Brief recap: When young, Prince George grew up his twin sister Juliana and best friend and ward to his father, Sebastian. One day Juliana was taken and killed by the witch covens, starting a long standing war.
Once grown, George too was taken by the witches. For reasons unknown, they turned George into a woman before he was rescued and the witches killed.
Now back home he is learning the life of a princess under his new name Georgiana, posing as his long lost sister. Sebastian has left to cope with the grief of losing his friend, meanwhile George is told he has months to marry and continue the royal line.
But to his horror, he is assaulted by another Prince a the second of three balls. Will he ever be able to get used to this new life? And with only one ball left before the deadline of his 28th birthday, who will he chose to wed?
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The next morning he awoke to Martha gently stirring him from where he slept still crouched over the desk. With one look at his face, she gently guided him to bed.
"Come on sweetheart, ya clearly ain't well. Let's get you some rest," she said. Before she even left the room, he had fallen asleep again in the soft cushions of the bed.
He awoke again a few hours later to Martha bringing in a tray of breakfast. She spoke merrily to him, but he didn't have the strength to respond. Once he had eaten she took the tray and sighed.
"Ya mother asked me to let her know once you had eaten. She wants to come to see ya."
"Oh," he said, his voice small and weak. He nodded, Martha understanding the meaning with a small sad smile.
She bustled from the room, and a few minutes later the door was opening. His mother looked at him in bed for a moment, before walking to him without a word and wrapping her arms around him tightly.
At first he was surprised, then he felt the hot stinging tears well up again in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said, kissing his hair. "I'm sorry my darling."
"He hurt me," he whispered.
"I know," she said softly. "He won't be coming here again. I'm sorry I got angry at you. I know that you were just upset, but Royal women don't- can't do what you did last night."
"Even though I was defending myself?"
She sighed, "I'm glad you got him off you. But next time, you need to not put yourself in a position that you're open to that sort of advance. Don't sit in a dark courtyard on your own."
"So it's my fault?" He said bitterly, pulling away from her.
She smiled sadly. "No. But this is the sort of thing women have to think about."
He didn't say anything, which his mother took to be acceptance.
"Come. Let's get out of bed. What would you say to a ride around the grounds?"
He looked out the window at the sunshine creeping through, the wide blue sky. He nodded.
"Yeah, I'd like that. Thank you Mother."
"Of course my sweetheart. I love you, you know that?"
"Yes mother," he said and she walked from the room.
He sighed and stepped out from the bed and walked towards the wardrobe. As he did he passed the desk and glanced at the quill left out of its pot, dripping on the tabletop, and papers that were disheveled and disordered. He remembered suddenly writing the letter to Sebastian, and scanned the floor for it. But it wasn't there. He ducked looking under the table, and under the bed. Nothing.
Martha entered and he jumped up, turning to her.
"You alright Princess?"
"Yes. Um- Martha?" He asked absently, still scanning the room for the letter. "Did you see a letter on the floor this morning?"
"Aye I did," she said, opening the wardrobe door and flicking through the outfits inside. "You'll need your riding trousers," she said almost to herself.
"Good! So... where is the letter?" He asked, trying to keep his voice casual.
"Oh probably a few hours on its way by now."
"What? You- you sent it?!"
"Aye. I sent the letter with Prince Sebastian's young messenger this mornin'. These trousers are lovely what do you think?"
"Martha why did you send that letter! It wasn't meant to be sent!"
"Or maybe it was," she said, looking him in the eye for the first time. "Now. Get that slip off ye so we can get ya dressed."
*
The days passed into weeks and George heard nothing from Sebastian. He wondered if he had read the letter that he had never intended him to read. He couldn't entirely remember what he had written in his disoriented state.
The dread of his upcoming decision mixed with the aching loss of Sebastian's letters and George found himself becoming desperate. He snuck into the clock tower so often that he had read all of Sebastian's substantial collection of novels twice. But soon even that hiding place wasn't enough to satisfy his craving for escape.Finally one night, he decided enough was enough.
Silent as a ghost, he carefully slipped out of his bedroom and tiptoed down the long hallways, his wool cloak billowing around his ankles. He carefully edged around each corner, but the corridors were mercifully clear. There were guards at the front door, but he knew that the kitchen had a small back exit that was usually unmanned. As predicted, the kitchen was empty and he swept across it straight for the door. As he turned the large iron handle however, it didn't move. Locked.
