Her Dark Knight

The Eighteenth Birthday

The young Lady was turning 18 today, and a big birthday party had been planned. The Duke had been meticulously planning the whole event for his daughter, in between his various trips to the Palace, wanting everything to go perfectly. Arabella herself had been shooed away from all the decision making, being told that it was a surprise and that she would not find out until the day.

Well, today was the day. She had awoken early when her maid Delores had entered her bedchambers with her favourite breakfast – pancakes with syrup and bacon. The smell had beckoned the Duchess from the depths of her sleep; perking at the delicious smell set in front of her.

“Good morning, Lady Arabella! Happy birthday to you!” Delores sang cheerfully, walking to open the curtains, letting light stream into the room and causing Arabella to scrunch her eyes up in discomfort.

“Goddess, morning already? Where has the time gone!” Arabella joked, stretching her body whilst still laid in bed, she heard a loud crack in her spine and automatically sighed as the tension was relieved. It was probably one of the best feelings in the world, well, apart from eating this wonderful breakfast set in front of her.

As she dug in, Delores pottered around the room, opening the windows to let air into the stuffy room and putting away the clothes that had been haphazardly thrown onto the floor last night. Arabella was, after all, still a young girl – she was particularly fond of her “floor-drobe” as her father used to call it.

After breakfast, the day was spent prepping and preening for the party later that evening. A few select maids that her mother had picked out were making sure that Arabella would be the most beautiful girl at the reception. The Lady had handpicked a dress out for her daughter from a designer store – a beautiful sky-blue lacy dress that swept past her hips to the floor, accentuating her womanly curves that she had grown into over the past year. As the hour of the party drew closer, the finishing touches were made to her face and hair, with Arabella turning to her mother to showcase their hard work. Lady Astara had been sat upon the chaise in her daughter’s bedchamber for the past couple of hours, waiting patiently – with a few inputs here and there – to see the finished product.

Arabella smiled at her mother as Delores brought out her dress from her closet. Her corset had already been tied up tightly to the point where Arabella was struggling to breathe freely, but that was how you knew it was on correctly. Arabella pointed her hands towards the ceiling as the maids gathered around her to slip her into the dress. Feeling the soft material slip down her body, the young Duchess gasped with contentment at the feeling of it resting upon her soft skin.

Lady Astara stood up with tears in her eyes, walking slowly towards her daughter before saying, “Oh Goddess! What a sight you are. I can’t believe how grown up you look, my baby.” She wiped a few tears away that had escaped, laughing as her daughter spun around in a little jig.

Arabella giggled and embraced her mother quickly, taking care to not mess up the maid’s hard work. “Thank you for this party, Mother. I can’t wait for it to start!” She exclaimed, patting her mother on the cheek before giving it a swift kiss.

As Arabella walked towards the door, and with her back towards her mother, the expression on the face of the older Duchess of Angelos dropped – as if she had suddenly tasted something sour.

The young Duchess walked towards the ballroom, reminiscing on the last time she had made this trip. She hoped that things tonight would end differently, perhaps with her and her Prince together in an isolated part of the house. Thinking such thoughts made her blush, but she was excited to see her betrothed again, for it had been a while since they had parted ways. As Arabella neared the doors, she spotted her father waiting for her patiently. Like déjà vu, they hugged quickly and made small talk before the guard announced their arrival.

With her arm threaded through her father’s, they descended the stairs with grace. Whilst they walked, Arabella subtly looked around the room to spot the bright red clothing of the Royals. Finally, she saw it – hidden amongst the usual black suits that were customary for Nobles to wear to such events. Flashing like a ruby, gleamed the Royal crimson jackets of a Royal. She caught eyes with its wearer and smiled at her betrothed.

Prince Alaric beamed back at her, glancing appreciatively at her clothing even from across the room. Arabella blushed at this and looked down, trying to tame her reddening cheeks before they resembled his clothing.

Once the Duke and his daughter had finally made it to the front of the ballroom, they turned to face their captive audience.

“Noble Ladies and Gentlemen, we have gathered here to celebrate my daughter’s 18th birthday,” the Duke started, and then turned to face Arabella, “My darling, I have loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you, and I know deep in my heart that you shall do great things for our Kingdom.” He smiled, turned to face the crowd once again, and rallied, “So without further ado – let’s raise a toast to my daughter, her betrothed Crowned Prince Alaric, and to the King!”

Arabella watched on as all the guests raised their glasses in unison, shouting, “To the King!” before downing their drinks and throwing the empty glasses onto the floor. As the glass shattered with an echoing finality, the chatter resumed as the servants quickly ran to clean up the mess. She grinned as she recalled the first time she’d witnessed her people conduct this weird ritual, a sort of homage to their King, and even though it was a waste of glasses – it was quite amusing.

Once the mess had been cleared, a group of young women practically ran towards the Lady of the party, gathering around her in a large huddle.

“Duchess Arabella! How wonderful to see you again after all these years, how do you do?” One of them asked – if Arabella could remember correctly, it was Lady Samara of Filikos. They had met previously at one of the rare occasions that Arabella had been allowed to leave her house to mingle with the other Nobles. It had been at a ball to celebrate Prince Alaric’s 10th birthday – although the Prince himself had not been able to attend as he had caught a terrible case of the Werepox that year.

