chapter 1

The early morning sun shone in through the large bay window in Princess Gabrielle’s room, casting pale pink and orange hues over the plush carpet. It was the third sunrise she had seen since she’d been locked in, and since the rebellion had begun.

There had been chatter for many years that an underground network of disgruntled servants wanted the King gone, but no one, especially not the elite, had truly believed that anything would come of it. After all, many people wanted the King gone. He was an arrogant, cruel and selfish ruler who paid his servants pittance while squandering thousands on his own lavish lifestyle. He was an unlikeable man who led an unlikeable family, but there had been a great deal of unlikeable Kings. It was a truly unexpected occurrence to every royal when, three nights prior, a few loyal Knights had rushed into the Palace to warn the King of the incoming rebels.
The King had disappeared in a flurry to try and secure his vaults, the Queen ran to stash her jewels, the Prince brandished a sword and told boastfully of how he would slaughter each rebel, and the Princess, Gabrielle, had summoned her waiting maid.

“To my chambers with me, Lottie” she had barked, and hurried to her room followed by the flustered servant.

Inside, Princess Gabrielle had begun pointing out dresses, shoes and jewels that she wanted packed.

“With haste, stupid girl!” cried the Princess, sitting on the luxurious bed while Lottie scurried about. Princess Gabrielle continued to yell orders as a loud, rhythmic thumping began downstairs. It seemed that someone was attempting to knock the main doors to the Palace down.

“You must remember the pink silk with the little white crystals, and you dare not forget the red dress with the sweetheart neckline!”

There was an ear-splitting crash as the doors fell in, and the sounds of yelling and swords clashing filled the air. Princess Gabrielle’s pale, angular face turned even more pale and she turned to her maid.

“Get my trunk. We shall go out the peasant tunnel, now”

The peasant tunnel was what Princess Gabrielle called the servant’s entrance, and every time she said it Lottie’s skin crawled.

“Perhaps, Your Highness, we ought to find your family first?” offered the maid gently.

Scarcely had Lottie finished her sentence when a sharp slap landed on her olive cheek.

“You do not challenge my instruction” said the Princess, her eyes burning. “Do as you are told, or you shall be left behind for the rebel’s mercy”

Lottie huffed as she dragged the overfilled trunk out onto the corridor and the Princess followed anxiously behind.

“It hardly needs to be spoken but I shall make it clear, Lottie, that should we be apprehended, you will stand in front of any sword aimed at me. After all, I am by far the more important of us, am I not? Do you understand, maid?”

Before Lottie could reply, as if manifested by Princess Gabrielle’s words, a rebel brandishing a sword appeared in front of them, his eyes fixed on the Princess.

“Please, back into your chamber, Your Highness” Lottie whispered, and the Princess gave a slight nod and hurried back into her room, slamming the door without a thought to the maid’s safety.

A few seconds of silence ticked by and Princess Gabrielle lent on her door to listen, but heard nothing save her own ragged breathing.

There was silence.

“Hello?” she muttered into the keyhole, in case her maid might be able to hear her. The silence continued, and the Princess started to become more frantic, wrapping quietly on the door, to no response. Suddenly, she heard... laughter?

"Lottie?!" the Princess angrily hissed into the keyhole yet again. "What on Earth is happening out there?"

When still, no reply came, the Princess dropped to her knees and tried to peer under the door. but between the soft fur carpet and the huge wooden door there was no way to see out. So, Gabrielle dared open it, just a sliver to try and catch a glimpse of the scene outside. From her vantage point on the floor, she saw two pairs of feet standing outside her room, both clothed in clunky, unfashionable boots. Her eyes travelled up the two bodies before her, until her eyes rested on two faces. The rebel man and... Lottie. They stood, arm in arm, patiently waiting.

"Lottie?" Princess Gabrielle said, with so much shock that she forgot to be wary.

Both faces stared down at her, with expressions she hardly recognised because they were so seldom directed at her, and certainly not by a servant. Defiance. Confidence. Amusement. The tip of the sword that the man held was suddenly inches from Princess Gabrielle's nose, and she stared up at her new enemies in terror.

"How long, Princess, did you think I would put up with your wretched self? That the people of this Kingdom would stoop to serve your disgraceful family?" Lottie enquired, with a dark, slender eyebrow raised.

"How dare you, you ungrateful little bitch! I-" the Princess couldn't squawk out her sentence because she found the edge of the blade gently pressed into her throat.

"Thank you, Walter" Lottie continued with a smirk. "As I was saying, your days of parading around like a china doll are quite over, Your Highness."

Usually, the words 'Your Highness' were said with reverence and respect, often during a curtsy, but the way Lottie said them now made them sound more like an insult.

"The rebels are the future of the Kingdom now. And, should you be lucky enough to see that future, you should beg their mercy, you spoiled little hog"

The words stung the Princess worse than anything she had ever experienced, as they were by far the harshest words that had ever been spoken to her.

"Enjoy this room while you have the chance," Lottie looked around the beautiful chamber with disdain. "It is surely the nicest one you shall sleep in again"

With that, the door closed with a clunk in Princess Gabrielle's face, and there was a click. She was locked in. Trapped in her own luxurious room. And there she remained for three long days. She knew not what had happened to her family, and she struggled to care. She spent the days languidly staring out the window, mourning the loss of her spectacular life. By all accounts, Princess Gabrielle had had everything that any young girl could ever want. Of course there was her royal title, the various Palaces her family owned, her seemingly endless riches, her expensive possessions, but that wasn't all. She was also blessed with an extraordinary beauty. Princess Gabrielle was petite but willowy, with a slender, milky figure that complemented every dress that covered it. Her body was smooth and untoned, due to the total lack of any physical labour throughout her life, but this seemed to match her graceful, delicate facial features that were encircled by a cloud of golden blonde hair. She had been described by many an artist and poet as a beauty akin to an angel, and her looks seemed to attract even more suitors than her title did. Despite this, the Princess never married. She knew all too well of how lovely she was and was quite adamant that no man she had ever met was good enough to wed her. Even so, she always attended every ball, every season, and made sure every eligible gentleman knew just what they had missed out on.
She thought about all these things and more as she sat in her chamber, unaware of what was transpiring downstairs.