"Ẅ̤Ë̤'R̤̈Ë̤ Ḧ̤Ë̤R̤̈Ë̤," said Estelle, reining in her horse to a stop and Rafael was soon to follow.

   Stepping down, she looked at all the people assembled, and the large building at the centre of the town, just newly constructed. Reginald came to stand behind her, silent.

   "The Queen is here," one said.

   "Along with the Duke," said another one.

   "Wait, is she wearing breeches?" questioned another. To that, Estelle threw the man who asked that a chilling gaze that made him shut up.

   "But . . . who is that person standing next to the Queen? He looks like a foreigner," another asked, and everyone's attention centred on Rafael, seeming to notice him for the first time.

   "Didn't you hear? He's the Queen's betrothed; our future King. Rumor has it that he is the Crown Prince of Zejardo," whispered another one.

   "I think introductions are necessary, isn't it?" asked Rafael, falling into step with her as she made her way to the raised platform in front of the building. Wordlessly, Estelle nodded her head as she stepped onto the platform and cleared her throat.

   "Greetings, my fellow citizens," she started as Reginald joined her, standing to her left and Rafael to her right, "for that is what you are: fellow inhabitants of this wonderful land. No matter my rank, or yours, or the difference between it, we are all citizens of Troyes and nothing will ever change that.

   "'Tis my pleasure to introduce Crown Prince Rafael Hernando of Zejardo, my betrothed," said she, motioning towards Rafael who made a humble bow and flashed his signature smile that enraptured everyone.

   "Plenty of you have seen the rise of this building and have no doubt asked yourself what it is. This building in front of you, is the foundation of the future Troyes. 'Tis meant not only for the children and the future generation, but, for adults as well, if they may wish to join. However, for the children aged sixteen and below, it is manadatory to attend.

   "Now, as to what this building is. This, this right here," she stepped aside and motioned to the building behind her, "is the new Clervaux Learning Room. Such institutions have been erected everywhere across the Queendom, for we have understood that not only aristocrats should be educated, but, our people as well; our fellows.

   "For you—yes, you—are the foundation of this country. You are the ones who toil the land, sow it, reap your harvests and feed the entire country. Some of you design weapons that aid the country in protecting itself and hundreds of other things that makes Troyes the strong country it is. We can't just ignore your efforts.

   "Therefore, in contribution to all your hard work, their will be no pay demanded for the learning. The teachers, and all the learning supplies will be provided by the Crown. People of all ages can attend, and there will be taught the Three Rs: Reading, Writing and Arithmetic. This will hopefully modernize our dear Troyes and help the children become more knowledgeable in matters concerning the business world and adult life," said she, a smile slowly making its way across her face; an earnest, beautiful smile that Rafael adored and one that moved all the villagers. She raised her right fist and held it above her heart before raising it skyward, her head raised to the skies and a determined look in her eyes.

   "Pour Troyes!" she chanted and the rest of the villagers mimicked her gesture.

   "Pour Troyes!" everyone chanted, even Reginald beside Estelle. Rafael just stood in front of the crowd—moved by their Queen's speech, eyes showing nothing but unadulterated adoration for her—dumbstruck, unsure of what to do. However, he had to hand it to Estelle, she had a way with her people, making them united and feel so . . . loved.

   Turning around, she unsheathed the sword hanging by her waist—how had Rafael failed to notice its ever-constant presence?—and cut the thin strip of silk tied to the gate of the building. A cheer rose from the crowd and hats were thrown into the air. Just then, Estelle turned around, watching her people with a mix of joy and compassion, and saw Rafael standing to the side with a proud smile on his face.

   He walked over to her and took her hand in his, then raised it to place a fleeting kiss on her knuckles that sent shivers up her spine.

   "You've done well," was all he said as he just stood beside her while the villagers set up a long, dining table at a huge meadow beside the cobblestone road leading to the fortress. She looked up at him and smiled, which he mirrored, making her feel a tumult of movements in her lower abdomen.

