The Loneliest Ballad

"But you only bore one son, isn't that so, Your Grace? And that was in your middle years." Celia wasn't necessarily trying to sound spiteful. She just wanted to point out the truth - that for all her haughty airs, Queen Maura was no better than her. "Perhaps I'll be the same. After all, you're always one to say that one son is enough if it's the right son."

The queen gasped in shock, then struck Celia across the cheek as she roared. "How dare you? How dare you compare yourself and your empty womb to me?"

Celia tried not to make a sound as her head was whipped around by the force, though she felt the queen's heavy rings bite into her flesh.

"I have given this country the best of sons and you've given us nothing!" Maura continued shouting. "Out of my sight! I don't wish to see your face again until you can apologise!"

Celia stood with every scrap of dignity she had, the side of her cheek stinging. "Apologise for only speaking the truth? As you wish, Majesty. I guess that means the two of us won't be crossing paths again anytime soon."

Tobin pushed himself to a standing position, glaring at her. "Go to our rooms and stay there until I decide otherwise! I won't have you disrespecting my lady mother." To the two guards in livery that stood at the hall doors, he yelled, "Escort my wife to our apartments immediately and stay at our door to guard. Day and night. She's not to set foot outside until I say so!"

Celia gazed around warily as the guards started marching towards her. Was that really how is was going to be? She was being locked away for speaking plainly?

One of the guards grabbed her by the elbow but she tried shaking him off. "There's no need for that. I'm happy to return to my rooms without protest."

Undeterred, the guard tightened his grip on her arm, his fingers clamping around her elbow like a vice as he started to steer her out of the room.

Behind her, she heard Tobin's voice ring out, "Take your punishment with humility and be thankful I'm not ordering to have you whipped, you barren bitch."

- - -

Celia had to almost run so she didn't stumble as the guards hustled her at speed through the palace until they reached her presence chamber doors. Despite her protests that they didn't need to drag her and that she wouldn't try to resist or run, the guards looked at her with blank expressions as they continued to march her along.

Wherever they passed people in the palace, be it courtiers or servants, the whispers rang out. Celia knew she'd be the topic of all conversation for days to come.

After all, wasn't it deliciously scandalous to see the future queen dragged into imprisonment like a common criminal?

The presence room doors were swung open and Celia was unceremoniously shoved inside. She almost tripped and lost her balance. Prickly with anger, she turned to face the guards.

"Is that how you brutes handle the Crown Princess of Havietten? For shame."

One of the men had the gall to smirk at her. "Begging your pardon, my lady. But it's not as if you're with child. So what is there to protect?"

Before Celia could respond, both guards turned on their heels and left the presence chamber. A moment later, she heard the door being locked from outside.

With a resigned sigh, she looked around the luxurious room. Despite what Tobin might think, her being shut away wasn't some unimaginable punishment. It meant not having to eat her midday meal with the queen or take her dinner in the banquet hall while all and sundry stared at her. It meant not having everyone's eyes constantly assessing her for signs of pregnancy.

Even having the company of her ladies-in-waiting stripped away from her wasn't much of a loss. Lady Sabine was kind but the other two women were catty little souls. Celia wouldn't be surprised if they were spying on her and reporting directly to Queen Maura.

She'd make the most of her solitude, then. The only pity was that she'd still have to share her nights with her husband in the bedchamber. If it wasn't for that, Celia would probably ask to never be released from her prison.

As she walked into the bedchamber, she noticed a folded parchment on her side of the bed. She picked it up and saw her name written on the front.

The moment she recognised the handwriting, all of Celia's stoicism and bravado left her. It felt like a blade had been jammed under her ribs instead.

It was a letter from her mother. Her eyes turned damp at the sight of her mother's round, almost childlike writing. Celia knew how even now, the mighty Princess Violet Devon struggled to write fluidly, the result of a meagre education in her youth.

With shaky hands, Celia unfolded the note.

I miss you, my daughter. More than you'll ever know. Write to me and tell me about all that's good in your life, so that I can share in your joy.

Your loving Mother

It was more than she could take. Celia pressed the parchment to her heart and began to sob quietly as she thought of everyone and everything she desperately missed from home.

She knew she'd write back to her mother soon. She'd scrawl a letter that described music and picnics and living the life of a well beloved young princess. Celia knew that all letters coming to and from her were read by palace agents, so what was the point of describing her actual life?

The truth would never reach Islia.

And even if it could, what good would it do to break her parents' hearts? They wouldn't be able to help her. She was a married woman now. She was under the authority of her husband, not her father.

So Celia knew she'd grit her teeth and write a letter full of false merriment. She would.

She just needed a little time to shed her tears before she picked herself back up again.