The Knights led Rose into a carriage and pushed her onto one of the seats harshly. She groaned quietly at the impact of the wooden seat. One by one the Knights piled in, all staring at her curiously. Some smirked, some grimaced in disgust, some turned their faces away for she was not worthy of their attention. Rose noticed that the main Knight – the one who had been yelling at her – did not join them in the carriage. She was grateful, as she was sure that he would have some stern words to say to her.

Rose was pressed against the side of the carriage uncomfortably, her shoulder already beginning to ache. As the carriage began moving, the Knights began talking loudly. Some jeered at her, telling her what her physical flaws were. Rose made sure not to show any emotion on her face. She stared blankly at the opposite wall, refusing to say anything despite the tears threatening to prick at her eyes. The Knights laughed at her, a few managed to prod her. It caused Rose to flinch a little, but she controlled her face, showing indifference. She had suffered much worse behaviour before. Only a few of the men remained quiet and did not participate, but they did not stop the treatment either.

"Do you have a death wish, defying the Prince like that?" One man jeered as the rest chorused their agreement.

"Perhaps I do," Rose murmured, not making eye contact with any of them. They were all quiet for a moment, probably surprised, before they continued with their mockery.

The Knight next to her, a particularly loud man, laughed as his friends cheered him on. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed it. Rose jerked away, pressing herself against the carriage wall as hard as she could, watching his hand warily. The Knights laughed louder. Where was their sense of chivalry? Respect?

Some of the men reached over and began pulling on her matted hair, causing her to release a small moan of pain. This only made them laugh louder. Realizing now that they were able to get a reaction out of her, some began pulling on her dress. The tug of their hands only caused the rips in her dress to tear further. Rose gasped and crossed her arms against her stomach tightly when a rip formed in the bodice of her dress.

"Please stop," she finally managed to mumble. Their raucous laughter was the only response. Rose stared out the window desperately as their treatment continued. They were so close to the castle now. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. She would never show it – but she was scared. Terrified. Yes, she had just escaped the life of a beggar, but what was she being led into now? Perhaps she would be tortured. Maybe the Prince would force her to be his mistress. A silent sob escaped Rose as the thought hit her. Why couldn't he just kill her? Her life was miserable enough as it was. She did not need more pain. Father, help me. Make them stop, protect me from the wrath of the Prince. The carriage pulled to a sudden halt, just as Rose thought she could not take any more ridicule. The door was swung open suddenly, causing her to start. There stood the man, the Knight, that had yelled at her and told her to bow. Rose stared at him warily. Would he treat her the same as these men?

"The girl is to come with me," the man said gruffly. The Knights, all on their best behaviour now, nodded and made room for Rose to escape the carriage. One could not resist casually sticking his leg out at the last moment. Rose tripped on his foot and fell, slipping down the carriage steps painfully. A searing pain went up the side of her leg. The corner of the stairs had scraped her. She hissed in pain, half sprawled on the floor, then sighed. She was used to this treatment. The head Knight glared at the man that had tripped her up. "Henry! Stable duty. The girl is not to be harmed. I expect better behaviour from all of you." The one called Henry groaned but stopped when the Knight narrowed his eyes. The rest of the Knight's bowed their heads, shamefaced.

The Knight turned to Rose and offered his hand to help her up but she ignored it, expecting another cruel trick. She stood up by herself, feeling exhausted, weak, and hurt. Her leg flared in pain. The man instructed her to follow him as he turned and walked with a steady pace – not too fast for Rose to keep up. She limped past the royal carriage. As she did, Rose made eye contact with the Prince who was still in his seat looking out the window. He appeared to be deep in thought. His attention flickered to Rose as she passed. There was a softer expression in his eyes than earlier. His gaze did not leave hers as she limped past him, her hands clenched into fists.

When there was a good distance between Rose and the carriage, she looked around. They were walking past the main entrance of the castle. She looked up at the Knight curiously, somewhat afraid.