   "All credit goes to Alain, though. He is the one who came up with the idea when he was going through his duchy and saw a huddle of children playing. He asked one of them to draw for him the directions to a certain place, but, the children knew not how to even hold a pen. He found it so saddening and told the rest of the council about it his idea," she said.

   "You could have refused. You are the one with the final say in things," said he.

   "But I didn't," she replied and looked up at him and saw the way his hazel eyes sparkled, something within their depths. He smiled and she reciprocated it.

  Now that she thought of it, she smiled a lot recently. No, not the forced, fake ones she would show her courtiers, but real ones, earnest ones she couldn't help but simply show. And all of it, because of this man standing next to her, holding her hand in his softly and from time to time, squeezing it and giving her a beautiful, dimpled smile.

   "Your Majesty, the table is ready," a villager spoke from beside them, drawing the both of them out of their musings. Rafael was the one who responded with a smile and a nod of his head. Her hand still in his, they made their way to the long table in the middle of the meadow.

   Estelle sat at the head of the table, Rafael to the seat right of her and Reginald to the left. As for the rest of the table, commoners occupied the rest of the seats, some sat on the grass, chatting away happily, but none had touched their food. Grabbing her spoon, Estelle took a sip of the delicious broth lying in front of her and all began to eat while nattering nineteen to the dozen.

   Rafael and her said nothing, eating in compatible silence until when they had finished, he took her hand and squeezed it, forcing her to look into his eyes and his soft smile.

   "You, mi corazón, are a marvellous woman," said Rafael, his voice heard over the din and a hush fell over the table. Sensing over a hundred pairs of eyes on her, Estelle blinked and looked at their interlinked hands shyly and a pink blush crept up her cheeks.

   "Thank you," she replied, refusing to look at his intense gaze.

    "Aww," the crowd said at once and Estelle felt another layer of blush add.

   "Are you blushing?" Rafael teased, holding her flaming cheek in his hand and rubbing a thumb on it.

   "Awww," the crowd said once again while Reginald just sat beside Estelle, awkwardly.

   "Stop it," said Estelle, her voice coming out weak and not a hint of confidence in it.

   "Don't tell me you're shy, mi corazón," said Rafael.

   "Awwww," the crowd cooed, watching the little display. Quickly, Estelle's eyes swept over the crowd and a chill descended on the table.

   "Stop. It," she ground out and silence reigned.

   "Come on, 'tis only our first course, no need to be so formal. But, what I said is true. You are a marvellous woman and I am so honoured to be your betrothed," said he, this time with a low voice, and smiling in earnest.

   Nothing eventful happened during the meal, besides from the light jokes made at the table and the bonding that Rafael had with the people, regaling to them tales of his days in Zejardo. The villagers were nothing but marveled by this foreign Prince and most of them had wished the two happy upcoming nuptials which caused Estelle to step away from the crowd, leaving behind a smiling Rafael. Afternoon slowly approached and Reginald had reminded them that they had to head back to the castle to prepare for the Ball in the evening.

⚔️👑⚔️

   "Majesty! What should you wear? The green dress? The blue one? Zaffre? Turquoise? Majesty," Clarice cried out in despair, ruffling through Estelle's trunks. Estelle just sat in front of the looking glass, her thoughts far away.

   "Yes, that one," said she, absentmindedly. Clarice raised her head from the dresses and looked at her, confused and slightly upset.

   "But, Majesty, which one? The green or the . . .  are you even listening to me?" asked she, then later deciding that she should continue with her rummaging when she noticed that Estelle was still not paying attention to her.

   Estelle's thoughts, in truth, were on a person who slept in the door opposite hers and was most likely preparing himself right then.

   What would he wear? What if we end up wearing matching colours? Oh, how wonderful that would be, is what she thought throughout. She was acutely aware of how foolish and utterly childish her thoughts were, but she couldn't help herself. Rafael had snaked his way into her thoughts a lot lately.

   Have I done so as well? she thought, and her face flushed unwillingly. Oh, how she hated the fact that she had become so . . . so . . . teenage-like.

