Queen Rheyna's death was a gruesome one.
It was during breakfast, the only time she had to share with her darling ten year old daughter, it had been nearly a year after the kings passing.
Despite the loss of her husband and seat, the deposed queen did not spare any expense in rallying members of nobility to her.
Rheyna desired to seat her daughter, Nicolans surviving heir on the throne of Duslan, a seat that rightly belonged to little Ophelia. And finally all her effort and hard work started paying off, everything rapidly began to fall into place.
Ophelia would become the youngest heir apparent to the throne of Duslan, an onset that left many within the court bitterly displeased.
It'd been a single slight, an overlook, a small error on the part of the ever meticulous queen.
All they would eat was repeatedly tested for poison, multiple times.
And as her victory dawned, Rheyna grew lax.
...
The rest of the day had gone by in a blur.
Like Agatha suggested, the princess retired to her chambers where she stayed till nighttime, sending away her newly appointed servants Eidel and Sabina.
As always Vilda remained by her side. Agatha the considerate ladies-maid also stayed back. She was yet to understand her new mistresses temperament, but it was clear how the lady's disposition changed earlier from excited to despondent.
Ophelia on the other hand questioned Agatha on different things. She'd crossed paths with several important attendants within the castle and wanted to learn about them, and the woman didn't spare any details in her responses.
By nighttime Ophelia had learned about the castle master; Lord Sitric, three of chief maids and the vice castle masters that worked together maintaining the Chamlan castle itself under their masters authority.
She was tired.
After a small dinner within her chambers, followed by a long bath, the princess reclined on a seat by her dressing table while Vilda gently ran a comb through her long black hair.
Lady Agatha had retired for the night, and two women were left in each other's company.
The faint flicker of candlelight cast shadows on the walls of her chamber. She sat at the vanity, her reflection gazing back at her from the mirror.
"You haven't said a word all evening. Should I be worried?"
Vilda who was lost in her own thoughts, snapped back to the present, locking eyes with the princess who'd been studying her through the polished mirror.
"Don't mind me Princess. I'm alright."
The maid smiled tenderly, trying to mask the thoughts that troubled her.
"Do I have to pry the words from you."
Ophelia asked with a fond look on her face.
Despite being two years older than her, the princess always considered the far more free-spirited maid to be like a younger sister.
One whom she loved a great deal.
"What is it?"
She turned to face Vilda, taking away the fanciful wooden comb from her hands.
The handmaid laughed, squeezing the princesses warm hands.
"There is nothing wrong with being quiet once in a while your highness. Did I not say that I would turn a new leaf."
She teased, earning a very unladylike scoff from Ophelia.
"When rats fly maybe."
"How crude. Who taught you such words! Oh it must be Erwin, I'll have to speak with that rock headed guard, he'll --."
"That's the Vilda I know."
Ophelia stated, catching her offguard amidst her ramblings.
"Talkative and overprotective, sometimes annoying."
She teased.
"Princess!"
"I jest Vilda." She laughed, the sound stretching across the large room.
"Now tell me, what is the matter?"
Vilda sighed again.
"I only worry for you Princess. I want you to continue to be happy...and respected, just like today."
She confessed, creases lining her usually smooth forehead.
"Chamlan-No the residents of the castle are far kinder than we imagined, and the duke seems genuinely sincere. I believe we can be happy here Vilda."
Said Ophelia, her words conveying hope.
"But what if your marriage!--What will happen if the young duke is not AS kind as everyone else? What if he is not a good husband. The thought troubles me."
"Then we will do what we can. I am free Vilda, for the first time in our lives we are not held back by the shackles of the palace. It is reason to celebrate, so cast your worries aside."
Ophelia remained confident in the words she spoke, even if things did not go as intended, she would not allow them to live like they did in the capital.
Vilda's response was cut off by a sudden yet firm knock, which surprised both women.
There were guards stationed at the corridors, this meant that the person who had come knocking at such an hour was someone very qualified to do so.
It was unlike the imperial palace, where anyone could barge into her quarters at any time.
Ophelia returned to her initial position before the vanity and Vilda resumed twisting her hair into a single braid.
"You can come in Lady Agatha."
She announced, thinking of how Agatha seemed to be an extremely thorough person.
Despite having relieved the lady-in-waiting of her duties for the day, this was the second time she'd returned to check on her.
"I am not Agatha."
The familiar voice broke through her thoughts as the door opened, revealing the face of the last person Ophelia thought she would see that day.
Her husband entered the chamber, his striking presence commanded every bit of their attention.
The room was filled with a sudden air of tension, one that made an already worried Vilda even more uncomfortable.
"What brings you here, my lord?"
Ophelia finally asked, her voice nearly betraying her.
"You're relieved."
Claude instructed.
Vilda turned to her mistress, worry etched on her face, Ophelia smiled at her hinting that it was alright for the maid to leave. Obediently she withdrew, closing the door behind her.
