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SEASON 1 EPISODE 3 → THE MAKING AT THE HEART OF THE WORLD

The Accidental Princess (Part 2)

Prince Kit x Reader

Summary: A contract has been found, after twenty years, bearing your name and Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Summary: You get settled in the palace.

Word Count: 4.5k words

Warnings: period typical misogyny, none?

A/N: Hi, guys! I'm trying my best with the taglist so if you didn't get tagged, chances are there's something wrong with the way I did it or you're un-tag-able?? Anyway, I know there are a lot of inconsistencies with this piece of fanfic but let's all just enjoy this lol. The lemon juice ink works, though. You can give that a try. I love hearing all about your thoughts! Reviews, comments, suggestions (and reblogs) are most certainly welcome! Here is Part 2 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

It was an unusual request that you asked for lemons with your writing materials but they delivered. You merely said that those were for you to bite on but truly, it was for you to write a message that only your father could decipher. He had taught you the magic of vanishing ink one night during a particularly dreary travel. He had told you that the true message written with lemon juice would only be revealed on top of an open flame. You had tried it once and you were impressed and now, it was your only means of communicating with him without the rest of the palace knowing. This stratagem had only been used for important missives and what else could be more important than for your father to know that you had been married to the prince for two decades and that you would be kept to the palace indefinitely.

You wrote carefully, telling him to keep the information to himself. You had no ambitions of being a princess and the irony of you being one—or being called an ambitious girl by the Grand Duke—was not lost on you. You kept your secret message short and concise, and you also told him no promises of future missives lest you be found out. Once you were finished with the lemon ink, you let it dry and took to writing the obvious message with ink. You scribbled in between the lines written with lemon juice your requests for your trunks, writing implements, and the many books you were supposed to be reading. The letter was short and direct and you sealed it with wax and a sprig of lavender, your unofficial insignia, so your father would immediately know that the message was from you.

When your letter had been sent, a maid arrived, bearing with her a dress for you to change into. She had been scandalized at seeing you in your undergarments, which you had assured her that they were not, and she took it upon herself to start a bath for you.

“What shall I call you, miss?” asked the maid as she scrubbed your shoulders with warm water and simple soap. You had told her that you were fine with bathing yourself but the surprise on her face made you realize that you had asked for the unusual. Of course, guests of the king were expected to be waited on hand and foot.

“Y/N, please,” you replied. “I’m all but noble so please, do not burden yourself with titles to call me. If you are uncomfortable with calling me by my name, you may continue calling me ‘miss.’”

“It is rare for the king to house a common guest, miss, if you don’t mind me saying.” said the girl.

You smiled to yourself. “I find my situation quite uncommon for a commoner like me.” You washed off the lather. “What may I call you?”

“Abigail, miss,” she replied.

You let out a little chuckle then apologized. “Oh, do forgive me, Abigail. I find your parents quite humorous for naming you such.”

Abigail chuckled as well, to your relief. “They are humorous people, miss. My brother Hunter, he is the palace gamekeeper.”

You chuckled. “Oh, dear me. Your futures are already made out for you at the day of your birth.”

“To work for the king and the kingdom is an honor, miss.”

You turned to your maid slowly, careful of the water that sloshed on the side of the tub. “I haven’t been in the kingdom for quite some time, Abigail. Would you mind telling me what has happened in the last years?”

The maid looked at you uncomfortably. You touched the hand nearest to you and smiled. “I promise I shall not tell a soul of the things you wish to tell me. I am merely curious. If I am to be housed here for a while, I would like to be knowledgeable of what has transpired within these walls.”

Abigail looked around your room, you did as well, before nodding. “The Queen Amalie has died.”

Oh. You had not known that. When she was not present at the throne room earlier the day, you only thought she must have been busy with some other affairs. It did not cross your mind that the beautiful and benevolent queen had passed on.

Poor king. Poor Kit.

“What has happened to her?” you asked.

“She had taken ill one morning in the summer and passed on the day after. The king and the prince were devastated. The whole kingdom as well.”

“When was this?” You settled back on your tub.

“Just the year before,” Abigail started washing your hair. “Since then, the king had been in poor health. He is worried for the kingdom’s future should he soon follow his wife.”