"What is he going to do to me?" Rose finally asked. The Knight looked surprised - as if he had not expected her to speak to him. He was a quieter fellow, but something in his face told Rose that this was a man that demanded – and had earned – respect. His gaze softened as he looked Rose up and down.

"I do not know," he told her. His eyes shone with honesty – Rose knew he was being truthful.

"Is he going to kill me?" She asked, trying to keep an indifferent expression. The Knight smiled as if he knew some secret.

"No, I do not believe so," he answered. He walked up to a door that was on the side of the castle. Rose gazed at it warily. What was this? Was it the entrance to the dungeon? Were they going to put her in there and let her rot? She felt her heart beat faster as fear swept through her. The Knight opened the door without hesitation and gestured for her to enter, watching her carefully. He probably believed Rose would try and run. As tempting as it was, she knew she would not be strong enough to run away without being caught. Rose stepped inside, raising her eyebrows. This was not what she had been expecting. The room was lit with a few candles, and a lovely aroma filled it. All around Rose servants scurried about, not pausing to spare her a second glance. The Knight reached out and caught the arm of one servant, bringing her to a halt. She looked up at him as he pulled her over. There was no fear in her eyes.

"How can I help you, Sir?" She asked him, curtseying briefly. She was a very pretty girl, with waist length, straight red hair, and a pale, dainty face.

"Serena, where is Mistress Eudora?" The Knight asked. Rose was surprised the man knew a maid by her first name. She closed her eyes, briefly wondering who Mistress Eudora was. Her head was spinning but she ignored it.

"Out the back hanging the washing, Sir," Serena replied, gesturing quickly with her hand to a door on the opposite side of the wall. The Knight said his thanks and began walking, making sure Rose was following. They stepped through the door into an open hallway that led outside. Rose's leg was throbbing now. Resentment filled her at the thought of the Knight, Henry, who had tripped her up. Did he not know wounds like this could fester? The cold air hit Rose fiercely as they walked a short distance to where a small, rounded woman was hanging up freshly cleaned clothes. She turned when she heard out footsteps. Her blue eyes were very kind, and her lips had a natural smile to them. She was older and looked awfully cheerful. The woman looked at Rose curiously as she and the Knight approached, her face warm and plump.

"Stay here," the Knight told Rose, walking up to meet the woman. They talked quickly, Rose could not hear them or make out their words. By now her head was pounding. She just wanted to sleep. The Knight walked past Rose and nodded his farewell, he did not say anything else to her. He vanished from her sight and Rose stood awkwardly by herself. The woman waddled up to her, smiling cheerfully.

"Well! You certainly are a skinny girl," she said, appraising Rose with her eyes. She tsked as she looked at her dress, noticing the rip in her bodice that they Knights had made. A sudden swarm of dizziness hit Rose. What is wrong with me? She swayed on her feet and struggled to keep her vision focused. "This won't do. Won't do at all," the woman said, frowning sadly. "Look at you, you poor thing. You are barely able to stand on your own two feet. I must tend to you at once!" She offered Rose her arm and she clutched onto it desperately, grateful for the support. She felt very weak. "We must get some food into you at once," the woman told Rose, walking at a pace Rose could keep up with. They arrived in a room with a few wooden tables and chairs.

"Sit there, dear," the woman told Rose, gently helping her sit on the nearest chair. Rose flopped her head on the table, fighting sleep. The woman disappeared but within minutes returned. She placed a plate in front of her. On it was a bread roll and some cheese. Rose widened her eyes in awe. She knew that, to many people, this would seem an awfully small meal. However, Rose had not been in contact with such a large amount of food in years. She felt tears form in her eyes from such a kind gesture. Her stomach clenched tightly and made a loud grumbling noise. 