"What brings you here?"
The princess asked a second time, watching the man like an unwelcome guest that he was, rather than the person she was married to, the same one who'd clearly stated how he had no intention of considering her his real wife.
"I came to see you. How are you feeling."
His voice was low as he spoke.
His eyes seemed to shine a bit faintly, with his amber hair falling about his face in slight disarray, it looked glossy and slightly wet, it mustn't have been long since he had a bath.
Ophelia wondered if his unanticipated visit would be her final surprise for the evening, how interesting it would be if something else happened. But schooling her thoughts, she responded;
"Did you come of your own volition, or has your father also compelled you to see me."
She questioned, folding her arms in a guarded manner.
The many candles continued to flicker and burn, the flames that settled on the hearth of the fireplace cackled softly, reducing small logs of wood to fiery embers.
For a brief moment Claude was at a loss on how to answer.
Before him stood the dainty woman who his father and several other residents had worried over for days, the same woman whose pale, unconscious body he'd carried through these halls and had repeatedly checked on despite his own demanding duties.
Now that he was being kind, his she looked like a snow tigers cub, one that was ready to pounce.
"I came of my own volition."
He answered.
"Really? How strange."
Said the princess, who wistfully drummed her fingers against her cheek.
"And why is that strange Princess?"
He questioned, raising a curious brow at her.
"Well for starters, I remember a certain man stating that he would not visit my chambers, or associate with me unnecessarily."
"Is that what this is about?"
"Goodness me! Of course not."
Came her sarcastic and unyielding response.
Claude tsked disapprovingly, the sound escaping as a short, exasperated click of his tongue.
This woman was out for his throat tonight, and he'd had too long a day to converse with her over this, especially if it would lead to an argument.
Besides one of the reasons he came here, was to make amends for his behavior that day.
But first.
"Would you like something to drink?"
He asked calmly, taking measured steps across the room towards one of the framed paintings on the wall.
"No thank you. Where are you going?"
"Are you certain, if what my father says is true then my mother had a particular taste for fine wine."
The revelation quickly dawned on the irked princess.
This was his mothers room, the chamber of the late duchess, how had she not been informed of that. She mentally face palmed.
'No wonder it's so grand.'
"But there isn't any wine here."
She said watching the man who strolled toward one of the several walled paintings. His night attire flowed with his every move. It was a robe of deep grey, which was tied firmly at the waist with a black sash and underneath he wore plain sleepwear breeches.
"There is, if you know where to look."
Casually he removed a painting from the wall, revealing a shut cabinet, lodged between stone. Claude pulled open the cabinet doors open and them stood eight small shelves of wine.
Meanwhile Ophelia watched on, a curious spectator with her anger slowly waning.
"Take a seat princess, I'll be joining you in a moment."
She wanted to remain angry at him, for the rudeness he'd showed during their time alone, but at this point it didn't seem necessary or important.
Besides Ophelia was well aware of all he'd done in the previous days, but her grudge was well past it's ripe age and it now seemed petty.
She took a breath then headed for the center of the room, where three cushioned chaises and a large intricate low table sat. Choosing a preference she plopped down and made herself comfortable.
A peek back revealed an immersed Claude who meticulously glanced at several bottles. He didn't rush but took his time, looking through all eight shelves.
It was clear he enjoyed this, but the princess could also tell how he seemed distracted from his slights and movements of his hands.
"Anything that is not bitter is fine."
She stated drawing his attention.
"I thought you did not wish to drink,"
Came his smug response.
Ophelia could have sworn that she saw him smirk as he glanced back, and there she was feeling guilty for holding a grudge against him.
Resisting the urge to say something back, she answered.
"I did not, but that won't stop you from offering, will it? Since you are a stubborn man."
She couldn't resist.
"Back then I was rude, today I am stubborn."
Finally making a pick, he retrieved a particularly delicate bottle from the shelf then approached her.
"I do not see why you can't be both."
"I feel like I have already been judged and executed by your conscience, if you have any that is."
He added the last bit to annoy her as he poured a small amount of the reddish black wine into one of the empty glass goblets on the table, then handed it to her.
"What I have, is no interest to entertain this conversation with you. Please leave if you're done speaking,"
She said as she retrieved the glass from him, smiling far too sweetly, her eyes seemed to light up with as much fervour as the large candles did.
"Oh and thank you for the wine."
He watched impassively as Ophelia took a sip, then sat down and right that moment her expression turned sour.
Claude's lips pulled in a smile, his entire face lighting up with mischief, he was all too pleased as he watched her gulp down what she drank.
"I told you I do not want something bitter. WHAT was that?"
Asked the princess who did not look impressed with his antics.
"Something that you did not want, and you can add villainous to the list of names you already have for me."
Came his confident response as he watched her.
"I prefer that one to the others."