   "I've found it!" Clarice exclaimed, rising up with an aubergine dress in hand and a victorious expression on her countenance. In quick strides, she was already beside Estelle and doing the necessities required before she put the dress on her.

   Unlike the last gown she had put on, this one was every bit a ball gown. With burgundy lace gloves, a plunging neck-line, a flower-embroidered bodice, and voluminous skirts that fanned out below her narrow waist. And for the little cherry on top, her golden crown resting atop her jet-black hair, which had been pinned up by two sword-like pins

   "Oh, Majesty, you look beautiful," said Clarice, sighing with her hands clasped together.

   "Thank you," said Estelle, appraising herself in the mirror. Sweeping up her skirts, she stepped out of her chambers and made her way down the corridor with Clarice beside her.

  Her eyes roamed about everywhere in search of whether Rafael had waited for her, but found naught. Sighing, she made her way to the red-velvet curtains which were opened by the Herald hastily and he pounded his staff on the wood-panelled floor twice, the signal given for a Noble guest.

   "Her Grace, Lady Clarice of Clervaux." Her Ladyship went down the stairs, and was met by her husband at the foot of them. Estelle's eyes scanned the crowd coolly, searching for Rafael, but not wanting to seem overeager. The Herald then pounded his staff thrice, the signal for a Royal guest.

   "Her Majesty, Queen Devereux of Troyes!" Estelle stepped out of the curtains, her head held high and a calm expression on her countenance. Her hand lightly grazed the banister as she made her way down the staircase and a hush fell over the crowd.

   "Your Majesty," said Rafael, popping out from the sea of nobles which had then sank into reverences, flashing her a handsome smile. Sinking into a bow, he never tore his eyes away from her and that cheeky smirk of his was still intact. As he rose up, he took her hand and placed a fleeting kiss on her gloved knuckles that left Estelle, ehem, aching for his usual lingering ones.

   The maestro began playing a tune and Rafael led Estelle to the dancefloor, where they took positions for the dance.

   "You look dazzling, mi corazón," said Rafael, as they joined hands. Estelle raised her hand and chuckled into her glove.

   "You don't look too bad yourself," she answered, looking up at him from her lowered lashes.

   "Come on. 'You don't look too bad'? I give you extraordinary adjectives like, stunning, dazzling, astounding, breath taking and all I get is that? How unfair, Su Majestad," said Rafael, not a hint of disappointment in his voice. Rather, he seemed quite happy with himself and Estelle smacked his shoulder playfully, which made them both laugh.

   "I know if I compliment you any better than that, it will make your head bigger than it already is," said she, and he rolled his eyes at the comment.

   "How well you know me. But, please, just one little praise, please," begged Rafael, managing to somehow enlarge his eyes and make his hazel irises sparkle, and jutting out his lower lip in such an adorable manner.

   Estelle looked at him, from his jelled back hair—a golden crown sitting on the side of his head—revealing his strong jaw and his high cheekbones, his full—no, she wouldn't think of those now. He wore a white shirt beneath his burgundy coat and a cravat was loosely tied around his neck. His coat was cut across with a golden sash, portraying all his dignitary badges from back in his home country. His burgundy trousers were form-fitting and his black, leather boots reached up to his ankles.

   Raising her head, she looked back to his calm smile and his hazel eyes, not knowing that her own eyes had gone all gooey as well.

   "You look good. Really good," she breathed out and Rafael smiled even more; however this time, he smiled at her adoringly and lovingly as one would when looking at the most precious thing. Gently, he pulled her closer to his person then slightly bent his head to her ear, his lips lightly brushing the tops of it. Estelle's ears blushed and her breath hitched.

   "I knew that," he whispered and it took a moment for Estelle's dazed mind to register what he had really said.

   "You little, son of a—" her insult was cut short by Rafael's boisterous laughter as he threw his head back. For some odd reason, her face paved way for a broad smile and she joined him in his laughter and for the first time in a long time, she didn't try to hide her laughter. She outright laughed her heart out as Rafael spun her round and held her at arms length as he, too, spun around.