“You do not think the prince capable?” you asked. You had known princes were schooled into being future monarchs since their infancy. Perhaps the Prince Kit was otherwise engaged in other matters, in addition to running the kingdom.

“The prince is very capable, miss. However, the king has stipulated that the kingdom be ruled by a king and a queen. Prince Kit has to marry before he ascends the throne.”

Of course. It was the very reason you were called for, after all. Your presence had been a great hindrance to the future of the kingdom. With you still legally wed to the prince, he would not be able to marry the Grand Duke’s niece.

“Does he have a bride he wishes to wed?” you asked when Abigail passed a cloth for you to dry yourself with. Any woman, noble or not, would be inquisitive towards the future queen of the kingdom. Even one married to said prince. You tried to maintain an air of ignorance on the matters so they would not be suspicious of your coming over to the palace.

“The Grand Duke’s niece, miss. It is said she is a princess from Zaragoza.” The maid let out a towel for you and you stood, taking it and wrapping yourself in it.

A princess. It was now truly understandable the ire the Grand Duke had with you. Who else is a better match for the prince than a princess?

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as you remembered the blue of Kit’s eyes. He had looked over at you appreciatively, even in your disheveled state, and you had reacted in a way you had seen women did with their lovers. You knew you were flustered when you looked at him, felt the heat rise to your cheeks and made an utter fool of yourself by giving an ungraceful curtsy. You were often calm and collected, always poised unless the situation called for you not to be, and in that moment, you stumbled. All because of your husband.

Oh, dear.

You needed to stop calling him thus, even in your head. The king would have you locked in the dungeons if he ever caught you referring to the prince as your husband.

The dress Abigail had given you belonged to one of the former guests of the palace. It was a surprise the palace kept it at all; you knew they disposed of things that did not belong to the king or had them given away to a charity of some sort. But this dress, although a bit late in its design, was beautiful in its own way. Abigail had helped you don it, lacing your corset just right and as she laced the back of the dress, it was a surprise at how well it fit you. It was like it was made for you.

“Have you any knowledge of the Grand Duke?” you asked as Abigail buckled your shoes .

“Whatever do you mean, miss?” She took the other shoe and put it on your feet.

“I was not made aware of his presence only until recently. How did he come to be in our tiny kingdom?”

“He arrived as an adviser to the king, miss, about two years ago. We do not know more than that.”

“I see,” you said and smiled at your maid. “Thank you for your help today, Abigail. I hope you would not mind it if I ask you to give me a tour of the palace? I would not wish to get lost in any of the many rooms.”

“I fear I am not in the position to do so, miss.” Abigail said with a quick bob of curtsy. “Is there anything you require before I leave?”

You looked at yourself before the mirror and smiled. “No, Abigail. I thank you for your help. I shall see you again tonight.”

“Miss,” the young maid said before leaving.

You blew out a breath, walking back to the window and looked at the sea once more. The kingdom had suffered for a while, what with Queen Amalie’s passing and the king in poor health. The sudden revelation of your childish endeavours of being accidentally married to the prince would risk the already crumbling state the kingdom to come apart further. You had to help in any way you could; it was the very least you could do.

You strode out of your room, walking down the long hallway. You had a vague memory of where the library was, supposing it hadn’t been changed in the last two decades you had been in the palace. You recalled it being situated near the gardens on the east of the grand staircase, with ornate double doors of gold gilding. If you remembered correctly, portraits of the current royal family and ones of the prince should be hung on either side of it.

You walked down the hallway quietly, counting the rooms and committing to memory the doors and halls you had passed through lest you be lost when you return to your room. You went down the grand staircase, smiling politely at some footmen who opened doors for you. You stood before said ornate doors that you had remembered and once the footmen opened them, you went in.

The scent of wood and books assaulted your nose and you smiled to yourself. Your last trip abroad had been to Austria and you had asked for your father’s permission to take a little bit of an excursion to their famed Imperial Court Library. The place did not disappoint. Murals and frescoes of heavenly bodies adorned the walls and ceiling, with shelves that housed every possible volume of books you could imagine. It was a beautiful place and somehow, the palace library seemed to take that as an inspiration.

