"Get up!" bellowed the instructor, demanding young Charles to stand from his bruised and battered position on the ground.
Groaning as he panted, Charles struggled to obey, having been beaten by three men under the command of the instructor. A brutal, but necessary training. If he was going to succeed in entering the Heart Estate, he must get up. No matter how many times he was to be knocked back down. Should this be the future, it could be the Duchess' life on the line. Even still, his body screamed in protest as he got back to his knees.
"Would you have her die? Would you be able to bear the grief, knowing you let her? I said get up!" he hollered.
Charles' eyes narrowed. Not while he still drew breath. The young Duchess would never know pain. And if she did, the one who introduced it to her would know it tenfold. Clenching his jaw, he ignored the crack of his bones as he fought to stand up, body shaky. Wobbling, he stumbled back onto his knees, a hiss slipping from his grit teeth.
"Get up, Charles!" The instructor demanded. "Charles!"
"Charles!" squealed the bubbly young Duchess.
Pulled back into the present, Charles blinked his memories away, realizing that he had stopped brushing the young miss' hair. The brush idly sat halfway through her long chestnut strands, which curled ever so slightly against the cushion of her seat. Immediately drawing the brush back and out of her hair, Charles shook his head as the Duchess turned to look at him over her shoulder.
"Sorry. Did I hurt you?" he asked, brows pinched as his hand delicately grazed the smoothed strands.
"That's the second time you've gone off in your own thoughts," she scolded with a pout. "Do you mean to have me arrive late to my meeting with Father?"
"Of course not," he sulked, his hand raising to return the brush to her hair. "Forgive me, Emilia."
"What were you thinking about? You do that, sometimes," Emilia wondered aloud as she returned her gaze to the large vanity mirror.
Charles chuckled, a smile tugging at his lips. Even through the most painful parts of that memory, it was still arguably one of his best. The day he had been accepted into the Heart Estate.
"I was thinking of the first day of this job."
"You mean as my guard?"
"Mm ..." Charles nodded with a soft smile. "Though it seems I've acquired a number of titles over the years."
"Have you?" Emilia pressed, brows raised curiously.
"Storyteller. Vanquisher of night terrors," he went on playfully, smile widening.
He had more than proven himself to the Grand-Duke that he was ready and able to take on the position despite his young age. His instructors had seen enough to vouch for his capabilities, thus securing the rest of his life alongside the woman who had won his heart.
Duchess Emilia Heart was everything Charles had ever wanted, bound together by the innocence of a child. A child he had cared for and looked after for nearly ten years, and admired for even longer. He had devoted his life to becoming a worthy candidate for the closest he could get to a companion – her guard. Specifically assigned to the young Duchess, it was more than a commoner who longed after royalty could ask for.
And be granted, no less.
He had found himself in quite a unique position, being allowed to be so close to the Duchess, even by a guard's standards. Even this, a task as simple as brushing Emilia's hair should have been resigned to one of the estate's chambermaids. Because Charles had started his apprenticeship at such a young age at only three years Emilia's senior, the two were able to form a friendship. The young duchess was constantly both distracting and testing his duties as a guard. They'd often been found frolicking about, causing a mess for the older maids and other staff with pranks and mischief. But if talk of removing Charles from the household were to reach Emilia's ears, the halls of the estate would vibrate with the screams of her protest.
You might say that her mother took pity on Emilia's request to have Charles take up the responsibilities of her chambermaid. Or you might say that she would have lost the battle of maintaining order in the estate if she refused.
Either way, Emilia had been satiated, and Charles had been blessed. She had found a best friend in Charles, and Charles had found something more.
Emilia continued, finding amusement in adding to the list. "Chambermaid, monster hunter."
Charles laughed, finishing the daily task of brushing the Duchess' hair, which he had groomed into the spectacle that it was since she was ten years old. Setting the brush down against the vanity, he nodded as Emilia turned around, smiling the smile he had been lucky enough to gaze upon each day and would do anything to protect.
"And by monster, you mean the mouse that found its way into your bathroom," Charles snickered, standing up and stretching. Brushing Emilia's hair took anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour, depending on a number of factors. How chatty Emilia was, how tired Charles was, and how much time he had to spend with her before her curfew.
"I meant what I said," Emilia argued, raising her chin in defiance.
"Yes, well. As you said, we shouldn't keep your parents waiting."
♥
Coming to sit in the decorative chair in front of her father's office desk, Emilia greeted him with her usual curtsey. Her mother gave her a nod of acknowledgment as Charles closed the door behind them. Standing by the door with his hands folded at his waist, he watched as the Grand Duke gazed upon his daughter.
