Courtly Dinners (Part I)

Annabelle

Annabelle exhaled as the servant behind her pulled the corset tighter. She normally wore much looser gowns, but her father had said this meeting was important. She wasn't sure what was so pressing that she needed to suffocate. Michael sent her a message that morning that said something about him handling the dinner tonight. Annabelle's father hadn't informed her of it until an hour before. He'd probably thought she was trying to run away or something. Her father had been furious when Michael had announced that they would not be getting engaged. It was probably some desperate attempt of her father's to put her on the throne.

The servant behind her was one of her mother's. Annabelle wanted to scowl. Her father knew that her servants were more loyal to Annabelle than they were her father. He'd done this on purpose. She hoped she'd get the girls back after this evening.

Annabelle resisted the urge to squawk in pain as the servant yanked on a strand of hair, pulling it into a massive updo. Annabelle looked in the mirror. She looked just like her mother, the cold indifference and aloofness included. She hated her reflection. Her parents weren't anything like the fairytale stories. They weren't kind and loving. They were strong, that was for sure. Her father was a fierce warrior. He'd felled countless soldiers in the battle to unite the continents and banish the villains. He'd single-handedly wounded Audenzitios badly enough that she'd disappeared to go heal herself somewhere else or something when he was rescuing her mother. But as a father, he was no better than a jailer.

"Watch it!" Annabelle snapped as the servant yanked on her hair again. "You don't have to rip the hair from my scalp to put it up."

"Watch your tone, that is no way for a lady to act." Annabelle's mother reprimanded sharply as she came into the room. "You are going to sit quietly and attentively while your father and grandfather talk with the king and the prince, understand? Not a word from that viper's tongue of yours." She turned to the sour-faced servant, "Helen, you're dismissed."

Annabelle huffed, biting back a retort. "Why must I go if I'm to sit silently? Why not put a doll in my place instead?" Annabelle tried not to pick at her fingernail polish. "I just got out of the hospital and now you're shoving me back into high heels and a corset. Can I not get a break, mom?"

"You've had a break Annabelle. Now it's time to come back to the real world." She adjusted a ribbon on Annabelle's dress as she stood. "Come now, you're to enter the dining room with your father and I."

Annabelle tried not to pout like a child as she was escorted to the palace where her father was waiting. He kissed her mother on the cheek. "You look radiant, Rosa. Ready Annabelle?"

"Do I have a choice?" she snapped, sending a scowl in her father's direction.

"Annabelle, if you don't behave in this meeting I will not hesitate to punish you." He said, a note of irritation in his tone. Annabelle wanted to smirk. She rarely got him riled up. He must be nervous about the meeting.

"What will you do, take my phone?" She mocked.

"Young lady, so help me I will unenroll you from the school and lock you in the castle until the day you are to be married." He growled.

The words hit Annabelle so hard, that her frown and angry mood disappeared, replaced with shock, and devastation. "You'll lock me up, just like mother was?"

"One more word and I will not let you return to class tomorrow." Her father barked at her. "You will sit down. You will be quiet. You will not say a single word unless someone asks and you will not put your backwards opinions out at the dinner table. Do you understand me?" His voice was like thunder. Something inside of her quivered at the voice. He couldn't take her from the school. All of her friends were there. She was on the cheer squad, and she was taking music lessons. "Do you understand me?" Her father demanded again, stepping closer, towering over her.

"Yes father," she said quietly, her hands shaking.

Her father straightened his jacket, taking his wife's arm. She looked over her shoulder at Annabelle with a frown. "Your grandfather is inside and if he gets wind of your insolence he'll be much harsher than your father.

Before Annabelle could process the threats and the emotions, the doors were pushed open, and the three of them entered, a perfect royal family portrait.

Annabelle found her seat, diagonal from prince Michael. Even though they didn't want to marry each other, the small smile he sent her made something inside of her ease a tiny bit. There was at least one person with a voice at this table who was on her side. She couldn't muster up a smile back. Immediately he picked up on the fact that something was wrong. He mouthed 'Later ok?' It was what made him a good friend.

She scanned the long table. The King was at the head, his wife at his left and Michael at his right. Annabelle was seated beside her grandfather who sat to the queen's left. She was across from her own father. Equal honor. She knew that her father would always resent her a little bit for the fact that she would have a shot at the throne. He didn't even have a dukedom yet. He was there out of courtesy. Her grandfather had the real say about her marriage.

Down further, she spotted Duke Mattuckle, his wife and his son Sean. He met her stare and he grinned. She wanted to scowl, but instead she rolled her shoulder back and looked elsewhere, dismissing him. Guys like him needed to be acknowledged and she didn't bother. It would be the easiest way to irritate him. Still, it irritated her that he was here. It should have been the king's family and hers. But Duke Mattuckle's family was here as well.

She didn't want Sean to be here to see her bartered over like a prized cow. She wasn't sure why he was here, but she sure as hell didn't want him to watch. He was horrible to her. Ever since they were little she'd felt uneasy about him. Growing up around him only made her more wary.