The woman told Rose to eat and, again, disappeared. Not wasting any time, Rose ripped a chunk of bread away from the roll and stuffed it in her mouth. She had barely chewed it before swallowing. She was starving. The cheese was incredible – she had not tasted anything like it since she was a child. A cup was next to the plate and in it was water. She drank a few gulps down. Rose was finished with her meal in minutes. Her stomach felt so extremely full that she wondered if it was about to burst. She had never felt so content. If defying royalty earns me a meal, I should do this more often, she thought to herself – half serious and half joking. The woman returned and Rose gazed up at her gratefully. She did not feel so weak anymore.

"Thank you," Rose said to her, completely sincere. A large smile broke out on the woman's round, friendly face.

"Well, that is no problem! No problem at all, dear."

"Who are you?"

"Mistress Eudora – head servant here. The real question is, who might you be?" She answered.

"My name is Rose, ma'am," Rose answered politely. Mistress Eudora sat opposite Rose, resting her hands on her lap.

"Well, Rose, it seems as though your act of defiance may have just saved you from the streets," she told her, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

"Perhaps. But at what cost?" Rose responded anxiously, thinking about all the possible punishments that were awaiting her. Mistress Eudora looked thoughtful.

"The Prince can come across as rather arrogant, granted, but he is not one to condemn someone to suffer. I do not believe he would hurt you. I have known him since he was a little lad, you know. If you dig in deep enough, you will find that truly he does have a good heart," she told Rose. There was a deep fondness in her eyes, yet also sadness. Rose struggled to accept her words and believe that that man could be good.

"What is he going to do to me?"

"Nothing you need to fear, I'm sure of it. But it is for him to decide. Now," she said, looking Rose up and down again. "We really must sort out a bath and some new clothes for you." Rose's eyes widened in genuine surprise.

"Pardon me?" Mistress Eudora turned from where she was now standing to look at Rose in confusion.

"What do you mean, pardon you? Did you think I would let you walk around the castle looking like that? Besides, the Prince wants you tended to. He commanded it," she told Rose, winking. Rose followed Mistress Eudora out the room, unable to make herself believe Mistress Eudora's words. There was no way the Prince had commanded that she be tended to. Impossible. That was not his character. He did not care for the wellbeing of beggars.

Mistress Eudora led Rose to another room where three servants stood waiting, their hands folded and heads bowed respectfully.

"Girls, this is Rose. I need you to clean her up while I find some new clothes," she told them. The girls all nodded. Mistress Eudora stepped out of the room, winking at Rose again as she passed. The girls led Rose to another small room – the washroom, she realised. Lavender and roses in vases were spread around the room, creating a relaxing aroma. In the heart of the room was a tub – a bathtub. The girls introduced themselves to Rose politely – Anabelle, Samara, and Miriam. They then proceeded to help undress her and assist her into the tub.

By the time the girls were done with Rose, the water in the tub was completely brown. They all grimaced, disgusted. As Rose exited the tub, the girls worked together and tipped a bucket of clean water all over her, washing off any excess dirt. They all giggled at Rose's surprised expression. Rose managed a small smile of her own as they handed her a towel. Never before had she been in the midst of such luxury. Her leg was still stinging. After the bath, they were all able to see the large cut that spread up the back of her calf. Rose winced. It looked very ugly and irritated but it was not bleeding anymore and would probably not need to be bandaged.

Mistress Eudora returned then and ushered the three girls out of the room. She was carrying a bundle in her arms. She looked Rose up and down and nodded.

"Not a speck of dirt to be seen! Who knew you had such lovely, fair skin?" She told Rose, sparing a brief glance at the brown water in the tub. "Now, I haven't been told what you are expected to wear at this moment, but I did not want to put you in a servants garment. So I thought to myself, I wonder what colour would look nice on you? I thought a green, do you not agree?" She asked, barely pausing. "Yes, I think so. Which is why I picked out this old dress of mine – it belonged to me back in the day! Yes! I used to be rather thin, believe it or not!" Mistress Eudora laughed, still not letting Rose speak. "It's nothing too fancy, but it's much nicer than that old gown you were wearing!" Rose had never met anyone as jolly as Mistress Eudora. With a flourish, Mistress Eudora unfolded the bundle in her hands, revealing a gorgeous dress. Rose gasped in amazement. Certainly, it was not as fancy as the gowns the nobles wore, but to Rose it was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. It was a simple dress, a deep green with a cream undercoat. She fell in love with it the moment she laid eyes on it. Mistress Eudora smiled at her awed expression.

