Unknown person

His eyes nervously darted between his timepiece and the corridors.

He waited with bated breath, wedged tightly between the one of the double pillars that flanked either end of the hallway of the Western Bordeux Dungeons.

It was his good fortune that Master had been in an indulgent mood when the news of his folly had reached him. Not only had Master forgiven him for the fiasco at Derelia, but he had also miraculously given him a second chance.

A second chance to accomplish what he had failed to at first attempt.

There had been very little time to plan, but somehow, with his Master's help and that of his own henchmen, he had been able to sneak past the front guards. He had even managed to slip into the Dungeons through a side door covered in shadows - all the while skirting around the edges of danger with his heart in his mouth.

He almost got caught on several occasions. Reaching thus far had been nothing short of excruciating.

Indeed, the current security arrangement in the Dungeons was too perfect, much more stringent than it had been in the past under the leadership of the Lord President. It was almost as if his successor, his daughter the Lady Knight, took special care to keep knaves like him in mind when she redesigned the security plan.

She was very intelligent, he had to admit.

His Master, however, was nothing if not a genius. Having lived within the boundaries of the Castle for a very long time in the past, he knew and remembered his way about the Dungeons fairly well enough to devise a way to break through this impregnable fortress.

And now he, his Master's most loyal follower, was about to carry out the task that had been assigned to him and him alone, above all others. He was well aware of the honour he had been given the first time, and the fortune this second time.

He was going to make his Master proud. This time, he would not fail him.

However, this junction was the most difficult portion of his Master's plan, and the most crucial. What he was about to do within a few moments had to be done with perfect timing - not a second too soon or too late.

Three.

All the guards stationed suddenly stood at attention.

Two.

A silent signal seemed to pass through them, as they saluted and pivoted to the right.

One.

They marched out through the same side door he had first entered in a single file, and their replacements marched in simultaneously, in the same formation.

This was it. This was his chance. There was no time to lose now.

He swiftly fished out the duplicate key bunch from his pocket and jumped out of his hiding place, before sprinting headlong towards the other end of the long corridor, his eyes searching for the correct dungeon number.

143....143....143...

It was located at the very end of the hallway, chilly and deserted. The familiar rush of excitement flooded him as he fumbled through the keys in his hand for the correct key to the door. When he found it, he held it up towards the keyhole.

Now all that remained between him and his triumph was this iron-wrought door.

Without further ado, he shoved the key into the hole with sickening eagerness, feeling a heady sense of achievement intoxicate his mind. Somehow, deep down, he knew he was going to be victorious this time. He knew he was going to make his Master proud. He just knew.

He was about to finish what was left incomplete before.

***

The Lady Knight

"Is everything ready?"

Very much red in the face, I fought to keep up with the long strides of Lieutenant Raleigh next to me, as we hastened across the Castle gardens, towards Bordeux Dungeons, straight after dawn training that morning.

"Aye, Ma'am," Lieutenant Raleigh supplied, "Lord Lucien has been briefed on what to expect this morning, and will soon be brought to the interrogation chamber. The other Captains on our team have already assembled there, and are now waiting for our arrival."

"Good," I nodded in approval, "now - "

"Lady Knight!"

Startled, both Lieutenant Raleigh and I paused in our tracks, and turned around to find one of Her Majesty Queen Consort Eleanor's Ladies-in-waiting, Lady Cara, gliding rather slowly and gracefully towards us.

She made no effort to hurry even after seeing us waiting for her.

Almost at once, my irritation flared. I knew Ladies of the Society like her very well indeed, who read and practised the rules written in the Book of Social Etiquette as if it was the very Bible.

With accordance to such a holy text, proper Ladies did not run - they glided.

"Come, Lieutenant Raleigh," I beckoned him, "if Lady Cara truly has something urgent to relay to me, she would walk a little faster, and cease wasting my time. Interrogation begins in less than ten minutes." I raised my voice to make sure she had heard, before walking ahead.

