Betrothed To The King

After three long, agonizing years in a coma, Pearl was finally on her feet, celebrating her 23rd birthday. The joy of seeing her friends and family again after all that time was overwhelming.

No one could have imagined that a simple fall down a slope would leave Pearl unconscious for three years, hovering between life and death.

Now, after years of hopelessness, she was back, healthy and strong. Pearl had always been known as a fierce woman, the girl with fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes who feared no one. Her reputation as a skilled swordswoman and a master of high kicks was well earned. Strength and resilience had always been her defining traits.

“I’m so glad to see you like this, Pearl. We truly thought we had lost you forever,” Seren said as she carefully styled Pearl’s hair, her eyes reflecting both relief and admiration.

“I know. I’ve missed you both so much. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to lose you two,” Pearl replied, her voice soft with gratitude as she embraced her friends.

“It’s your first birthday after three years in bed. We’re going to make sure you look absolutely breathtaking tonight. You’ve got friends and a few enemies coming, so you need to be at your best,” Rosamund added with a knowing smile, and Pearl couldn’t help but smile in return.

“I’m truly lucky to have you both. Thank you for sticking with me through everything,” Pearl said, her tone playful as she made a mock pout while Rosamund selected a bottle of nail polish.

“I’m thinking white for your toenails. What do you think, Seren?” Rosamund asked.

“Definitely white. It’ll suit Pearl perfectly. Especially with those huge toenails,” Seren teased, and the three women laughed together.

Pearl glanced over at her parents, standing in the corner of the room, whispering to each other. There was a nervousness about them, furtive glances and gestures that made it clear something weighed on their minds. Still, Pearl didn’t dwell on it. Her focus remained on the lighthearted conversation with her friends, the first true moments of normalcy she had experienced in so long.

Minutes later, her mother entered the room with a broad smile.

“My darling, you look absolutely stunning. I can’t wait for everyone to see you. Seren, Rosamund, you’re doing an amazing job. Keep it up, but be quick. The guests will be arriving soon,” her mother said, planting a gentle kiss on Pearl’s cheek before hurrying out.

“We’re almost done, ma’am,” Seren and Rosamund chimed in together as Pearl’s mother exited.

“Your mother looks so happy. She hasn’t smiled like that in years. It’s so good to see her like this,” Seren observed, pinning a delicate hairpiece into Pearl’s hair.

Pearl stood up, gazing at herself in the mirror, her dress twirling slightly as she turned.

“That dress is perfect for you, Pearl,” Rosamund remarked, admiring the flowing floral gown.

“I know, right? I’ve always loved floral prints, and this one complements my hair so well,” Pearl replied, running her hands over the soft fabric.

“Alright, time to head downstairs. I’m sure everyone’s eager to see you,” Seren urged, and Pearl nodded, making her way out of the room.

I walked down the grand staircase, carefully lifting my gown to avoid tripping over the worn marble steps. My fingers traced the rusted railing as I descended.

The sound of laughter and music filled the air, so loud that it nearly drowned out my own thoughts. People were dancing, drinks in hand, and the party was in full swing.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the ballroom, the crowd erupted in applause. But I knew better. Most of them hadn’t come to celebrate with me. They were here to gossip, to take in the spectacle of the girl who had been asleep for three years.

I scanned the hall, catching sight of my parents, still whispering in a corner, their faces marked with tension. Something was wrong. I wanted to approach them, to ask what was going on, but I held myself back for the sake of the guests.

Among the crowd, I spotted the wealthier guests in their isolated corner, dressed in their finest. The men wore polished jackets, and the women’s flowing gowns were adorned with intricate headpieces. They looked regal and untouchable, their presence reminding me of the vast distance between our lives. My parents’ meager wages at the knight’s farm wouldn’t even cover the cost of one of their fans.

“Thank you all for coming to my party. I truly appreciate you being here,” I announced, attempting to smile despite the heavy atmosphere.

“There’s barely enough wine for the guests,” a man in the crowd commented, and laughter followed, cold and dismissive. My heart sank. For a moment, I considered throwing my shoes at the pot-bellied man who had made the remark, but I restrained myself, if only because the wealthy onlookers were watching.