Not ready to let that stop him, he searched around the door for the key. He found it tucked just at the top of the doorframe, and smiled to himself. Fate was on his side tonight.
Once the door creaked open, he slipped out and into the chilly night. As he ran quickly and quietly across the grass, he pulled his cloak around him to keep out the cold, but his smile was only growing larger by the second. His heart beat quickly and for the first time in a while he felt alive.
He headed straight towards the gatehouse and soon, the flaming torches that lit the building were visible, along with the guards on watch. How was he to slip past?
An idea came to him. It was stupid and dangerous and cruel. But it might just work. He set off at a run.
Minutes later he was at the stables, panting and breathless. He felt guilt writh in his guts, but it wasn't enough to stop his trembling fingers as he opened the gate to the first stable, then the next and the next. Some of the horses began to trot curiously out of their stables, watching him with their huge dark eyes. He continued down, all the way to Shadow who watched him from the final enclosure.
"Hey girl, I need your help," he whispered, and she whinnied softly. He led her out of the stable and tied her to a post outside, ready to make a speedy exit. Then he let all hell break lose. He began to rattle and shake everything he could reach, he began to roar and yell and as predicted the most skittish horses began to run from the stables into the grounds. It didn't take long for the other horses too to feel alarmed by his bizarre behaviour and follow them, running out into the grounds.
"Hey!"
The stable boys had awoken. He pulled up his hood and ran for Shadow.
"What-" he heard a shout from inside the stables "the horses!"
But before the stable boys could get close to him, he was on Shadow, riding far from the stable towards the gatehouse.
He guided Shadow into a copse of trees, gently stroking her mane. She huffed, clearly as annoyed and confused by his actions as the other horses had been.
"I know, I'm sorry girl, shhh it's okay," he soothed, watching as the stable boys came running up the path.
He watched as they spoke with the guard and instantly they began to separate, four guards flanking off to help round up the runaway horses. But to George's frustration, two guards remained manning the gatepost.
He sighed as he looked down at Shadow.
"I'm sorry girl, I need you to run for me. I promise I'll make it up to you."
He jumped down and then sharply pulled on her reins, slapping in her hard on the rump. She whinnied in protest and then too began to run. Almost as if she knew what he had needed, she ran straight through the gatehouse. He heard the shouts of the guards; even heard one particularly loud shout of "the prince's horse!" Before the remaining two guards rode at speed after her.
He'd have seconds at most before the attention was turned back to the gatehouse. He pulled his hood up high once again and ran. As he got to the gatehouse his heart was in his mouth, ready for a shout or a peeling bell, but nothing. Only the slap of his shoes on the cobbled path underneath the archway. He ran on, through the gatehouse and down the path, running and running without turning to look behind him.
Eventually when he had almost reached the nearest village he stopped, leaning against a small brick wall to catch his breath. He turned to look behind him, but there was no one there. No guards ran down the path behind him, just silent darkness and the gatehouse lights still twinkling in the distance. He grinned, and then felt a giddy laugh escape from him, before practically skipping down into the town.
He wandered down the streets, still fairly busy despite the late hour, and just drank it all in. The sounds, the smells, everything. It felt exhilarating to be out actually existing in the world again, he could almost convince himself that everything that had happened since he last lazily strolled these streets hadn't happened.
He saw a bar sign reading 'The Sun and Star' appear round a corner, swinging in the light breeze. It had been one of his favourite drinking haunts once, now though he wondered if he was pushing his luck. But what was the point of escaping the grounds if he didn't do something with his night. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
The bar was fairly quiet, with only a few huddles of people at various tables scattered across the room. He approached the bar and slipped onto a high stool. He kept his hood on, his face low as the barmaid approached. He glanced up at her and blinked, recognising her as the bar maid he had had sex with all those weeks ago. The last woman he had been with. Bar the witch at The Grove of course.
"What can I get you?" She said, her voice cheerful, her brilliant red curls lying gracefully across her shoulders.
"Ale, please." Not exactly the drink of a princess, but he didn't care. She poured the drink and he paid her with some of the small golden coins he had collected into the pocket of his cloak over the last few days.
The first sip was glorious. He felt himself truly smiling as he felt like himself for the first time in forever. The barmaid began cleaning glasses behind the bar, and he sat for a while enjoying his drink. It could have been a perfect night.
