The Reluctant Queen

Winter snow lined the planes and all the leaves of the forest trees that were once green. Marie hated the journey to Palais d'été. She never understood why the residence her family took in the winter was called a summer palace but she did appreciate being huddled next to her mother and father, with many layers of blankets covering them. No matter her age, that was her favourite part of the journey. Unlike her elder brothers Crown Prince Charles and Prince Lucien, Marie had no memories of the entire family travelling to the summer palace together. Charles was the heir and Lucien was the spare. It was forbidden for either one of them to travel with the King. Lucien told her many stories of his travels to the palace. The King would stop the carriage and ride the planes with his sons. Being the youngest and an unexpected arrival, Marie had never seen that side of her father nor had she ever experienced what it was like for all their family to travel together. Marie always travelled ahead

The last time that the people saw Princess Marie was at the funeral of her mother and father. Many watched as the young girl placed a wreath over each of her parents’ caskets. Since that day, the Princess was never seen again in public. Very few people knew of the young lady, always in simple pastel dresses and a matching veil covering her head, who occasionally left the palace. Only those who lived close to the palace saw her coming and going from the palace to the church. Many rumours flew around the country as to why the once troublesome girl had become such a recluse. Others said that the accident which took the King and Queen’s lives had left Marie marked beyond recognition hence the veil seven years after the event. Many others barely remembered what she looked like. Her appearance was a matter of much discussion and her mannerisms even more so. The latter was blamed on being raised by her older brother, the King, who indulged her in all things, or rather failed to enforce the

The King’s welcome was grand indeed. Circus folk hung in the air, statuesque, while others walked around the room with colourful snakes around their necks as they served hors d'oeuvres and others breathed out fire like fantastical beasts. Prince Wilhelm neither welcomed the distraction or cared for it. It didn't matter. The ten royal guards, in all black and silver cloaks matching the colours of the Crown Prince’s attire at official events, that Wilhelm had brought with him were his father's way of saying I have my eye on you. It also worked as a perfect reminder that he wasn’t there of his own volition. The only person Wilhelm trusted and kept at his side was Adolf. Women had already seized him up and his disinterest had somehow gathered more of their attention. Through Adolf, Wilhelm received invitations to secret locations where he could only imagine what he would find. Even the King encouraged it. But after two weeks of merely existing at the palace, the King had come to underst

“I heard the Queen was fuming that Prince Wilhelm is not giving her the attention she requires,” Nanny spat. “Serves her right! I hear he spends most of his evenings out of the palace, it must kill her that there’s a man not willing to bend to her qualms.”Marié ignored her and continued placing clothes in a wooden trunk. Her week-long visits to the monastery went quicker than she expected. Perhaps it was due to the increased number of hours that she had to put in to stop her brother from driving their home into hell. For a long time now, Marie felt like a guest in her own home. She felt more at home with the sisters at the monastery and the children. Returning to the palace was harder than leaving, and why would it? By King Charles definition, Marié was more rebel than she was a princess. “Did you hear what I said?” Nanny asked, tapping Marié on the shoulder with her fan. Marié rolled her eyes. “Prince Wilhelm is the epitome of charm and perfection, I have heard you the first hundr

Beaten and broken, Marié lay on the chilled stones of the dungeon, underneath the magistrate’s halls. Caked up blood sat on her forehead and her body was so tense that she rather the contents of the leaking roof trickle down the musty walls and pool over her instead of moving away. Heavy lidded and covered in darkness, Marié knew that she could not fall asleep again. Her pulse violently thumped against her temple, a reminder of being hit over the head. Despite not being able to see it in the dark, the smell of bile was in the air and she knew that she must have woken up at some point and threw up. “Is this what you meant by helping them?” Marié quietly asked the empty room. No one ever answered. Yet Marié knew that none of the things she had done in the last seven years was what her mother planned. It was difficult knowing what the dead wanted or what they would have done in the same situation. Metal clashed against metal as the constable baton passed over each bar of the barrier k