These people had come not out of friendship but because I had helped them once before. There was no other bond between us.

“My dear, take this and buy whatever you need to stay well,” one of the older women said, handing me a few coins. Others followed suit, offering money before preparing to leave.

I watched as they left, and I was left with the other guests, the ones who resented me for my strength, for being different.

“You should really fix up this house before it crumbles down around you. Are you that poor? You’ve been living on the king’s land for years without paying for it, and yet you still can’t manage to build a proper home,” sneered a small man, his oversized hat nearly slipping off his head as he spoke. Anger flared in my chest, and I clenched my fists. How dare they speak like this?

I looked over at my parents again, hoping they’d step in, but they were still lost in their conversation, oblivious. Above me, the walls showed deep cracks, revealing the truth of our situation.

Suddenly, the party felt meaningless. I blinked hard, fighting back tears. I refused to let anyone see me break down.

The guests’ cruelty was unbearable. I had expected something better, warmth, maybe kindness. But all I felt was judgment.

The fact that my parents had been unable to repay the loan on the king’s land for over twenty-three years was the source of our disgrace. After a devastating flood had destroyed their thatched house, they had no choice but to borrow the land, especially with my mother pregnant with me at the time.

The king had never shown us mercy. At least now he was ill.

“This party is over!” I yelled, my voice shaking as I fought to keep the tears from spilling. Weakness was something I despised.

I watched the remaining guests shuffle out, muttering insults about my family. Rage simmered beneath my skin, but there was nothing I could do in my weakened state. My body still ached from the coma, and the injury on my back was a constant reminder of my fragility.

My parents noticed the exodus of guests, their confused gazes landing on me.

“Why is everyone leaving so early?” my father asked.

“Of all the days to have an endless conversation, you chose my birthday. You won’t believe what they said,” My voice caught, and I couldn’t finish. I ran upstairs, choking back the tears, clutching my gown to keep from falling.

“She doesn’t understand,” my mother said, sinking onto the worn couch. “The king has sent word, and I’m sure he’s on his way. I just hope this ends peacefully. I hate the idea of giving my daughter away like she’s nothing.”

My father paced, his face lined with worry.

Moments later, the frail wooden door was kicked open, and the king strode in, his eyes sweeping over the room with disdain.

“So, this is where my betrothed lives? How wretched. She should be grateful to leave this hovel for a life with me,” he sneered, meeting my father’s gaze. My father knelt before him, head bowed.

“Where is she?” the king asked, his voice cold.

“S-She’s upstairs,” my father stammered as the guards moved to retrieve me.

“Let go of me! You’ll regret this if you don’t!” I screamed, struggling against the guard, who barely seemed to notice my blows.

“My king, we’ve secured her, though her friends managed to escape. Please forgive me,” the guard said, bowing deeply.

“Her friends are of no concern to me. Take her to the chariot and guard her closely. She seems stubborn,” the king commanded.

“You don’t own me! Take me back inside!” I yelled, fighting against the guards as they shoved me into the chariot.

The king remained behind with a few of his men and my parents. He casually sat on the crooked table.

“So, you thought you could hide her from me? I hear you were planning to send her to another kingdom. That would have been a grave mistake. You borrowed my father’s land and couldn’t repay it. Did you really think you’d get to keep your daughter? No more words. Guards, burn this place down, with them inside,” the king ordered before turning and walking out of the house.

I was being dragged away by unknown men, and my parents said nothing to stop them. The silence hurt more than the rough hands gripping me. I felt worthless.

Was this why they had been acting suspicious throughout my birthday? Had they expected this to happen? And who was the rich-looking young man dressed in royal robes? He stood before my parents with an air of authority, powerful and unmoving.

I hated myself for being unable to defend my parents, and I hated the woman I had become after the coma. I was no longer the fierce girl I once was. I was a weak duckling.

“What have I done to deserve this kind of treatment from you and your master?” I asked the tall, intimidating black man beside me. His face was expressionless, his gaze cold, and not a trace of a smile crossed his lips as he turned toward me.

“He is not just my master,” the man replied sternly. “He is the King of Guham. And you are betrothed to him. You should learn to accept that, or prepare yourse