   The music finally reached its end and he let go of her as he bowed and she curtsied. Rising up, he took her hand and placed it at the crook of his elbow, leading her to the buffet table.

   Together they ate while talking and laughing from time to time. Some nobles came by and greeted them, welcoming them to Clervaux, despite them having been there for three days already.

   Reginald and his wife came by as well and Clarice couldn't halt gushing over the way her and Rafael had danced so beautifully, holding each other in their arms so lovingly like a young couple would. Estelle had kept her face stony at the matter, though Rafael was the only who noticed the light tinge of pink at the tip of her ears. He couldn't help but smile at how she became so shy when people talked about them as a couple. Indeed, they were betrothed, but, they never actually got round to talking about their, ehem, nuptials.

   All the nobles left and the two were left alone once more. As Rafael turned to Estelle, he smiled that cheeky smile of his and started making fun of the people who had come by.

   "Don't move," came a dark and sinister voice from behind Rafael and he could feel something sharp at the middle of his spine.

   Estelle's eyes snapped towards the hooded figure standing behind Rafael, her entire calm and cheerful disposition melting away, replaced by a more chilly one, filled with nothing but utter seriousness. She set down her glass of wine, still not prying her eyes away from the intruder.

   "What do you want?" she asked, her voice icy and her eyes a steely grey that Rafael had never seen before.

   "Follow me, silently, and he won't get harmed," answered the hooded figure and, did then Estelle get to know his accent from the length of his sentence.

   He was Martinian.

   Setting her thoughts aside, she nodded her head and followed the man as he led Rafael, pressing his dagger deep into Rafael's back, making him groan and bite his lower lip to stifle his groan and not alert Estelle. He knew she would worry.

   "A man, aren't you? Don't want to show any weakness in front of your woman?" said the intruder, pressing the dagger deeper into his flesh and Rafael could feel the pierce already there and the blood drenching his shirt.

   However, while the Queen and her betrothed were being led out, the crowd remained oblivious, indulging in drinks, dances and conversation. Not a single person saw what was going on.

   Silently, the Queen was led out a side door and Rafael tried his best to cover his pain, but, Estelle saw it. She saw the pain flicker through his face everytime that accursed man stabbed Rafael and, it felt like a stab to her heart as well. She had never seen Rafael show any sign of pain, apart from the emotional pain she sometimes inflicted on him. But, other than that, he was a cheerful and carefree person; and she loved that about him.

   The corridor was dark, apart from the single torch lit further down the corridor and no one was at sight, atleast that's what they were led to think. When Estelle looked around, she could see the limp bodies of her men. They . . . the connés had killed her men. Another layer of anger was added onto the fuming fire she already had inside.

   "Vincenzo, grab her," he said to another man who took hold of Estelle's hand. "I have to hand it to you, Your Majesty, you are very compliant. Not a single complaint all the way," the Martinian said, and Estelle could see the sinister smirk beneath his hood.

   "Let's see whether you think I'm compliant once I get my hands on you," said Estelle, her voice perfectly calm, not betraying the panic she felt inside. But, she meant what she said. This man was going to regret ever laying his filthy Martinian hands on her betrothed.

   Rafael smiled adoringly at Estelle and he tried to stretch out his hand towards her, but, he was quickly stopped by the knife pressing into his throat.

   "Don't you understand the meaning of 'don't move'? I'll make you understand," the man holding Rafael hostage said, and he pressed the knife into Rafael's throat.

   "Ughhh," Rafael groaned, shutting his eyes and his face paled. Estelle watched the single drop of blood drip down Rafael's normally unblemished neck, now scarred by a huge gash just below his chin.

   That, that had been the last thread.

   "Rafa!" she called out, snapping out of her captive's hand and running towards him only to trip on her gown. Oh, how she hated gowns at the moment.

   When she hit the floor with her knees, her head fell forward and her hands beneath her. The pins that held her hair up, fell down, and her hair tumbled onto her face.

   The men broke into guffaws and she huffed out a breath.

   No, she had no time to pay attention to that searing pain in her knees.

