Fatima: The Slave Princess

The Next Day

The birds were chirping enthusiastically as the scent of dawn permeated the air. I woke up with a headache I had never felt before and had no recollection of last night's events. When I first opened my eyes, I was lying on top of Nathan who was fast asleep inside the carriage. However, my sudden loud shriek caused him to jolt awake. I tried to inquire about last night, but my stomach was not cooperating, as I nearly puked inside the carriage. I felt so nauseous I could barely speak without retching.

"Commander, I've brought the requested medicine, sir." Said one knight as he extended a small glass vial to him.

I noticed everyone's gaze towards me was odd. They must have come into the knowledge of my status as a slave.

"Did something happen to me? Oddly enough, I'm having a hard time recalling anything from last night."

"You drank alcohol." He replied curtly.

"Pardon?" I replied with a blank stare.

He was sitting at the opposite end of the table with his head leaning on his fist, and his legs crossed so elegantly he looked like a completely different person. He chuckled under his breath as he stared at me.

"I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused. Sir."

"Is that so?"

A mischievous grin quickly formed on his face as he grabbed the small vial and handed it to me.

"Gulp this down in one shot. Then drink every last drop of this cup of water."

"Yes, sir!"

I took the medicine from his hand and consumed it as instructed. It was the most gut-wrenching thing I've ever tasted. I couldn't stop retching because of the bitter aftertaste lingering in my mouth and throat.

"Sire, we have completed the preparations for our departure. We are ready whenever you are." announced a maid.

"Very well, you may leave."

"Yes, sire." responded the servant with a bow before she walked away.

++++++

"Your majesty, permit me to ask. Is the crown prince to return to the capital with the delegation?"

"You phrase it as though you know not the reason for his behavior, Marquis Valentini."

"Your majesty, I find it hard to believe the prince harbors lingering resentment over a mere scuffle that occurred nearly two years ago." Said duke Wrotingthon as he caressed his short beard.

As the sole male heir to the crown, I was bent on raising him to be perfect in every way. His education started at the young age of five, and by the time he was six, he was already absorbing everything he learned, word for word. His instructors and I were very proud of his progress, however, we failed to notice something very crucial.

"Your majesty, I believe it would be best to cease his highness' lessons temporarily and allow him to be around children his age. I'm afraid his highness is…"

I foolishly dispelled their concerns for the prince and pressured them to continue as is. I was obsessed with making him the perfect heir with little regard to anything else.

"Kazein, my son, you must become strong. Your abilities both academically and as a Sant must surpass that of your ancestors. You must not abuse your authority, you must respect your vassals, you must carefully listen to their concerns, however-"

He was only eight years old when his mother was poisoned and met an untimely end. Kazein did not shed a single drop of tears throughout the entire process of his beloved mother's passing. My son had become devoid of emotions, indifferent to his surroundings, and withdrawn from the rest of the world. It didn't take long before the newspapers picked up on his condition and started publishing slanderous articles about him. They constantly featured his face, with new headlines highlighting his condition.

'The crown prince is broken.'

'Alkaraz's only heir is possessed by a demon.'

'What happened to the prince of Alkaraz?'

In an effort to clear his name, I arranged play dates for him at the palace every day. However, the number of daily complaints I received from the maids became gradually worrisome. The children described Kazein's demeanor as strange, terrifying, and overall unpleasant. He didn't cry when he was hurt, laugh when he was happy, nor did he whine about anything, no matter how unfair. He kept everyone at bay and refused to play with any of the children.

At fourteen years of age, the prince suddenly disappeared for two whole days. He was later on found at the bottom of an empty well in a most disheveled state. His version of the story was that he climbed down on his own accord because he wanted to be alone. However, a year later, a brawl ensued at his birthday banquet.

'The crown prince has gone mad.'

'A tyrant leader is on the rise.'

His reputation, which was already in shambles, took another nosedive. In an effort to remedy the situation, I delegated him to travel around the world for an entire year, which was also considered as a temporary exile. However, one month post his departure, duke Wrotingthon's youngest son came forth with the truth.

"Go on, tell his majesty the truth." commanded the duke scornfully.

The boy was trembling in fear as he stood on his knees in the throne room. He bowed his head in full prostration as he struggled to speak. 

"Your majesty…" he stuttered; his voice echoed in the silent room.

"Speak properly, Alexander!" angrily shouted his father, which made him jolt in fear.

"I am deeply sorry, your majesty. T-the thing is…"

As the boy explained what had been taking place during their encounters at the palace, a sense of guilt suddenly came over me. I lashed out at him and called him a disgrace out of anger, but the prince was struggling all by himself. As his father I should have listened to him when he tried to explain himself. When he received my letter of apology, it was too late. Thus, in a fit of rage, I issued a decree.

'I, Emperor Exzavier Jan Von Alkaraz hereby sentence the following individuals to one year of complete confinement to reflect and repent from their wrongdoing.'

'Ivan Wrotingthon'

'Alexander Wrotingthon'

'Princess Eloise Yurivera Von Alkaraz'

'McMillan Valentini'

'George Bartrum'

'Failure to adhere to this decree will result in a harsher punishment'.

~Present Time

"We must come to a solution to resolve this crisis, your majesty."

"Agreed Lord Wrotingthon."

"If he's refusing to set foot in the palace, what then will happen to the throne?"

"To make matters worse, he's still without a court!"

"Silence!" I shouted while slamming my fist on the table.

The meeting hall instantly grew quiet as their attention was now focused on me. I drew a loud sigh while clasping my fingers under my chin and displayed a solemn expression.

"The crown prince will undoubtedly come running to the palace, right after the funeral in Ecchelon. I am certain of it."