality. Like a decorative throw pillow. Pretty, but ultimately useless."
"I heard she cried when a butterfly landed on her nose. Imagine trying to negotiate a treaty with her. 'Oh, the butterfly was too sparkly!'"
"They're just including her for show, to make the rest look like they're competing against actual royalty, not a porcelain doll."
Antoinette took a deep, steadying breath. They think I'm still a ghost, she thought, her eyes hardening. They will learn, and they will learn with comedic timing.
Before the King even began to speak, Antoinette's head turned slowly, her gaze sweeping across the crowd. She paused, her eyes locking onto the group of nobles who had just uttered those specific insults. Her expression was utterly devoid of humor, her eyes as sharp as shards of ice. She held their gazes, one by one, a silent promise of retribution hanging in the air.
The noble who had made the "daisy" comment suddenly found his throat dry, his words lost in the sudden silence. The one who likened her to a "throw pillow" nervously adjusted his collar, his face flushed. The "butterfly" whisperer's eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, looking away. The person who called her a porcelain doll felt a chill run down their spine.
Antoinette's gaze lingered for a moment longer, then she turned back to the front just as King Theodore began to speak. She had made her point. They would think twice before speaking so freely again.
The ceremony began with King Theodore's booming voice echoing across the square. "Today, we inaugurate the Trial of the Crown, a test of leadership and wisdom. Each princess will be assigned a region within our kingdom, to govern and improve for two years. Their success, or failure, will determine who is worthy to inherit the throne."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. This was a departure from tradition, a bold move that would test the princesses in a tangible, demanding way.
"To ensure impartiality," King Theodore continued, "the selection of these regions will be determined by the votes of our noble court, free from any royal influence."
Antoinette's brow furrowed slightly. No royal influence? Interesting. And by interesting, I mean suspicious.
The nobles began to cast their votes, their whispers and hushed discussions filling the air. Antoinette watched, her gaze sweeping over the faces of the court, trying to decipher their intentions.
The King then motioned to a scroll, which an attendant began to read.
"Princess Thea will be assigned the prosperous region of Aethelgard."
Thea smiled serenely, a picture of composed confidence. The crowd applauded politely.
"Princess Grace will oversee the bustling region of Sylvaniar."
Grace curtsied gracefully, her expression one of gentle determination. The crowd responded with warm applause.
"Princess Catherine will govern the fertile region of Cragspire."
Catherine beamed, her golden curls catching the sunlight. The crowd erupted in enthusiastic cheers.
"And Princess Antoinette…" The attendant paused, his voice dropping slightly. "…will manage the remote, impoverished region of Seabarrow."
A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Antoinette's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed, her expression betraying nothing. Seabarrow. The furthest, most neglected corner of the kingdom, notorious for its harsh climate and struggling populace.
Below, the whispers turned into open mockery.
"Seabarrow? She'll be blown away by the first gust of wind!"
"They've given her the worst of it! It's like sending a kitten to fight a dragon."
"She'll be begging to come back in a month. Maybe in a box."
Raven, an informant known for her sharp wit and even sharper eyes, watched from the edge of the crowd. Seabarrow? she thought, a smirk playing on her lips. They've handed her a one-way ticket to failure.
She turned to her companions, a group of equally cynical observers. "I'm betting she'll mistake a crab for a noble and try to have tea with it. Anyone else?"
Her friends eagerly joined in, placing bets and exchanging knowing glances. She'll never survive, Raven thought, her eyes glinting with amusement. She's too soft. Too sheltered. And definitely not crab-tea ready.
Antoinette stood her ground, her face a mask of serene indifference. She felt the weight of every gaze upon her. Thea's eyes glittered with a triumphant gleam, a silent "I told you so" hanging in the air. Grace's expression was a mix of concern and thinly veiled relief, as if to say, "Oh, dear, how unfortunate… for you." Catherine, ever the showman, couldn't quite suppress a smirk, a flash of pure, unadulterated glee. Queen Isolde's eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin, almost imperceptible line. Antoinette could almost hear her thoughts: Let's see how you handle this, little rebel.
King Theodore's gaze, however, was different. It was a study in quiet observation, a flicker of something akin to curiosity in his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, as if trying to decipher her reaction, searching for a crack in her composure. Antoinette met none of their gazes, her attention fixed on the horizon, her posture unwavering. She would give them no reaction, no satisfaction. She would not let them see the flicker of surprise and the immediate plan she had started forming. She would not let them see her calculating the odds.
Thea, unable to resist, leaned slightly towards Grace and whispered, just loud enough for Antoinette to hear, "Well, isn't that… convenient? Seabarrow. Perfect for someone who prefers solitude."
Grace, ever the diplomat, responded in a hushed tone, "Thea, please. It's hardly the time…" But her eyes betrayed her, a flicker of satisfaction that she couldn't quite conceal.
Catherine, never one for subtlety, muttered under her breath, "Seabarrow? She'll be lucky if she finds a decent gown there, let alone a throne."
Antoinette remained unmoved, her silence a shield against their barbs. She knew they were trying to provoke her, to break her composure. But she wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
King Theodore's heart clenched as the name "Seabarrow" echoed through the square. He had suspected the region selections might be manipulated, but he hadn't anticipated such a blatant act of sabotage. His gaze flickered to the faces of the noble court, their expressions a mix of smug satisfaction and feigned innocence. They've rigged it, he thought, his jaw tightening. They've deliberately set her up to fail. He had wanted this trial to be fair, a true test of his daughters' abilities. But the very system he had put in place to avoid bias had been twisted into a weapon against Antoinette.
