The ballroom was filled with anticipation, a tension that hung in the air like a breath held too long. The staff guided the bridal candidates into a neat line, each woman moving anxiously but gracefully. The sound of rustling dresses and the clicking of heels against the polished wood floors, drowned the soft whispers of voices around them once in line.
Queen Amrietta descended from her throne on the stage with her ever-present lady-in-waiting, Agnes, whose face was unreadable. The women before her stood like statues, rigid with uncertainty, their eyes flickering nervously under the queen's watchful gaze.
The queen began her speech for the candidates,
" As you are all aware,"
" The royal bloodline has long been revered for its beauty, a legacy passed down through generations.
She continued, her words dripping with the weight of history,
" But beauty alone is not enough. We are not mere vessels of elegance. The royal bloodline shares the rare and coveted gift of foresight."
Her words seemed to linger in the air, weighing down on the candidate's shoulder like an invisible weight that settled over the room. Agnes stepped forward, offering the queen her whipping rod, a slender tool of both discipline and authority. The queen continued, her gaze cold and precise,
"For our first phase,"
"Any imperfection, no matter how small, will not be tolerated. A stray lock of hair, a faltering gaze, a wavering posture—each will be met with dismissal.
And those who fail in the most critical of ways, who fail to see with clarity, will have no place to taint our power."
"For a queen who carries a true heir, lays the very foundation of a nation's strength."
With those final words, the line of women stood frozen, as though the weight of her speech had robbed them of breath. Queen Amrietta moved along the line, her sharp eyes sweeping each woman's silhouette, appraising every bone in their body. With the flick of her rod, she began her critique—delivering her judgment,
"Not her. Too short. Begone."
"Oh, how unsightly you are. Dismissed."
"Narrow hips… not suitable for child bearing. Out."
"Glasses?...We cannot have a queen who blurs the royal gift of foresight. Dismissed."
One by one, the women were cast aside, like fading stars vanishing into the cold night sky. The candidates, once hopeful, were now crushed under the harsh words of a queen who not only judged their appearance, but tore at their very being.
At last, the queen came to Duchess Eleanor. A smile tugged at the queen's lips as she scanned Eleanor's form, nodding in approval. She had expected nothing less from the Quindoors. The queen's tone slightly lifted as she spoke,
" Eleanor, is it?"
" Yes, Your Majesty,"
" I see your mother has raised you well."
"Thank you, your majesty"
Eleanor curtseyed, showing the queen the utmost respect. The whispers among the remaining candidates were quick and soft. They knew, deep within themselves, that Eleanor would be accepted. It was inevitable. The queen's favor was already upon her.
The queen continued to flow down the line, her eyes narrowed as they fell upon Guinevere, Duchess of the North. She scanned the duchess from head to toe, stopping at her cane. With the tip of her rod, she flicked dismissively at the duchess's cane, and a deep disapproval radiated from her, sharper than the tap of the rod itself.
"Needless to say… Duchess"
" You are dismissed."
.
.
" Yes, Your Majesty."
Without another word, Duchess Guinevere bowed, her dignity intact, and stepped out of the line, leaving the room with a quiet grace. Behind her, Eleanor smiled faintly, her fan fluttering slightly as she stifled her amusement at the duchess's quiet exit.
What had begun as a simple selection had turned into a bloodbath—an unraveling of hopes and a ruthless culling. As the candidates were led away, their faces pale with shock, their carriages called to carry them far from the palace, the air seemed to grow heavier with each departure.
Up in his secluded hideout, Duke Louis sat silently by the window, his dark, black like midnight hair blowing softly in the breeze. His golden eyes, usually so calm, were fixed on the women being escorted out, each one failing the queen's selection.
Kravis, the palace butler, knocked gently on the door, breaking the silence.
"Sire," he called. "What are you doing up here still?"
Louis turned, his gaze meeting the butler's eyes. He sighed as he picked up his book,
"I was reading, Kravis"
"But I couldn't help but notice… the women who've failed. Their sobs are too loud to ignore."
Below near the palace entrance, the sound of weeping women echoed as Louis continues,
" They should consider it a blessing,"
" At least they're spared from the queen's cruelty."
Kravis hesitated, then asked, his voice cautious,
" Surely, you still don't believe the queen had a hand in your mother's death?"
Louis's expression darkened, his golden eyes flashing with barely controlled fury.
"I know what I saw, Kravis," he snapped.
The memory of his mother's death haunted him, a wound that had never healed. He was just a child when she died, but was too young for anyone to listen to his claims and too powerless to do anything about it. The queen's shadow took over his memory like a dark cloud.
As the last of the women exited the ballroom, Louis returned to his book, flipping through its worn-out pages without truly reading. Kravis says
" Perhaps, sire you will find a suitable bride despite the odds, "
Louis still, with his head in his book.
"I don't care. None of them will be—."
A woman's screaming cries alarmed the palace
"Please, your highness! I can be a great queen!
"Please (sobs) choose me!!"
"I'll even love Duke Louis if I have to!!"
With his words interrupted by the wailing candidate, the duke lost his concentration. He closed the book with a quiet snap and stood, restless. His face flushed with embarrassment after receiving his first love confession, he muttered, heading for the door,
"It's too noisy up here Kravis. I'm going for a walk."
Kravis smiled and chuckled softly as he followed Louis,
"Perhaps the ballroom? Queen Amrietta's 'selection' might be quieter now."
Louis smiled, but couldn't be bothered with Kravis's humor.
"Very funny, Kravis. Very funny."
Louis didn't want to entertain Queen Amrietta. The queen's ambition was clear—her eyes were fixed on controlling the throne, and the king's ear had long been hers to whisper in. Her plans to place Duke Henry on the throne were already well underway.
.
.
.
Back at the ballroom, the queen's cruel assessment continued, her tone became lighter as her words became half-hearted. The baronesses that stood in front of Queen Amrietta, were nothing more than pawns in her game for Duke Louis. To them, the queen showed a gentler hand, but it was clear—she did not seek a daughter-in-law. She sought a puppet, someone to bend to her will.
" She's pretty… for a baroness. Pass"
" Ehh.. She'll do. Pass."
" Cerulia, was it?"
Cecilia bowed to Queen Amrietta as she softly spoke
"Cecilia, your majesty"
"Ah sure.. Cerealia will do Agnes. Pass."
Agnes marked down all the candidates names that passed the first phase of selection. The queen continued down but then, the queen's gaze stopped at Emerie. Rough around the edges but still exudes beauty. The queen asked Agnes,
"And this is who Agnes?"
"Emerie Casseroff, your majesty". Agnes leaned in, whispering
The queen shocked by Emerie's demeanor,
" Casseroff? I've never heard of them before. Are they new Agnes?"
" No, your majesty."
" They have been baron status for 3 generations now. Currently the lowest ranked baron in the South Dukedom."
" The south? In the Quindoor's dukedom?"
" Yes, your majesty."
" I see.."
The queen smiled to herself, her mind already turning. Emerie would be an excellent tool to use. for her future plans. But as Emerie received the queen's favor, the other candidates felt the sting of envy burn deep.
The queen's gambit had only just begun.