The path to the garden remained quiet like it had always been, Ophelia appreciated this as she calmly headed to the old elm tree at the far end of western hedge.
Stepping away from the outer corridor, warm sunlight kissed her skin and the cool wind fanned her loose braided hair. It was refreshing, bringing a feeling of nostalgia and tender memories from her past.
The small maple tree still sat at the corner, a simple yet firm swing which was attached to it's branches, dangled back and forth in the soft wind. She watched it for a short while, remembering the time when her father would place her gently on the padded bench and swing it till she was breathless.
She missed him. She missed both her parents dearly, and dared to hope that maybe if she weren't alone in the world, happiness wouldn't have eluded her so.
Pushing the constraints of these memories to the far reaches of her mind, she confidently walked towards the magnificent tree that stood in the distance.
"Just WHAT do you think you're doing?!"
The strange man questioned, his strange eyes stared at her in confusion as he held unto her hand, the same one that clutched the cold handle of the stiletto aimed at her heart.
The princess panicked at the sight of him.
She was completely unaware of the fact that a person had been reclining by the elm tree.
If the stranger had announced himself earlier, then the confounded lady would never have stayed in the garden, where her suicide attempt was so rudely interrupted.
"Uggh!"
Taking advantage of his bewilderment, she released her captured hand which firmly gripped the weapon, then stabbed at her wrist hoping to cause some level of harm to her body. Enough to at least prevent her from meeting with the king.
Unaware that he'd caught wind of her intentions.
Taking the desperate princess by surprise a second time, he grabbed hold of her wrist, applying just enough pressure till she was forced to let go of the weapon.
"Ah! Let go. Leave me alone!"
She cried, struggling against his hold.
"Just...What, is wrong with you?"
He asked calmly, his confused expression sobered as he studied her tear streaked face.
"Why in the world would you want to kill yourself." He questioned.
"And with something like this?"
She didn't respond, the princess only looked down and cried. She cried in frustration, and anger, it was all so exhausting.
He sighed, then kicked the dagger-like blade away from her feet, before saying.
"I assure you, ending your life won't end your suffering, you will only prove to your enemies that they have always been right."
His words carried truth that hammered on the her conscience, Ophelia couldn't look up at him, shame stifling her actions.
""I may not know you, but i'm sure whatever it is you're going through, isn't worth dying over."
Yes, he could not possibly understand.
Having to endure endless insults and humiliation from the aristocracy, servants and her own family, she was truly exhausted.
When she stopped struggling against him, he gently let her go, and both of them grew quiet as more tears pooled down deep blue eyes. After a short while she opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a familiar voice.
"Your Highness!"
The anxious Vilda shouted running towards them, with two guards trailing behind her.
The man looked at the maid who rapidly approached them, he waited by Ophelia's side till Vilda was at a close distance, then he turned in the direction of the east palace and was about to walk away when she asked him.
"W-who are you?"
"I'm only a person who thinks you have much more to live for... your highness."
The stranger simply watched her, he didn't smile but his presence was comforting, and it made the dull sunlight feel just a bit warmer.
As he dissapeared from her line of sight, his final words made her knees grow weak, and she crumpled to the ground in tears.
"He's right. Mother, father i'm sorry." She cried,
"I won't give up, I'll find a way to live happily just like you asked me to, I promise."
Determined once again to survive, Ophelia crossed her heart from that moment that she would live happily. For both her parents who were gone.
By the time Vilda reached her, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, and a bruise had formed on her wrists.
The worried maid wanted to question her again but decided against it. While the guards reminded the princess about the king and his guests who awaited her.
In pin-drop silence they escorted Ophelia back to the pearl chamber, where Vilda quickly groomed her face, dress and hair, while maintaining the solemn quiet.
After donning a pair of gloves to hide the darkened bruise on her wrist, the princess stepped out of her room.
"Lead me to him."
She gave the instruction, and the guards with a polite bow obeyed.
As they walked through lavish palace, one of the guards-Erwin stole a glance at the princess, instantly looking away as she caught his gaze.
Erwin wondered just what happened to her in the short time she went in and out of the chamber. He could have sworn that just moments ago she looked like a woman that was about to faint, with tears welled up in her eyes and leaves caught in her dress.
Yet now she looked like a different person, beautiful and serene, with her head held confidently.