Lieutenant Raleigh seemed undecided. "Ma'am - "

But it worked. Lady Cara picked up her skirts and quickened her steps towards me. She seemed as annoyed with me as I was with her, as she came to a gentle stop before me and bobbed a half-hearted curtsey in greeting.

"Lady Knight."

I inclined my head at her. "Lady Cara."

A scowl graced her face. "I was tasked to inform you that Her Majesty the Queen Consort wishes to speak with you, Ma'am," she rose from her curtsey, "and that she would like you to meet her at her boudoir now."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I knew that the Queen would not have sent for me so early in the morning unless it was truly important. However, this particular moment was not the best of times -

Lady Cara grew more irritated in my silence. "I am sure that Her Majesty has something of great import to discuss with you if she is willing to make time for you in her busy schedule," she remarked frostily, "I suggest that you do not dally a moment longer, and accompany me to her boudoir this very instant."

She levelled me with a familiar haughty look that I was certain that all the Ladies of the Society had practised to perfection in front of their looking-glasses.

It had always made me feel very small, even as a child, and I hated it.

On instinct, I pinned her with a fiery glare - one that reduced her insolent expression to one of fear at once.

"You do not have the right to order me about thus, my Lady," I emphasised quietly, "your task was only to relay the message, and it has been done. You may leave my presence."

She flinched at the barely veiled censure in my voice.

Lieutenant Raleigh lay a hand on my arm. "Ma'am, please go ahead and meet Her Majesty. Her wishes take precedence," he suggested gently, "you can join the interrogation later. The rest of us will take care of it in the meanwhile."

I nodded curtly, seeing the wisdom in his words. "All right, then. I shall join you at the earliest opportunity," I told him, before, "lead the way, my Lady."

Once again, she insisted on gliding all the way to the North Tower, which was located in the opposite direction from the dungeons. As a result, it took a total of fifteen minutes to reach the Queen's chambers.

That time could have been shortened by half, at least, had we walked a little faster.

"Your Majesty?" Lady Cara knocked thrice before entering the Queen's boudoir, "the Lady Knight."

I followed in behind her, masking my disgruntled expression with a slightly happier one.

The Queen, seated with her embroidery at the centre of the room, was surrounded by some of her Ladies-in-waiting, who were either engaged in their amusements, or engaged in various tasks and errands around the chamber for her.

She looked up at me and broke into a blinding beam. "Jules, darling! Come, sit by me, my dear," she beckoned me, her eyes twinkling lovingly.

My lips pulled up in a genuine smile at her greeting.

Queen Eleanor was like my second mother, and she had been everything to me after Mama had died, and Max had left the country. She knew and understood well the pain of losing a loved one to the clutches of death. Indeed, ten years ago, her eldest son, former Crown Prince James, had taken his own life.

Young as I had been, I remembered the whole country plunging into deep mourning. The poor boy had only been seventeen at the time of his death. Some said he could not handle the pressure of his position, while others claimed that he had lost at love.

The only person who knew the true reason for his suicide was now six feet beneath the ground, forever silenced.

Furthermore, on the very day of his funeral, twelve-year-old Prince Richard, the current Crown Prince's Nicholas' twin brother, had gone missing. One moment, he was standing by his mother's side as the eulogies were being read out, and the next moment, he was gone.

Everyone had searched high and low for him for years. To this day, no one knew where he had vanished off to, and all believed him to be dead.

His mother had been distraught, inconsolable. She had refused to leave her chambers for weeks after his disappearance, until the King had coaxed her out and persuaded her to remain strong for their family's sake.

Pain was nothing new to her, and she understood me. She had always been there, ready with a hug and good advice whenever I fell afoul of my father. At times, she reminded me so much of my own Mama, that it was saddening as much as it was comforting.

I walked towards her to sit beside her now, as Lady Cara drew up a chair for me. "Good morning, Your Majesty," I smiled tiredly, "what is this urgent matter you wished to speak to me about?"