“I am well, thank you Lady Samara. How are you all?” Arabella asked politely. There was a sudden chorus of responses, with the Ladies all trying to outshine each other to get the attention of the Duchess. Arabella smiled to herself, this would take some getting used to when she was Queen.

“I love your dress, Lady Arabella. Where is it from?” Another Lady asked, sidling up to Arabella.

“Thank you, Lady Phillipa. I think my Mother got it from the designer Valencia.”

“Oh Valencia! How wonderful, I will have to get my dresses from there more often!” Lady Philippa exclaimed.

“Duchess Arabella, your earrings are so beautiful, and I love your hair. You look gorgeous.” Lady Winifred butted in, batting her eyelashes to the future Queen.

Arabella pursed her lips, thanking the Lady before trying to get away from the small mob that had swarmed around her.

At this moment, Lady Kylia walked into the ballroom. Arabella locked eyes with the other young Duchess, who smiled hopefully towards her, and turned away quickly. All the other Noble Ladies stopped their chatting and looked over disdainfully towards the intruder. Lady Kylia, seeing the glares directed towards her, rolled her eyes and walked towards the drinks table.

Lady Samara of Filikos walked towards Arabella, “My Princess, I was wondering if you would like to come to a tea dance I shall be hosting in a few days? We can have a lovely catch up, after all it has been a long time.”

Arabella pondered for a moment, glancing over at Lady Kylia who had settled by the side of the ballroom and was watching her with an odd expression, “Yes, sure Lady Samara. I would be delighted to attend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall go and find the Prince.” She said, before tilting her head towards the Lady and striding off.

As she walked, looking around wildly to find her betrothed, she was caught by the arm. Turning to look, it was a young man who she had not seen for a long time. A man that looked so much like his twin sister, complete with curly brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes. He cleared his throat and announced, “Duchess Angelos, what a pleasure to see you again.” He gently picked up her hand and pressed his lips on its top, winking up at her.

Arabella felt her stomach soar and laughed delightedly, “Lord Stratiotis! Oh how wonderful! I’m so glad that you could make it, how has your training been?” She asked, stepping in to hug him tightly.

He patted her back in a brotherly way, grabbing her shoulders before leaning back and replying, “I am quite well, munchkin. Although I’ve heard that you’ve had a falling out with my sister?”

Arabella scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Well I can hardly say that it is my fault. You know how headstrong Kylia is, sometimes she needs to watch what she says.”

Lord Killian nodded, turning his head to eye his younger twin sister - only by five minutes, as Kylia always liked to remind them - still sulking at the side of the room, “You should go and speak to her though, she’s upset that you’re angry at her.”

“Oh Killian… I might just let her stew a little longer before we do that. Maybe it will teach her a lesson,” she said, winking at the handsome Lord.

He laughed and hugged her again, “Oh how I have missed you! I’m glad that my sister has someone to put her back in her place before her head gets too big!” He joked, smiling brightly at Arabella. “Would you care for a dance, munchkin?”

Arabella agreed, and they descended onto the dance floor. They laughed through the moves just like old times, when they both hadn’t had to worry about their responsibilities. As they swayed across the floor, Arabella caught sight of the Prince. He was standing next to her father, and they were talking heatedly. As Arabella kept her eyes upon them, she saw the Prince turn his face towards her, locking gazes. Her father also looked at her, before the older man quickly directed the Prince towards the back of the hall – where no eyes could see them.

The Lady frowned, How very odd, she thought. Her mind spun thinking about what the two men could have been talking about. As the music came to an end, she bade adieu to Lord Killian who kissed her on the cheek gently – before waltzing off towards his sulking twin.

Arabella crept towards the area where she had seen her father and Prince Alaric disappear, but was immediately pulled backwards into a hard chest. She gasped and turned around quickly, locking eyes with the young man she had been searching for.

He smirked and leant down to her level, “Looking for me, Bella?” He asked, brushing his finger along her cheek.

“Why were you talking to my father?” She asked, leaning into his touch slightly.

“Oh you know… Just talking about you, and how beautiful you are tonight.” Prince Alaric said smoothly, grinning towards his future bride.

Arabella blushed, “Oh.. Okay.” She said, blushing red. A short silence fell upon the pair, before it was broken by the Prince clearing his throat.

“I saw you dancing with Lord Killian, do you two know each other?” Alaric asked.

“Yes! Since childhood really, he was always coming around with Kylia and so we became quite close. He’s been out of the city training with the Army to become the next Lord of Stratiotis for the past few years, so it was nice to see him tonight.” Arabella chirped.

The Prince replied, “Indeed… I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him but I hope you will be able to introduce me.”

The future Queen smiled in agreement, gushing about how the two men would probably get along splendidly as they were both of sound character.

Suddenly, the musicians in the corner of the ballroom started to produce an upbeat jive – making the young Duchess squeal in delight and, grabbing the Prince by the hand, led him onto the dancefloor. “Let us dance!” She sang, swaying to the cheerful music being played. As they danced, her mind kept drawing back to the interaction between Alaric and her father. She would try to forget about it as it was probably nothing, but something just didn’t feel right.