Any books on the politics of the kingdom would be a great help to you and to this predicament you put yourself in. You walked over to the section of the library that you thought housed the books on your kingdom’s laws when you did not notice that you were not alone in the room.

“I see you are getting comfortable in the palace, girl,” you heard the Grand Duke say.

You turned to the man and dropped into a curtsy, keeping your head down. “Your Grace.”

“What are you doing in the library?” he asked you in that way of his. His tone was almost always accusing and suspicious, despite meeting you only for a few minutes.

“I was hoping to get something to read, Your Grace.” You replied as you stood back to your full height.

“Anything in particular that you are looking for?” He walked over to you and looked you down through his hawk-like nose.

“Laws of this land, Your Grace,” you said honestly.

The way he chuckled grated on your skin. It was sarcastic and rude. “You are too comfortable, you ambitious girl. First, you marry the prince and now you wish to learn more about the laws of this land? What shall be next, turn us out of the palace?” He scoffed. “Find some light reading. There is a book on herbology that I find would best fit someone of your stature.”

You gave a polite smile. Like most dignitaries you had met, they often looked down on you. You found it best to let them underestimate you instead of engaging them in a fight head-on. You had the power prove them otherwise in the next opportunity. The Grand Duke needed to be surprised that you were more than what you appeared to be.

“Thank you, Grand Duke.” You replied with a quick bob. “Forgive me for intruding on your time in the library.”

You turned to the other side of the library, plucking from the shelves a book on herbs and plants in the German language, before taking two sheets of paper and a pencil.

“I shall bid you a good day, Your Grace,” you called out as you curtsied in his general direction once more. You saw him wave his hand at you dismissively and it cued you to leave the awful man alone.

In the very least, you knew where the library was located. The book about the laws of the land would have to wait. The book on herbology, however, looked interesting. You were conversant in many a language, reading this German book would not pose a problem. It would keep you occupied while you waited for your trunks to arrive.

You walked out to the gardens, smiling and greeting the footmen politely as you passed them. Most of the flowers in the garden were ornamental; you highly suspect they would own herbs in such a fancy orchard. Either way, it was a lovely day out and it seemed fitting that you read the book outside. You sat on one of the benches and opened the tome, starting off with Digitalis purpurea.

Kit saw you emerge from the doors of the palace. If he were honest with himself, he would say he was disappointed that you weren’t wearing your breeches and shirt anymore and that he couldn’t admire your shapely figure but with the dress you had now donned, there was no mistaking the contours your body. He had not had this visceral reaction to the Princess Chelina’s portrait, but then again, he had not seen her in person. You, however, he had seen you and had admired you. Perhaps, more than admired you. There was something different about you and for the life of him, he could not name what it was.

Other than, of course, you and he were bound in matrimony.

He could not find it in him to be angry with you. It was a peculiar situation you both had gotten into, the innocent intentions and legally binding contracts. You did not seem to be an opportunistic girl. He remembered your hope for a friendship with him, your eagerness in trying to copy your father’s way of sealing such relationships, and the way you were excited when you both had (unintentionally) sealed each other’s fate. It was simply laughable and not worth getting furious over, unlike his father and the Grand Duke.

“I see your father’s guest has taken your fancy, Your Royal Highness,” said his good friend, the Captain of the Guards.

Kit only grinned. “Don’t I always take fancy at the next pretty lady, Captain?”

The man chuckled heartily. “Need I remind you that you are soon to be wed to a princess. If there is a time as any to act on your fancy, it would be now.”

He only raised an amused brow, turning to his friend. “Is that so, Captain? Tell me, have you made any advances towards one of the abigails?”

“Her name is Abigail,” corrected the Captain. “And no, I have not. There is no reason for us to talk. For your father’s guest, however, there is. Any guest of the king is the guest of the prince as well, isn’t it?”

“If only it were that simple,” Kit all but sighed. Even if he and the captain were close friends, it would do more harm than good to tell him of your relationship with each other. His father had been adamant that he divorce the two of you quietly so he could push through with the wedding to the princess.

“Why not march over and talk to her? No one would turn away the prince.”