She fondly touched my cheek in greeting. "Although the matter is not urgent," she began, "it is of certain importance, and I hope you will listen to me."

"Do I not always, Your Majesty?" I answered wryly.

Indeed, she had a way about her that could convince almost anyone around her into doing anything, including my nigh impossible father. I did not know what it was - charm or charisma - but regardless, it was a dangerous weapon in her arsenal that she knew well how to use to her advantage.

She now broke into a mischievous smile. "You are right," she agreed, before, "well, then, I am certain that you are aware that the Socials are approaching, darling."

I sensed a sudden shift in the atmosphere of the boudoir at the mention of the Socials, as the Queen's Ladies-in-waiting began to subtly listen in on our conversation.

The Socials were a series of balls held every year during the Winter season. Starting in the first week of October, each of the twelve dukedoms of Monrique hosted a ball every week, up until the last week of December.

The first and the thirteenth balls were held in Bordeux Castle by the royal family of Monrique to commemorate the beginning of the Socials, and the new year on New Year's Eve respectively.

The invitations to these balls were precious few, and it was every Monriquan mother's dream to be able to afford an invite for their daughters to attend one of these balls, as it was every daughter's obsession secure herself a rich husband during these balls.

I found it a revolting part of our country's traditions, truth be told. All marriageable women were paraded around like mares to be bought in front of the menfolk during these balls, for them to choose a wife and settle down in life.

"Aye," I sighed heavily now.

"And I assume you have already received all twelve invites from the twelve duchies?"

I nodded, mystified. I had always received the twelve invites from all the duchies every year for as long as I could remember. Since my father the Lord President was the most important man in Monrique, second only to the King and the Prince, I was also considered an important Lady of the land, despite my misgivings, and was thus invited to most aristocratic balls.

However, I had only attended once, and I was not particularly inclined to do so again.

"Good," the Queen leaned back on her seat, satisfied, "now, allow me to ask you a question at this junction, darling. How old are you?"

"I turned two and twenty this August."

"And has it not occurred to you to begin thinking about your future?"

"My future?" I frowned in bewilderment, "but I am already living my future. As a Commander General, as a Lady Knight, like I have always wanted to. I am perfectly satisfied with my life at the moment."

"You may be satisfied, darling, but I am not," the Queen huffed, "it is indeed high time that you start finding a suitable groom for yourself, and get married. Most women your age have already wed, and have their first-borns in their cradles."

I stared at her in surprise for a few moments, before breaking into a bout of chuckles. "Me? Finding a groom and marrying?" I shook my head in amusement, "what a thought, Madame. An excellent jest."

The Queen did not smile back. "I, on the other hand, am perfectly serious, my dear," she raised an eyebrow at me, "and I would like you to accept at least one of the Socials invitations this year and attend the ball."

I was stunned into silence once more.

The Queen knew, as well as I did, that I was not a Lady who thrived on social events. Indeed, I had a bitter experience at my first and last ball many years ago, and I did not want to attend another one if I could help it.

The ballroom was adorned with banners of red and gold, the De Beauharnais house colours, and the gold glitter that had been shaped into dragons of various shapes and sizes stood guard on the walls, adding majesty to the ballroom.

The hosts, the Duke and Duchess of Roche, had truly outdone themselves that evening.

The Ladies of the Society present were all dressed in gowns of a myriad of colours, sparkling like stars in the chandelier light, as they revolved on the dance floor with their equally dashing partners.

On the other hand, my dashing partner and I were struggling.

"Ouch, you stepped on my foot again!"

I suppressed a sharp cry of pain for the umpteenth time that evening. I almost fell on top of my good friend, Prince Richard, who was holding me in his arms.

The bumbling twelve-year old steadied me by the waist before I could lose my balance. He grew flustered and red in the face with embarrassment, as his grey eyes brimmed with guilt.