He watched Antoinette, searching for any sign of distress, any flicker of fear. But she stood tall, her expression unreadable. She's stronger than they think, he thought, a surge of pride mixing with his anxiety. But is she strong enough for this? Seabarrow was a harsh, unforgiving land, a place where even seasoned leaders struggled. He knew the challenges she would face: the harsh climate, the dwindling resources, the disillusioned populace. He knew the whispers that would follow her, the doubts that would chip away at her resolve.
He had hoped this trial would be a chance for her to shine, to prove her worth. But now, he feared it was a trap, a carefully orchestrated plan to eliminate her from the competition. I should have intervened, he thought, a wave of guilt washing over him. I should have foreseen this. He had trusted the nobles to act impartially, to uphold the integrity of the trial. But he had been naive. They saw Antoinette as a threat, a wildcard that could disrupt their carefully laid plans.
His gaze shifted to Isolde, her expression as cold and unreadable as ever. Did she have a hand in this? he wondered, a knot of suspicion tightening in his stomach. He knew she had never favored Antoinette, had always seen her as a liability. But he hadn't thought she would resort to such blatant manipulation. He had underestimated her ambition, her ruthlessness.
He watched as Antoinette remained composed, her silence a stark contrast to the murmurs of the crowd. She's not giving them the satisfaction, he thought, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. She's not showing them her fear. He knew she was intelligent, resourceful, determined. But Seabarrow was a formidable challenge, one that would test her to her limits.
He wanted to call out, to protest, to demand a fair trial. But he knew it would be futile. The damage was done. He could only hope that Antoinette would find the strength to overcome the obstacles they had placed in her path. He could only pray that she would prove them all wrong.
The ceremony concluded, the crowd dispersing, their whispers following her like a cloud of gnats. King Theodore stepped down from the dais, his expression troubled, but before he could reach Antoinette, her sisters swarmed her.
"Oh, Antoinette," Thea began, her voice dripping with false sympathy, "Seabarrow. How… quaint."
"Yes, it's… rustic," Grace added, her tone carefully measured. "I'm sure you'll find it… charming."
Catherine burst into laughter. "Charming? It's a dump! Honestly, Antoinette, what did you do to deserve that?"
Antoinette finally turned to face them, her expression calm. "I'm not sure what you mean, Catherine."
"Oh, come on," Catherine scoffed. "Everyone knows you got the short end of the stick. Seabarrow is hopeless. You'll never succeed there."
Thea stepped closer, her voice low and menacing. "Perhaps if you had been more… compliant, you would have been given a more suitable region."
"Or perhaps," Grace interjected, her tone deceptively sweet, "you simply weren't deemed capable of handling anything more important."
"Maybe they thought you'd be happier with the crabs," Catherine snickered, her eyes glittering with malice.
Antoinette's gaze hardened. "I am not concerned with your opinions," she said, her voice clear and firm. "I will succeed in Seabarrow."
"Oh, I'm sure you'll try," Thea said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But trying isn't always enough, is it?"
"Especially when you're starting from… well, nothing," Grace added, her eyes scanning Antoinette up and down.
Catherine let out a cackle. "Maybe you can build a sandcastle while you're there. That's about all Seabarrow is good for."
Antoinette took a step closer to them, her voice barely above a whisper. "I will not waste my time arguing with you," she said, her eyes burning with determination. "I have a region to govern."
She turned and walked away, leaving her sisters standing there, their expressions a mixture of surprise and frustration. They had expected her to crumble, to beg, to plead. But Antoinette had simply stood her ground, her resolve unwavering.
As she walked away, she could still hear their mocking laughter, their cruel words echoing in her ears. But she didn't let it break her. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction. She would use their hatred, their doubt, their arrogance as fuel.
They think they've won, she thought, a determined smile playing on her lips. They have no idea what they've unleashed.
She walked with purpose, her head held high, her emerald gown swirling around her like a banner of defiance. She didn't look back, didn't falter, didn't give them the slightest hint of weakness. She knew they were watching her, their eyes filled with malice and anticipation, waiting for her to break. But she wouldn't give them that pleasure.
As she passed a group of nobles, she paused, her gaze sweeping over them. They had been among the loudest in their mockery, their eyes filled with smug satisfaction. Antoinette's lips curved into a subtle, almost imperceptible smile.
"Seabarrow," she said, her voice clear and carrying, "is a land of untapped potential. And I intend to unlock it. Besides," she added, a spark of genuine enthusiasm in her voice, "I hear they have excellent seafood."
The mention of seafood brought a genuine smile to her face, a flicker of warmth that was not lost on the observing crowd. Man, I could go for a lobster right now, Ethan thought, mentally salivating. Maybe some clams, too. And definitely some good ol' fish and chips. This Seabarrow place is sounding better by the minute. Forget ruling, I'm thinking seafood buffet.
The nobles exchanged confused glances.
"Seafood?" Thea scoffed. "That's all you care about?"
"Honestly, Antoinette," Grace said, shaking her head, "you're being ridiculous."
Catherine burst into laughter. "She'll be too busy fighting off seagulls to even think about eating!"
Ethan, or Antoinette in this case, simply smiled, a secret knowledge warming her from the inside. They have no idea what they're missing. I'm gonna be living my best life with endless seafood. They'll be jealous when I return with a tan and a belly full of shrimp.
King Theodore, who had been watching from a distance, heard Antoinette's comment about seafood. A wave of bittersweet nostalgia washed over him. Seafood, he thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips. If only they knew. He remembered a young Antoinette, barely old enough to walk, choking on a tiny bone from a fish. The memory was vivid, the panic of the moment still fresh in his mind. She almost died that day, he recalled, a shadow of worry crossing his face. She hasn't touched fish since. Unless... he thought, his eyes widening slightly, Unless... she's not herself? He shook his head, dismissing the absurd thought. No, impossible. But still… seafood?
He watched as Antoinette turned and walked away, her head held high, her emerald gown a splash of vibrant color against the fading light.