The King called their attention and thanked them for joining him. Annabelle did her best to keep her face pleasant. She'd have to be silent through five courses of a meal and listen to idle chatter among the nobles. Then she'd need to listen for longer as they debated her future and what she was to go while she sat back and watched helplessly. She knew Prince Michael would do his best to stand up for her, but she'd also read the papers and listened to the chatter from the servants and nobles alike. Michael wasn't matching up to the ideal they had for the young king. He'd never been so disliked as he was now despite calming himself and skipping parties and other fun things his peers did.

The dishes were served, and Annabelle sighed as she looked at the bowl of soup in front of her. She hated dinners because it also made her eat things that weren't in her diet routine. She liked to exercise and eat certain foods to stay in peak shape. It made her happy.

Reluctantly, Annabelle ate a little from each course, letting her father and grandfather answer the questions that were directed at her. She made sure to sit straight and to keep her shoulders back. To look like a perfect lady. She only had one job, to quiet while the other nobles dealt with their many duties. But for some reason Annabelle felt that being silent was harder than all of the other jobs the nobles had.

Too fast, the dinner passed by, her father retelling the story of how he saved her mother. It was his only claim to fame. He was technically Sir Hagravand, having been knighted by his father. He always claimed that the enchantress should have died.

"While this is riveting," the king interrupted with a wave of his hand, "I think it's time we get to the real reason for our meeting."

"Of course," Annabelle's grandfather smiled, placing a hand on Annabelle's. She wanted to yank it away. "I was quite surprised to hear of the young prince's decision not to marry. As you know, it was quite a negative shock."

The king nodded slowly. "Yes my son and I did have a conversation about that," the king mused. "We have decided that he must be married to ascend the throne. If he's not married, the next in line will ascend the throne." He gestured to Sean.

Annabelle watched as Michael's face heated almost imperceptibly. Sean was doing his best to hide a smug grin. Both boys were looking at the tablecloth, trying not to appear too interested in what was being spoken.

Duke Hagravand cleared his throat before he spoke. "I assume you want your son to ascend the throne after you, so in turn, you need him to be engaged to a young woman with courtly training." Annabelle's grandfather squeezed her hand gently. She fought a scowl.

"Of course, Duke," Prince Michael began, "but are we sure that's what Annabelle—"

"Prince, with all respect, do not assume to speak for my granddaughter. Are you sure that marrying is what you want? Would not a good king lay down his own interests for the best of the kingdom? A king needs his queen and you should know that better than anyone." Duke Hagravand said firmly, looking Michael directly in the eye.

Annabelle clasped her hands together, squeezing so hard her hands turned white. She didn't have the heart to look at Michael. She wanted to shout at her grandfather. She didn't want this. Michael was speaking for her because she could not. If she spoke up, her father would lock her up. And who knew what her grandfather would do? She could feel a pressure rising in her chest. Breathe. She commanded herself. In your nose, out of your nose. Her ears were ringing. Not now, not now.

She could feel the panic rising faster than she could push it down. She grabbed the hem of her mother's sleeve beside her, eyes wide. She could feel her breath coming in short pants. She couldn't get air into her lungs fast enough.

Her mother pursed her lips, but noticed the stares in their direction. "Excuse us a moment, majesty."

The King nodded his head, giving Annabelle enough time to dash out the door with her mother before she collapsed against the wall, tears pouring down her face. She couldn't breathe. Annabelle's mind raced. Her vision spotted. She felt like she was going to vomit. She rested the side of her face against the cool stone of the wall, her breaths intermittent with sobs.

"I'm sorry mom," she choked out, "I just can't sit there."

She didn't open her eyes to look at her mother. She focused on the cool darkness beneath her eyelids, the way the chill of the wall seeped into her hot cheeks. She shuddered, trying to calm herself. Breathing in through her nose, and out her mouth, she opened her eyes, taking in the details of the hallway, trying to ground herself. Big green potted fern. Ugly maroon tapestry. Big oak doors, stone walls, marble floors. She pressed a hand against the white and gray floor, savoring the sturdiness of it.

"Are you still having panic attacks?" There was a surprising lack of judgement in her mother's voice. Annabelle looked up from where she was crumpled on the floor and nodded sullenly. She went back to studying her nail polish. It matched the stuffy blue and silver dress she'd been shoved into.

"Mom, what will the people think if they know their queen has such bad anxiety, she can't sit through a single dinner? What will they think if their queen can't go a month without being hospitalized for fear of hurting or killing herself mom? Does that sound like a good queen to you, mother?" Annabelle stood, bracing herself with a hand on the wall. She felt a head rush, and her sight blacked out for a second, but she forced herself to stay standing. To look her mom directly in her eyes. "Does it?"

Her mother sighed, her brown pinching, "I know how you want me to answer, Annabelle, but look at your peers! Not one of them could handle the throne at such a young age. Just… just make a deal with me."

Annabelle tilted her head, hinting to her mother to continue.

"If your father and I can get you help, be it therapy or medications or whatever, will you consider the arranged marriage if they help?"

Annabelle wasn't sure how she felt about it, but if her mother promised to finally help her… "It's a deal."