"I am sorry, I am sorry," Richard apologised profusely, "I will be more careful."

With that, he took a small step back from me, and adjusted his hold on me. We then continued to move together in our usual, awkward gait to the waltz music.

I could vaguely hear the grown-up couples around us snicker at us under their breaths in amusement.

Beasts.

"It is not entirely your fault, old chap," I assured him morosely, "this potato sack is trailing the floor. No wonder you almost tripped on it." I gestured to my gown.

Indeed, I was wearing one of my cousin Tess' hand-me-downs – a faded peach gown with torn frills and sequins - that was much too big for me and did not suit me at all.

But beggars could not be choosers.

Although Papa, by some miracle, had allowed me attend the De Beauharnais' ball, he had flatly refused to grant me any money to purchase a decent gown to wear to it. Max had little left from his allowance, and therefore, he could not aid me either.

Richard wrinkled his nose now, as he looked me up and down. "Your cousin has horrible taste in gowns," he agreed, before sighing, "and we are horrible at dancing. Mayhap I should have listened to you and skipped this ball entirely."

"I told you so," I muttered, "I – "

Someone collided forcefully against my side just then, almost causing me to lose my balance again. Immediately after, I felt ice-cold liquid seep through the fabric of my dress. I gasped at the sensation, shuddering, as I turned to look into a pair of dark, ocean-blue eyes.

"Why the hell would you do that?" I spluttered.

Standing before me was my cousin, Lady Therese De Beauharnais, whose old gown I was wearing. She, on the other hand, was dressed in a new, lilac gown that flowed down her body. Her shiny golden blonde hair had been styled into a neat chignon, and a diamond studded headdress was holding it up.

No doubt my Tante Rosanna had gone all out for her elder daughter, as usual. Tess looked extremely beautiful, more so than she already was without her fineries.

Tess twirled her now empty glass in her hands. "Oh, oops," she observed my wet gown with a frown, tilting her head, "what an unfortunate mistake."

"That was intentional and you know it, my Lady," Richard put in indignantly, "which person in their right mind walks across the dance floor in the middle of a waltz?"

"Nay, I was not referring to that, Your Highness," she answered quietly, her eyes flickering to his, "I should have brought red wine instead. Orange juice is not as visible against that gown." She bit back a regretful sigh.

Richard was about to lose his temper, but I held him back. "She is not worth it," my voice was firm, "come, let us leave."

With that, I tugged him as fast as I could away from her, weaving past the people on the dance floor. She and my Tante Rosanna were nothing but trouble, and they disliked me immensely for a reason I had yet to understand. Indeed, they had not even wanted me to attend their ball, but they had not dared insult Papa the Lord President by begrudging me an invite.

To be very honest, I would not have attended in the first place, if not for Richard's stubborness. As such it was in my best interests to stay the hell away from them both as much as possible while I was here -

"But it is still not too late," I heard Tess remark viciously behind me just then, before I found myself drenched from head to toe in red wine!

I screamed in shock, freezing where I stood, as I turned around. Tess was gazing at me, with four empty glasses in her hands, her lips pulled up in a malicious smile.

Richard's eyes grew wide, stunned.

"Ah, much better," she murmured, musing, "but it is missing something..."

Before I could find my voice, she had reached around me to snatch a few pastries from the nearby refreshment tables. Richard, realising what she was about to do, tried to grab her hands to stop her, but she pushed him aside vengefully. I backed away at once, tripping over my gown as I attempted to flee her, but she grabbed hold of my arm to pin me in place and proceeded to smear the pastries on my countenance nevertheless.

I screamed out loud again, my voice ringing throughout the ballroom.

"You are a madwoman, Cousin!" I yelled, spluttering, "why are you doing this to me?"

An amused smile played about her lips. "Because I do not like you," she shrugged, "if that was not clear already."

