Chapter 1: Among the Evergreens

I wake, with sudden awareness of how much pain I'm in. Stars of red flash across my eyes as I struggle to stay awake. My hand goes to my side, intensifying the sharpness. As my eyes begin to focus, I take in my surroundings, trying not to make a noise in case something, or someone, was the inflicter of my pain. Lush evergreens stand triumphantly above me, so grand that they're almost reaching up to the sky. I feel the damp earth beneath me, my skin cold. My pain throbs even more as I rise to a sitting position as I realize what I'm wearing. A dress, blood soaked, but it was at some point something a regal would wear. A princess, maybe even a queen perhaps. Why am I wearing this? And where am I?

I once again observe the area. Birds chirp in the distance, perhaps some river water running nearby and… horse hooves? Yes, most definitely. And they were getting louder. Fear grips me as I climb to my feet. With a hand at my side, ensuring I don't continue to bleed out, I scurry my way to some nearby shrubs, careful as I crouch down. I get a glance at where I woke. Blood had surrounded me. A group of men on horseback catch my eyes as they emerge through the forest. I keep quiet, controlling my breathing.

One of the men, who looks to be a soldier, dismounts his horse and rushes over to where I woke. He looks alarmed. "Sir!" He yells, attracting the attention of the man in the middle of the group. He also dismounts, running over to the scene. This middle man looks different from the other soldiers. His clothing is more rich in color, embroidered in red and gold. The sword at his side looks to be of finer origin than his other men. I watch as he falls to his knees, squeezing his palms into the bloodied grass. I can hear his breath growing heavier, even from this distance.

"We need to find her!" He roars. "She was just here! Men, spread out!" He stands as his men do what they are told. I feel this pang of compassion, empathy for him. He must have been looking for me. But why? The swirl of heavy, unanswered questions makes my head pound. I don't know if they come with the intention of hurting me or not. But I do know it wouldn't be best to run, because I most definitely could not outrun them. So I continue to hide, and watch the Middle Man.

I watch as he pulls out something, what looks to be a note. "My dear… where are you? Where have you gone?" He says in such a low voice I can barely make it out. Without a doubt in my heart, I know he's talking about me. All the why's seemingly vanish as I rise to my feet, with a struggle, and make eye contact with him. His eyes widen, frozen as he takes me in. Without warning, he sprints to me, embracing me in his arms. Pain from my injury shoots through me, but I ignore it. I feel my shoulders become wet with his tears, his breath hitching.

"Charlotte," he breathes, slowly letting me go to get a closer look at me, and I at him. He stands a good bit taller than me. His features are sharp, mature, and defined. He's got facial hair, and he looks like he hasn't slept for days. But his eyes carry kindness. His hands start to reach for my face as I unintentionally flinch. He looks pained at my reaction. I quickly glanced down, not wanting to feel his gaze. "What ever happened to you?"

"I don't know," I croak, speaking for the first time in who knows how long. His hands relax on my arms, bringing warmth over my cold skin. A hand grazes across mine, the one covering up my wound.

"Are you hurt?" I nod at his response. "How did you get hurt?"

"I don't remember." I glanced up at him, his eyes stuck on the location of my injury, my bloodied dress and hands.

"Do you recall anything?" He slowly asked. I shake my head. "Do you know your name? Or who I am to you?" Again, I shake my head no. I watch as he gently rests a hand on my face, my body becoming more comfortable around him. He takes a moment, studying me before he says, "I am Edward, soon to be king of Briton. And you, Charlotte of Francia, are my bride."