The King's ultimatum 1
The heavy oak doors of the King's private chamber creaked as they swung open, unveiling a room dimly lit and adorned with lavish tapestries, infused with the faint scent of aged parchment. Jane's heart raced as she stepped inside, her eyes immediately drawn to the commanding figure of the King. He stood by a magnificent fireplace, his silhouette stark against the flickering flames.
"Jane Woods," the King's voice resonated powerfully in the space, blending authority with an undercurrent of urgency. "I've called you here for a matter of great importance."
With a deep curtsy, Jane allowed her long black braid to spill over her shoulder. "Your Majesty," she responded softly, a slight tremor in her voice.
The King turned toward her, his gaze sharp and intense. "I've been watching your interactions with my son," he remarked, his tone steady. "Your compassion and dedication have not gone unnoticed."
A glimmer of hope sparked in Jane's chest, but it faded quickly as the King continued.
"However, time is not on our side. The kingdom is growing restless, and I'm concerned about the stability of our realm." His voice took on an urgent edge. "I need you to do more, Jane. You have three days to awaken Prince Dubois."
Jane's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. Three days? The weight of his request felt overwhelming. "Your Majesty, I... I don't understand. How am I supposed to—"
"By any means necessary," the King interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "You've formed a bond with my son that no one else has achieved. You must find a way to bring him back."
Jane felt a whirlwind of thoughts, caught between wanting to help and the heavy pressure of the King's expectations. She pictured Prince Dubois lying there, still and silent, recalling tales of his kindness and bravery. Could she truly be the one to save him?
"Your Majesty," Jane murmured, "I will do everything in my power to bring Prince Dubois back. But I can't guarantee—"
"You must," the King urged, a crack in his composure revealing the desperate father underneath. "The future of our kingdom, and my son, depends on you, Jane Woods."
For a moment, Jane closed her eyes, drawing upon the inner strength she had forged through years of hardship. When she opened them again, she felt a quiet determination welling up inside her. "I understand, Your Majesty. I'll find a way to reach Prince Dubois and bring him back to you."
The King nodded, a flicker of hope lighting up his expression. "Then go, and may the gods guide you. Remember, Jane – you have three days."
As Jane exited the chamber, the weight of her task loomed large in her mind. How could she possibly awaken a prince in just three days? But the image of Dubois' still form and the urgency in the King's eyes ignited a new resolve within her.
"I will find a way," she whispered to herself, her hands clenched into determined fists at her sides. "I must."
Strolling through the vast palace library, her fingers brushed against the portraits that lined the walls, each revealing aspects of Prince Dubois' life she had yet to explore. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows over the painted faces, each one holding pieces of the comatose prince's story.
She paused before a particularly vivid portrait, her breath catching in her throat. The artist had captured a moment of pure joy—Dubois on a magnificent horse, his head thrown back in laughter. The sparkle in his painted eyes radiated warmth and life.
"Who were you, truly?" she whispered, tracing her fingers over the canvas gently.
A voice drew her from her reverie. "He was always happiest on horseback," an elderly librarian said as he shuffled closer. "The young prince had a special bond with animals."
Jane turned to him, a small smile forming on her lips. "Did you know him well?"
The old man's eyes twinkled with fond memories. "As well as any servant can know their future king. He was kind, always asking about our families. But there was an uncontainable spirit in him, a yearning for adventures beyond these gilded walls."
Jane's gaze returned to the portrait, seeing it with fresh eyes. "I can relate to that feeling," she said softly, memories of her own mundane life on the farm flooding back.
"Perhaps that's why you're here," the librarian suggested. "To bridge the gap between his world and your own."
Her heart pounded at the implications. Could it really be that simple? She thanked the old man and rushed out of the library, inspiration igniting within her.
In Dubois' chambers, Jane sank into a luxurious armchair, a leather-bound journal resting in her lap. The elegant script flowed across the pages, and as she read by the soft glow of the candlelight, it felt like she was uncovering the very essence of the man.
