Stolen by the Rebel King

"Rise and shine, Your Highness!" Maisie chirped delightedly as she pulled the curtains to let the first rays of sunlight through. Daphne let out a groan that sounded more like a drunk stumbling out from a tavern than a sound from a dignified princess.

"It's morning already?" Daphne grumbled, but she still sat up, her hair looking like a bird's nest. She felt barely rested from the events of yesterday, how could it be morning mere hours later?

"Yes!" Maisie beamed at her. "Our mornings start early. Would you like to change for breakfast? I'll brush your hair too."

"Yes please," Daphne got up and sat at the dressing table while Maisie brushed her hair, her face scrunched in concentration as she detangled the knots with a deft hand. Daphne suddenly felt strangely homesick; this was something her old maids would have helped her with.

Yet here she was, hundreds of miles away from her original destination, with no one she trusted for company. Her eyes burned, her heart even more so.

"Your Highness?" Maisie paused, panicking as she saw tears in her princess' eyes. Oh dear, the King would have her head! She dropped the brush and knelt down, her head on the carpet. "I'm sorry!"

"Why? You didn't do anything wrong," Daphne said, hurriedly drying her eyes before pulling Maisie to her feet.

"I'm still sorry," Maisie said, bowing her head repeatedly. "I know you must miss home, but I can't let you go either! I'm sorry!"

"It's not your fault," Daphne said.

The fault lay with one man and one man alone. What could servants do but obey? Daphne sighed, world-weary. If she wanted to escape, she would have to bide her time. Atticus hadn't dishonored her the night before, so she could still regain her old life if she fled.

"Please stop crying," Daphne pleaded, now realizing that Maisie was the one sobbing into her carpet. Maisie replied with wet sobbing.

Daphne sighed. It was a bit like dealing with her younger half-sister Drusilla. She could also easily turn into a blubbering mess without warning. Daphne handed her a handkerchief before making her way to her window. The window pane already had a thin layer of frost, and when she peered down, the grounds were covered in white.

But what stood out was the addition of tents in multiple colors right in the middle of the town square. The castle was a distance away, but Daphne could spot the townspeople, clad in their furs, going about their day.

"Maisie, why are there so many tents?"

Maisie hurriedly blew her nose into the handkerchief and answered her.

"Your Highness, it's the start of our winter fair!" Maisie cheered up almost immediately. "We get traders from all around the kingdom and abroad, there's good food and wine and ice dancing too! They'll be there even after Yuletide."

"That sounds fun," Daphne said wistfully.

Even in Reaweth, she had never been out in a fair. She had no magic; it was simply too much of a risk. Her parents would never allow her. And each year, she could only watch from her window as her brothers and sisters enjoyed their time out and about. On the other hand, Daphne was just a songbird trapped in a golden cage.

"It is!" Maisie nodded enthusiastically. "Princess, you must visit the fair at least once!"

Daphne snorted, unladylike. There was no way King Atticus would let her leave the castle to explore. Daphne hadn't kidnapped anyone before, but even she knew it was preposterous to let one's captive stroll around the town unguarded.

"Maisie, I'm here as a captive," Daphne reminded her gently. "I doubt the King would let me wander around the kingdom unescorted."

"But you are his wife. He will escort you," Maisie said, blinking guilelessly at her. "Why would he stop you from leaving?"

Daphne sighed. Maisie was gullible enough that she would be an easy mark for any conman. Lord help her. Daphne had no idea how Maisie survived in the royal palace for so long, given that it was usually the most dangerous place to be with all the schemes and betrayals.

"Nevermind, just help me dress."

She then observed the dress Maisie picked out for her. It was a beautiful sky-blue dress made from silk, but there was a dark blue overcoat that came with it, most likely to ward off the wind and chill.

It wasn't in her wardrobe last night. She had poked around the room, hoping to find something to aid her escape, but she only found a lot of matronly maroon dresses in the wardrobes. They looked like something her grandmother would wear.

Absolutely ghastly.

"This dress…" 𝙗𝒆𝒅𝙣𝙤𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝙢

"Is it not to your liking?" Maisie asked, immediately apologetic. "I'll pick a new one for you!"

"No need. I was just wondering where it came from."

"Why, it came from the king, of course!" Maisie said, clasping her hands together. Daphne choked on her spit. "He had these specially commissioned for you. He loves you."

Oh did he? Daphne scowled. This clearly showed that he made plans to kidnap her at least months in advance. Dresses like these weren't made in a day.

And 'love'? Daphne made a face, unable to completely mask her thoughts. It seemed like Maisie really was more naive than she looked to be.

Love didn't exist within the walls of the palace. It wasn't just in Vramid but in Reaweth too, and possibly every part of this godforsaken world. People married for politics and power. Only the commoners were free to marry for love.

"Your Highness?" Maisie asked cautiously, not liking the murderous look that appeared on the princess' face.

"I'm fine." Daphne wiped the scowl away to stop herself from scaring Maisie. It wasn't Maisie's fault she was working for a madman, and she was easily taken in by his lies.

But if Atticus wanted to dress her up like she was his plaything and expected her to take it lying down, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

"Maisie, can I borrow a dress from you instead?"

"But that's― Your Highness! You can't, you mustn't!" Maisie was nearly in tears. "His Majesty would be furious!"

Her hands came to wrap around her own neck. Daphne wasn't sure if Maisie was trying to protect it or mimic how it would look when Atticus found out she had lent Daphne a maid's garb.

"He might just…" She gulped.

Daphne couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Maisie, he's not going to kill you," Daphne said in a deadpan. "Now hurry along and get something. Anything."

"Oh…" Maisie bit her bottom lip. "Alright then, Your Highness."

Daphne watched as the young girl scuttled out of the room, only to return moments later with a dress in hand, along with a couple of accessories to match. The princess eyed the common garbs, her eyes brightening.

A bold idea slipped into her mind.

"Maisie," she said, "you are brilliant."