Mistress Eudora helped Rose dress and enthused to herself when she saw it fit Rose well. She then proceeded to brush out the tangles in Rose's hair, talking happily as she did so.

"You look absolutely ravishing, dear. I never would have thought there would be such an elegant, beautiful young woman under all that dirt and grime," she told Rose, the strokes of the brush relaxing her. "And look! What a beautiful colour your hair is," she told Rose. Her hair was almost dry now. She turned Rose around to face the looking glass. Rose's breath caught in her throat. This was the first time she had seen herself clean in five years. Her hair was a bright, light blonde colour and had a slight curl to it. It was soft, for once, instead of being covered in grease and dirt. Startling grey eyes stared back at her that held a whisper of joy in them. Rose smiled. She had never ever felt so beautiful. She turned to Mistress Eudora and hugged her, for lack of any good words.

"Thank you, Mistress Eudora. I... I," she trailed off, unable to express her gratitude.

"I know, sweetheart. You don't need to say anything. Now, we must go," she told Rose, her eyes twinkling.

"Go where?"

"To the Prince, of course," Mistress Eudora told her, waddling out of the room. Rose froze as a wave of fear hit her. She had forgotten about the Prince – she still had to face him. Her heart pounded, but slowly she convinced herself to start walking. She followed Mistress Eudora out of the room, breathing heavily and ignoring the sting in her leg.

Mistress Eudora left Rose standing alone by an extravagantly decorated double door entrance. Two Knights stood on either side, guarding the entrance. Rose inhaled a deep, nervous breath when the doors finally opened. I do not have a spirit of fear, I do not have a spirit of fear. She clamped her hands into fists, telling herself to be brave. Step by step she walked into the room. The Prince was sitting on a chair next to a table, gazing at her with wide eyes. Rose could see none of the haughtiness in his expression that had been there when she first laid eyes on him. He stood up and walked up to face Rose, his brown eyes not moving from her. He stopped about a meter away from her, looking shocked. Neither of them said anything, involved in a miniature stare down. He finally cocked a smile and tilted his head to the side.

"No curtsey?" He asked Rose, his voice deep and almost cheerful. Rose stared blankly at him, refusing to give in. "I suppose I should not be surprised. Tell me, what is your name?" His voice was smooth, deep and attractive – no wonder girls were always pining for his attention. He was taller than her but he did not try to intimidate her with his height and stature.

"My name," Rose heard the Prince's breath catch as he heard her, "is Rose Culbert." Prince Tristan watched her for another minute before answering.

"I want to know, Rose, why you refused to bow." He did not sound cruel or angry, but his words filled her with anger and frustration.

"You do not deserve my respect," she answered harshly, glaring at him. Prince Tristan stared at Rose and revealed nothing with his expression.

"Why? What have you got against me and my family?" Rose scoffed quietly at his words.

"What have I got against the Royals? I'll tell you. When I was four your family had my parents executed. The Royal's left me as an orphan. You made no effort to help me, you never even sought out any other family for me. You left me alone. When I was thirteen I was tossed out of my orphanage and left for the streets. I've spent five years begging people for a tiny scrap of food every single day. People have abused me, spat on me, laughed at me.
"Meanwhile, you are off playing with the hearts of every pretty girl you meet, expecting us all to love you. You parade about in your fancy carriage without even glancing at the poor people who need help. You eat to your heart's content whilst I was lucky to get a rotten piece of bread to eat. You may hold the title of the Prince, but you are not Royalty to me. A real Prince would care about his people – would be invested in their lives. You haven't a clue of what it means to live like me. You have slept every night in your feathered bed, whilst I considered it a blessing to have a doormat to rest on.
"You come to the village to 'assess the village conditions' every week. Tell me, Prince, what have you learned in all your visits? Anything? No! Because you are too busy trying to fill your own, selfish desires. If there is one thing I hate, it is a selfish man with a heart of stone!
"You wonder why I won't bow to you. Ha! What have you ever done to help me? I shall bow to you when you have earned my respect," Rose huffed out a breath as she finished her rant, glaring at the Prince in fury. She could tell his jaw was clenched as he stared back at her, looking angry and hurt. Rose knew her words could have her killed on the spot, but deep within she knew she had done the right thing speaking truthfully, whether it led to her death or not. Rose and the Prince both breathed heavily for a minute.