"Today, I stood atop the eastern tower," she read aloud, her voice barely a whisper. "I could see for miles – rolling hills, dense forests, winding rivers. How I long to explore it all, to feel the earth beneath my feet and breathe air free from court intrigue."
Her heart tightened with a familiar longing. How many times had she stared longingly beyond the confines of her life?
Turning the page, one passage made her pause:
"Sometimes I fear that the weight of the crown will crush the very spirit it's meant to uplift. But then I think of our people – their hopes, their struggles. If I can improve their lives even a little, maybe sacrificing my own dreams will be worthwhile."
"Oh, Dubois," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "You understood, didn't you? The struggle between duty and desire?"
Holding the journal close to her heart, she gazed at the prince's still form. For the first time since arriving at the palace, she felt a genuine connection forming—not to a fairy-tale prince, but to a young man grappling with the same yearnings that had shaped her existence.
"I think I'm starting to see who you are," Jane said gently, positioning herself beside him. She took his hand, amazed at the warmth that radiated from it despite his unnatural slumber. "I promise you, Dubois, I will find a way to wake you. Not just for the kingdom, but for you—for all the adventures that await you, the dreams yet to be realized."
As the candlelight dimmed, Jane stayed by Dubois' side, her mind buzzing with possibilities. The seed of an idea had taken root, nurtured by her readings in his journal and the glimpses of his essence captured in art. With renewed determination, she squeezed his hand gently.
"Tomorrow," she whispered, "we begin our greatest adventure yet."
Leaning closer to a palace maid, Jane whispered, "Tell me, Marta, what was Prince Dubois like? Before… well, you know."
Marta's eyes sparkled as a warm smile crossed her weathered face. "Oh, miss, he was a true ray of sunshine. Always had something kind to say for everyone, from the highest lord to the lowest kitchen boy."
Encouraged, Jane gestured for her to go on as the sounds of the bustling kitchen faded into the background, her focus solely on Marta's stories.
"I recall one instance," Marta said, her hands deftly kneading dough, "when a young stable boy got into trouble, knocking over a whole line of saddles. The Master of Horse was furious and about to dismiss the lad on the spot, but Prince Dubois stepped in. He took the blame, claiming he'd startled the boy's horse."
"He lied to protect a servant?" Jane's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.
Marta chuckled. "Not a lie, truly—just a bit of... creative truth. That was our prince – always finding a way to stand up for people, even if it meant bending the rules a little."
Jane felt a swell of admiration. "He had a real gift for diplomacy, even in the little things."
"Aye, he did," grumbled a man clad in royal guard livery who had approached. "I remember during the drought two summers ago. The prince insisted on rationing the palace stores just like the common folk. He said that if his people went hungry, he couldn't enjoy his meals in peace."
Jane's mind swirled with thoughts, stitching together these anecdotes with the passionate words from Dubois' journal. "He genuinely cared for his people, didn't he?" she pondered aloud.
"Cared? Miss, that boy loved this kingdom with every fiber of his being. For him, it wasn't just duty; it was his calling."
Just as Jane was about to ask another question, a chill ran down her spine. She turned to see Thalia lingering in the doorway of the kitchen, her dark eyes glinting with a calculating look.
Thalia's lips curled into a cold smile as she locked gazes with Jane. Without a word, she turned and swept away, the rustle of her silk garments echoing ominously.
An uneasy knot tightened in Jane's stomach. "I should go," she said to Marta and the guard. "Thank you both. You've given me much to think about."
As she hurried from the kitchen, her thoughts spun. The prince she was getting to know through these stories was so much more complex than she had ever imagined. Yet Thalia's predatory gaze remained, a stark reminder of the challenges that lay ahead.
"I have to succeed," Jane whispered to herself, fists clenched with determination. "For Dubois, for the kingdom... and for the chance to truly understand the man behind these tales."