   She had no time to look at her scarred hands.

   She had no time to pick up her pins and hold her hair up . . .

Her pins.

   Quickly, she scrambled after them and picked one up in her hands, just when her captive hurled her up. Silently, she hid the pin in the folds of her gown.

   A smirk spread across her lips.

   Maybe I don't hate gowns so much, after all.

   She looked up and saw Rafael's chapped lips, slowly turning blue and the drop of blood that had leaked had now turn into a river, soaking his white shirt in blood. He leaned over to his captive's side limply and he raised his lids to look up at her. A feeble, weak smile tried to make its way across his countenance, but he failed to make it all the way.

   "Star. Don't... don't look so forlorn. I'm... I'm fine," he rasped. No, he was not fine and the both of them knew that. The man tugged on Rafael's arm roughly and he turned around, walking further down the corridor. Estelle's captive pushed her forward as well and they started walking.

   Estelle's heart ached and she tightened her grip on her hairpin; it was her only weapon.

    The enemy turned his back to her. Smirking, she shook her head as she remembered her father's defense lessons.

   Never give your enemy your backside, mon ange. Remember this. Oh, she did remember, but now, it was to her benefit.

   Slowly manoeuvering her hand forward, she gave it some room for momentum then quickly thrust it behind her, straight to her captive's innards and he let out a groan as he lightly dropped to the ground with a soft thump.

   Before the enemy had time to turn around, she had taken out her three-inched, sword-like hairpin and threw it at the enemy's back with enough force for it to bury itself into the upper left side; into his heart.

   The enemy fell to the ground as well and his dagger dropped from Rafael's throat, clattering to the ground. Rafael, having no support now, leaned on the wall beside him, looking at the two dead men lying on the ground. However, one was not so much dead—and it seemed like Estelle had caught on to that fact as well.

   "Your Majesty!" she could hear Reginald's voice, but she had no time to pay any attention to him.

   "Who sent you?" she asked, pressing her heeled slipper to his chest and the enemy groaned aloud.

   "The... The..."

   "Speak, man! Do something good in your life before you pass on, at the very least!" she shouted, having long lost her patience.

   "The...," the enemy wasn't able to finish his sentence as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body grew stiff. He was dead.

   "Merde!" Estelle exclaimed, kicking the limp body on the ground.

   Rafael had fallen to the ground as well, his energy dwindling as his blood rushed out of his chest, his back and his body ached all over.

   He stared at the sight before him, disbelieving of the Estelle he had just saw. This Estelle in front of him looked murderous, vengeful and vindictive. Yes, he was aware of how skilled she was, but, he never thought she would ever . . .  kill someone.

   The guards that had arrived a little earlier on stood dumbstruck as well and Reginald's jaw had dropped.

   "Why are you just standing, tu connés! Scour the castle and find those bastards!" she commanded the guards standing there. "And if you come to me with reports on the negative, I. Will not. Be pleased," she gritted out and some of the guards quickly dispersed, their limbs visibly trembling.

   "Es . . . Estelle," Rafa croaked out, his face having grown pale and deprived of any and all colour due to the blood loss. Estelle was at his side in a heartbeat as she knelt beside him.

   "Call the Physician!" she yelled and one of the guards that had stayed behind dashed out to do his Queen's bidding.

   "Rafa, listen to me. You stay with me, alright? Do not dare to close your eyes! You hear me? Don't dare!" But Rafael could not help himself. A weak smile appeared on his countenance as his eyes slowly shut.

   "I..." He didn't finish his sentence as his head hung limp on Estelle's shoulder.

  👀

Bonjour! Has been a long time hasn't it? I'm so terribly sorry but I got caught with writer's block 😖

My mind just refused to work and if the chapter seemed rushed, the next chapter will compensate for it ;)

How do you like thus little peek into action?

Lots more are coming (hint! Hint! ;)

Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope you have a wondrous day :))

Glossary:

L'attaque: The Attack.

Tu Connés: You f*ckwits.

Oui, Estelle can have a pretty colourful tongue.