The guard wasn't new to palace life, so he was well aware of the rumors surrounding princess Ophelia, and also the recent one, that one she would be wed to the northern duke who was three decades her senior.
Since word got out few months ago, it was clear the king intended to send her off whenever the duke arrived, without a proper ceremony or anything else for that matter.
'Such a pity,' the guard thought.
'She is the kindest and most beautiful of the three princess's."
Meanwhile a poised Ophelia also nursed her own thoughts, which ran back to the garden and the strange man that had foiled the attempt she made on her life.
The princess didn't quite remember what his face looked like, but his voice remained in her mind, and his words seemed to been etched into the corners of her heart.
He was right, and she couldn't be more thankful for their strange and brief encounter.
"Announcing Princess Ophelia Valarie Augustus."
Came the heralds booming voice, as the large oaken doors to the grand hall were pulled open.
Unlike usual, her heart wasn't racing when she stepped into the magnificent hall.
She didn't flinch when her eyes met queen Maeve's frigid gaze.
And for the first time in years, her hands didn't tremble as she approached her uncle who sat confidently on the throne.
The stranger was right, 'I have so much to live for. I'll prove it to all these wicked people. I won't die, I won't give up.'
"Princess Ophelia greets the majesties."
She curtsied deeply, a bold look on her face, one the king and a surprised Stefan didn't miss.
"It seems the princess needs to be retaught the common etiquette."
The queen said with a frown, looking her over like she'd seen something irritating.
"To keep our guests waiting in such a mann"
"Pardon me, your majesty," Ophelia cut her off unceremoniously.
"I was simply held back by something,"
Looking straight at Stefan, she added
"Revolting. So please forgive the delay."
Ophelia's behavior was unexpected, and by the time the queen recovered from the initial surprise, the princess was already greeting her cousins and other high aristocrats who responded coldly to her.
Queen Maeve wanted to scold her, but decided to hold back, not wanting to loose face in the presence of the northern guests.
Rising from his seat, the king approached Ophelia. She had grown accustomed to looking at her feet whenever he did, but this time however, she had her eyes fixed on his pale blue ones and only curtsied when he stopped in front of her, his arm raised in an inviting manner.
'This is it.' Ophelia thought. 'Now he gives me away to my intended.'
Taking the king's outstretched hand, she allowed herself to be guided towards the northern envoy who stood amongst the richly dressed courtiers.
This was the tradition, and it was an old one. A lady who was to be wed, especially in the cases of political marriages or betrothals, would be guided by her father to her future husband, and then her hand would be given to him.
In this case it was her late father's brother who would give her away.
To king Jonas she was nothing other than a pawn, one that would finally be useful, and he couldn't wait to be done with it.
Ophelia's heart started racing again as they neared the northerners in the spacious hall, her breathing visible intensified and she clenched her fingers as the formerly hidden anxiety slowly resurfaced.
"Lord Colin,"
the king called, smiling amiable as he stopped before an old man whom Ophelia assumed to be the Duke.
The princess instantly paled.
Stefan had said the duke was as old as his father.
Well he was wrong, the man in front of her was far older than the king, old enough to be her grandfather even, and Ophelia shuddered to think the age worn man would be her husband.
"It's been a long time dear friend,"
King Jonas stated cheerfully, but his words were dry.
"Indeed your majesty. Indeed."
Came the old man's response. He turned to the princess, who wore a serene smile and stood elegantly by her uncle's side.
Ophelia was a picture of grace and poise, her emotions could not be discerned from her countenance as she looked like a beautiful doll.
But on the inside, she burned like an inferno. Her once soothed worries returned in heaps.
"And might this be our bride?" Asked the old lord.
"Indeed. This is my darling niece, princess Ophelia." king Jonas announced brandishing her like a luxurious item.
As he said this, the small silver of hope she'd been clinging to dissapeared right from under her feet. She could feel as her world and her recently discovered courage fell apart.
'He's so old. He's so old.'
Her vision grew blurry and while she could still hear them speaking, only wisps of their conversation reached her throbbing ears.
Everything grew even more distant as she tried to move, breathing became difficult and she felt her fingers slip from her uncle's hands.
"Princess!"
Vilda's familiar voice reached her, that's when she realized she was falling.
"You're just full of surprises aren't you."
Came the voice of the stranger.
"I seem to have saved you twice in one day your highness."
He said, staring down at her with piercing steel blue eyes.
"You!"