The music had long ceased, due to all the fuss we were making. All eyes in the ballroom were on me, judging, mocking and ridiculing. Tante Rosanna, seated on the dais, simply watched on with ill-disguised glee in her countenance, sipping on her glass of red wine.

At that moment, someone began to push their way through the crowd. "What is happening? Why did the music stop? I – "

Another twelve-year old, who was identical in appearance to Richard, appeared in front of us at that moment.

Prince Nicholas was he, whose gaze slowly took in the scene – the look of horror on Richard's face, the empty wine glasses in Tess' hands, my appearance - before he burst into guffaws, doubling over.

"This is not funny, Brother-mine," Richard hissed at his twin, "she did all of this to Jules on purpose!" He pointed to Tess.

Nick ignored him, as his gaze lingered on me unkindly. "Look on the bright side, Julie," he smirked at me, "at least now you have an excuse to change out of that God-awful gown. Truly, it does no favours to your already terrible countenance."

"I doubt changing into any other gown is going to make much difference to that, Your Highness," Tess muttered, to which Nick laughed even louder.

Soon enough, the crowd joined in their laughter, finding some sort of twisted humour in this situation. Or mayhap they were laughing at how silly and petty this children's squabble was.

It was not petty to me. Humiliation burned through me with such an intensity in that moment, that it left me breathless and my eyes stinging with white hot tears.

Both of them had been my friends in the past. Tess and Nick. Both of them. With each passing day, however, I found it harder and harder to believe, or even remember, that we had ever gotten along.

"I swear to God – " Richard started angrily now, but I shook my head at him.

Without another word, I took his wrist and stomped out of the room before I could be further shamed before society.

I shook my head subtly. Now was not the time to dwell on this. The Queen was awaiting my answer.

"What is the hurry, Your Majesty?" I protested resentfully, "I have no wish to marry at the present. In any case, a husband would merely crush my dreams, and my career. All the menfolk these days are of the opinion that their wives and sisters and daughters merely belong within the boundaries of their households."

My father, for example, I wanted to add, but refrained.

The Queen smiled tenderly. "You have to find the right man, darling. One who will consider his consort as his equal, and will help her to bloom and grow to achieve her potential," she argued with gentle reasoning, "and you, my dearest child, are born to be a warrior. Any man with eyes can surely see that."

"But - "

"But nothing," she insisted, "you are well aware that I only have your best interests at heart, yes?"

"Aye, I am aware, and I appreciate it, Your Majesty."

"Then place your trust in me," she took my hands in hers, and stared straight into my eyes, "and attend one of the balls."

I sighed quietly. "Madame - "

"You are young, and you are beautiful, inside and out," she continued sincerely, "there is nothing stopping you from finding your consort, your soulmate, except for yourself. Please believe me when I say that not...not all men are like your Papa." Her last words were a soft assurance.

I blinked at her, completely taken aback. For a long while, I knew not what to say, as my lips parted and closed like those of a fish out of the water. Her eyes, on the other hand, were filled with compassion and understanding of my predicament, my indecision, as she always had.

I found myself nodding, despite myself. "I will go. Just once."

She broke into a wide smile. "Excellent, darling. Now - "

At that moment, the door flung open without warning, and Lieutenant Raleigh tumbled in. Perspiration poured down his cheeks, and his straw blonde hair was in a mess, as he attempted hard to catch his breath to speak.

The Queen and I, together with the rest of the Ladies-in-waiting in the chamber, rose at once, alarmed.

"Lieutenant Raleigh?" I frowned at him, "why - "

"Your Majesty, Ma'am," he cut me off wildly, "my apologies for this rude interruption, but I am afraid I bring grave, grave - "

"Lieutenant Raleigh, what is wrong?" the Queen tensed up, but Lieutenant Raleigh looked straight at me when he spoke next.

"Lord Lucien has been murdered."

***

A/N: As you can probably tell, I changed the casting for this story. I picture Kate Winslet as Queen Eleanor, but you guys can picture her as whoever y'all want :)