He was just as curious as Emilia, if not more, to find out what this meeting had been about. Unlike previous praise or scolding towards the young Duchess, there were no hints given as to what the topic of discussion would be. But seeing both noble figures in such pleasant moods triggered similar ones in them.
As the Grand-Duke cleared his throat, both Charles and Emilia straightened their posture, their bodies tensing in anticipation.
"Emilia," her father began. "We've called you to discuss a matter of great importance."
Charles rose a brow, his initial curiosity immediately turning a shade of worry. He had always kept a list of possibilities in the back of his mind of the things that could ruin his terms with the young Duchess. And upon the lack of immediate presenting of praise, he began sifting through them while Emilia looked on with her big blue eyes. Finishing school? Emilia was of age and had often spoken about furthering her education. Upon promising to look into it, perhaps they had finally found a suitable institution. One Charles could only hope he would be allowed to accompany her to.
"You've grown into a fine young woman," her mother continued with a proud smile on her painted red lips. "And we are not the only ones to have taken notice."
Charles' heart came to a screeching halt. Leaping bounds over the initial speculation of finishing school, his mind immediately sunk to the depths of his worst, long-awaited fear.
The gleaming smile on her mother's face made Emilia's eyes widen. Her instincts immediately recognized the look on her mother's giddy face, as well as the broad smile of her father. Eyes already beginning to well, she questioned the purposeful pause.
"Father?"
"You know Benjamin Crowle," The Duke began. Benjamin was son to the Duke's longtime friend, Theodore, who was brother to the King of Oxhaven, thus giving them both the title of prince. Not having the strict local living requirements, Theodore and his family had made their home not too far from the Heart's own duchy. Because of this, it wasn't unusual for the families to visit one another and mingle every so often.
"I do," Emilia nodded. "Is he well?"
"Quite. Just as you have, he's grown into a fine young man," The Duke went on. "Coming into his season, he has expressed interest in becoming a suitor for you."
Both Charles and Emilia's jaws dropped upon the announcement. And both pairs of eyes stung with the approach of tears. One of joy, and the other of despair.
Standing from the chair, her hands came to cover her quivering lips. "What?" she exhaled, chest heaving in her excitement.
"He's requested our presence tomorrow, presumably to express his interest in person," The Duke couldn't help but smile, seeing Emilia's excitement.
And of course, they were happy as well, receiving an offer from such a noble family. They may have been rather casual with the Crowles, but they were well aware of their standing with the rest of the country. More than being a safe suitor for their daughter, it was also a considerable benefit for their social standing.
Emilia broke into tears of joy. It mattered little to her at that moment who the suitor was - only that there was one. Marriage had been all she had ever wanted since as far back as she could remember. To have a family and children of her own. She had dreamed of becoming a suitable wife, and finally hearing the proposal of marriage – to a Prince, no less – was more than enough to propel the tears forward.
Charles knew more than anyone of Emilia's humble dream. Her wish to start and have her own family. And though Charles had been comfortable in his current position, he had foolishly let himself fantasize about being able to make that dream come true. He had always thought to himself that when she entered her first season, he would advance in trying to win her heart, mind, and body.
But this news had taken them both by surprise, the prince's proposal coming before said first season. Had he really been too late?
"You are to be groomed and at your very best for your travels. Am I clear, young lady?" her mother playfully demanded, beaming with pride.
Squealing, Emilia rushed forward in her gown, not bothering to lift its front as she dashed, nearly tripping in the process. The Duke stood to meet her, grunting a chuckle as she threw her arms around his portly body, long hair swaying at her back as she kissed at his cheek.
"Yes, I swear it!" she shrilled before spinning around and fumbling towards her giggling mother. "May I have a new dress? Oh, please! Mother, I must."
"Of course," the Grand-Duchess giggled. "Though there isn't enough time to have it tailored. You'll have to go into town first thing tomorrow. Charles will be sure to take you." She turned her attention to the internally imploding guard. "Won't you, Charles?"
But Charles wasn't present. His gaze, pale and glazed, stared forward, his mind still racing. Until his silence towards the Grand Duchess drew the Duke's attention. Promptly clearing his throat towards him, Charles snapped back to reality, head jerking towards the women in atonement. Bowing, he rushed to respond.
"Y-Yes, Miss," he stumbled before straightening his posture, eyes averted and low. "Of course ..."
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