~

A woman walked into the room the Prince was in and approached him slowly. He stared at her in awe of her beauty. He could not pull his eyes away from her. It was not until Tristan stood to greet her that he realised who it was. The beggar. He was beyond shocked. To think he had thought her plain of appearance in the town. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her long, light blonde hair was wispy and slightly curly. Her eyes were bright and piercing, her lips a deep pink, her cheekbones were high and defined, and her skin was fair and looked smooth. She held her head up high, seeming more to be of nobility than a beggar. Her gentle, feminine appearance disguised her fiery temper. He was not prepared for the argument that would soon follow.

She was right. Tristan knew she was, as he listened to her outburst. He felt like he had just been slapped into reality. The Prince clenched his jaw as she ranted. She did not know him, she had never even met him! She did not know his reasons for acting the way he did. How dare she judge him! Besides, what did Tristan owe a person like her? She was lucky to believe alive right now. No, she should have been quivering with gratitude!

Is this what he received as payment for feeding her, cleaning her, and clothing her? For sparing her life? Ungrateful girl. He could have had her executed there on the spot in the village. His heart immediately pounded at the thought. Prince Tristan knew he did not have it in him to sentence someone to death, no matter how furious he became.

Still, as she vented all her anger towards him, something in him broke. How could she possibly hate him so much when she barely knew him? Her words hit Tristan like arrows into his heart. He was not a Prince worthy to be bowed down to. If only she knew how he was desperate to change, to be better.

Rose finished her rant, her eyes beaming with passion and fury. They stood, breathing heavily, for a moment. Finally Tristan opened his mouth, preparing to speak. She had been hurt in her life – no doubt about it. She had suffered and seen things no one should. Yet she had just attacked him with her words, something which no one had ever dared to do. Was he angry or sympathetic?

"I'm... sorry," Tristan finally said. Rose recoiled in shock.

"Excuse me?"

"I said I am sorry. About your parents... and the life you had to live. You are right. My family has not earned your respect. However, you misjudge me. Surely you must have realized that I was not the one to sentence your family to death. That was the work of my father, the King. But even with the death of your parents on my shoulders, you have no right to judge me and assume you know my thoughts nor the reasons for my decisions. You do not know my heart, you do not know me," he told her firmly.

"You are saying that I am wrong about you?" She scoffed. He stared at her for a second. For such a small, beautiful girl she truly did have a fierce temper.

"Yes... No... If you misjudge me, it is my own doing. I have not acted in the proper manner. However, I cannot send you back to the village for people will say they will not be disciplined for breaking the law," Tristan explained. She looked up at him with a hopeless expression.

"So that is it, then? Am I to be kept here forever? What will you do with me – shall I rot in the dungeon?" She was trying to be brave, but he could see fear on her face and tears glistening in her eyes.

"No. Nothing like that. You will work here, in the castle, as a servant. After all, it is a step up from being a beggar," the Prince told her, nonchalantly. She looked shocked and offended. Tristan was not prepared to deal with another one of her verbal attacks, so he turned his back on her. "You can go now." He heard the sound of her scoff, then her fast footsteps as she stormed away from him. Tristan turned his head, watching her dress float around her legs and hair drift in the wind. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but she was a servant now. Nothing more, nothing less.