While he knew that was true, Kit did not want to disturb your peace. You were poring over a book on your lap while your hands were moving over a piece of paper. Scribbling, perhaps? he thought to himself as he looked over at you once more. He heard the captain say some words to him but he was only intent on watching you. He only moved when he saw the captain advance towards you with purposeful strides.

“My lady,” he heard the captain say.

Kit followed behind him, taking on an impassive air about him so he did not seem overeager to be talking with you even though he was. He wanted to speak to you once more ever since his father told him of the reason you were here. There was something in him that told him he had to know you better, other than from the words his father and the Grand Duke had said to him about you. He saw you look up from your page and stood when your eyes landed on him.

“Your Royal Highness, sir,” you curtsied before them.

“My name is Captain Thibault, miss. May I know yours?” the captain asked.

You stood to your height, eyes on Kit before turning to Thibault with a beautiful smile on your face.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N, Captain.” you replied.

Thibault nodded to the book in your hands. “May I?”

You offered the book but his friend took the paper instead.

“Are you an artist, Miss Y/N?” Thibault asked as he showed the piece of paper to Kit. “Your sketch is remarkable.”

Kit had been under the tutelage of Master Phineas and he could see that your sketch was excellent with the way you handled your pencil. Your techniques were impeccable. It was like seeing another master’s artwork.

“No, Captain. I was just finding a way to occupy my thoughts. Luckily, I saw a Digitalis purpurea plant in this beautiful garden and decided to draw it so I can further study it inside my room.”

Kit watched you, enamored at the way you were holding yourself. Any woman would have cowered at the sight of the prince and the Captain of the Guards but you remained yourself. There was no air of pretentiousness or false modesty about you and it was very refreshing for him to see that you weren’t one to fall at his feet and wax poetic about his title or his dashing good looks.

“You study plants?” Kit found himself saying. When you turned to him, he felt himself stop at the look of your eyes.

“Oh, no.” You looked at him with your arresting eyes. “The Grand Duke suggested that I read a book on herbology because it befits my stature instead of taking the book I was intending to read. The first plant I saw when the book opened was thus.”

He raised a brow at that. “And what was it that you wanted to read?”

When you caught your lower lip between your teeth, it was a surprise that he did not catch on fire on the spot.

“The laws of the land, Your Royal Highness,” you murmured.

“The laws of the land?” Thibault asked, passing your scrap of paper back to you. “Whatever for?”

“My… friend desires to learn of the grounds of separation. She is convinced she isn’t a fit match for her husband.” You clamped the sheet in between the pages of the book.

German, Kit noted as he peeked at the title of the book you were holding. He learnt German when he was a child and had turned conversant in it. He was suddenly curious as to how you had learned such an arduous language.

“If I may inquire,” Thibault said. You watched the captain with curious eyes. “Why is the lady convinced she is not suit for her husband?”

Kit realized what reply you had given a few seconds before and watched you silently.

“For one, her husband is so above her in stature. It is an unusual marriage, if I dare say so, Captain.” You told them. Your eyes landed on Kit’s once more. “They had unmistakably signed a marriage contract and had been bound since.”

Kit’s lips twitched into a small smile and he found you give him a shy one of yours. Your offense was great in the eyes of his father but to him, it was comical. Absurd and laughable. If Sir William Shakespeare were alive and present, he would have another comedy in his hands.

“You are right, miss. That is unusual.” Thibault said. “But no matter. Should you wish to come back to the library, I am certain His Royal Highness would be of great help to you.”

Kit saw his friend turn to him and he cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Although, I must warn you, the language the laws were written in are in English and some in Latin.”

You smiled, a dimple sinking into your cheek. “It is no matter. So long as the passage is not wholly in Latin, I think I shall understand it.” You told them.

Thibault gave you a polite smile. “Shall I escort you back to the palace, miss? Perhaps even to the library?”

“I thank you, Captain, but I must decline. I wish to tarry just a little. It is a beautiful day out and it would be such a waste to not bask in the sunlight.” You replied.

“Shall we take a turn about the gardens, then?” Kit asked. “I am sure Captain Thibault is needed by his Guards to command them.”

You looked at him, surprised. You flushed as your eyes collided with his and he would not soon forget the rosy hue that came upon your cheeks. Even with all the beautiful flowers that surrounded you, your beauty, to him, was incomparable.

Thibault only smiled in understanding and bowed. “Your Royal Highness.”

“I would not turn down a walk about the gardens.” You turned to Thibault and held out your hand as if asking for a handshake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain Thibault.”

The Captain instead kissed the top of it. “And you as well, Miss Y/N.”

You blushed once more and then slipped your hand on Kit’s offered arm, walking beside him. Kit loved the garden like his mother did. The royal gardener had maintained well the bushes and the flowers. You were right; it would be a waste to spend the day indoors when it was beautiful like this outside.

“Nice day out,” Kit commented when the silence stretched on.

“Yes, it is, Your Royal Highness.” You said with a smile in your voice.

You tilted your head towards the sky and his eyes followed the outline of your face. A strong nose. Flushed cheeks. Flecks of spots across your nose. The little scar. You looked like you belonged in the lively rays of the sun, not inside the cold formality of the palace.

He caught himself looking at you for longer than what was permitted. “Please, call me Kit.” he said as he cleared his throat, turning away from you.

“Oh, I don’t think it proper that I do.” You murmured. You looked straight ahead now as you both walked aimlessly about.

“I insist,” Kit said once more. “After all, we are wed, are we not?”

Your hand squeezed his arm and he felt the heat of your palm even through the sleeves of his coat. “I apologize for that. It was not my intention to ensnare you in marriage.”

“I know,” was all he said. “May I call you Y/N?”

“You may call me whatever you wish,” you said as you bent and plucked a sprig of lavender.

“If I shall call you by your name, you have to call me by mine. It is a fair exchange.” He said with a smile as he watched you sniff the bud.

You smiled as you looked at him. “Still, it is improper, Your Royal Highness.”

“If you carry on calling me that, I shall call you that as well. You are a princess of this kingdom, after all,” he said lightly.

When you remained quiet, he nodded at the flower in your hands. “Do you like lavenders?”

“They are my favorite. I seal my letters with a sprig of this so people know they are from me.” You opened the book and placed the bloom in between the scraps of paper you had inside. “There is a reason why I wanted to read the laws of the land. I wish to help with this predicament of ours.”

Kit only hummed, walking about with you.

“Your father wishes you to be wed.” You told him, this time with a much firmer tone of voice.

“You do not wish to remain wed to me?” he joked.

“I am no princess,” was all you said. It was neither an affirmation nor a negation. Something inside Kit dared to hope. “I would not want to stand in the way of the future of the kingdom.”

He raised a brow and turned to you. You looked at him.

“You’re hardly in the way,” he said, looking deeply into your eyes.

You gave a shy smile. “Are you really as benevolent as your mother? Finding no fault even when I made such a terrible faux pas?”

All the jesting left him at the mention of his mother. It still felt quite taboo for the kingdom to talk about such terrible happening. He thought he had come to terms with it but he had not, judging from his reaction.

Your hand squeezed his arm once more. You both stopped in your tracks.

“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness. I spoke too liberally.”

He nodded stiffly.

“I shall let you be—”

“Kit! Is that you, cousin?”

Kit turned slowly to the voice behind him. His cousin made his way towards the both of you jauntily, smiling as if he did not intrude upon a serious conversation.

“Your father told me I was to find you here with Captain Thibault. I passed the good man on my way and he told me you were in the presence of a lady.” His cousin said.

Kit cleared his throat, nodding again. “Yes. Louis, this is a… friend, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. Miss Y/N, this is my cousin.”

Louis took your hand and bowed over it, kissing your knuckles. “Louis Toussaint, Duke of Granville.”

You let go of Kit’s arm, dropping into an elegant curtsy. “Your Grace.” you said. Kit was positive he heard a smile in your voice.

“Louis shall suffice, Miss Y/N.”

Kit saw the devious smile on his cousin’s face.

You rose to your height, smiling prettily at his cousin. “Very well, Louis.” You said readily.

Kit only raised his brow… and tamped down the vile green-eyed monster that had suddenly come up him.

TWILIGHT (2008) dir. Catherine Hardwicke

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