The Royal Secret [Fiction]

"Philippa!" Lady Emma approached her charge, her feet almost slipping off the rocks alongside the shoreline in her haste to catch up with the princess. Her face was filled with both concern and reproach. "Your grace, what hast thou done?"

Philippa, a beautiful young princess and next in line to the throne of Ironmoor, stood gazing at the ocean and the endless horizon.

The cool breeze whipped her golden hair around her face and the setting sun illuminated her fair skin. She loved the ocean. It was her haven of calm and introspection. Being royalty was no easy life as the peasants thought.

She dipped her feet into the cold waters and shuddered. Stripping off her velvet gown down to her kirtle, she slowly walked into the water dressed in only her silk chemise.

She flapped her legs and lay, face up, in the water. The soft crash of the gentle waves against her was soothing. She closed her eyes, breathing in the cool air as Lady Emma's words pierced her thoughts.

"What hast thou done?" Lady Emma pressed.

"I did what I had to do," Philippa replied, her voice but a whisper. But her heart pounded fast as images of her carnal union with drunken Roscoe repeated themselves in her head.

"And what of thy cousin? He shall never forgive thee for such a betrayal."

Philippa turned to face Lady Emma, her eyes ablaze with determination. "He shall never know. I made sure of it. Unless thou reveal it."

Then her eyes softened as she gripped her small breasts. "I shall bear a son, Emma. Mine own son! Then shall I reclaim my father's throne to the shame of my uncle who seeks to deprive me of it. Is it a curse that I am of the fairer sex? Ironmoor hath need of a monarch that cares for her. Thou knowest I am so inclined."

Lady Emma sighed, her heart heavy with worry for her young princess whom she held in her arms right from her birth.

"Your grace, think on what thou art doing. Thy uncle, he shall not be pleased. And thy cousin, he is not one to be trifled with."

"I am aware of the danger," Philippa replied. "But I shall not be a playing piece on their chess board. I shall be the one who hath sway over the future of this realm. And I shall undertake any means necessary to assure it."

Lady Emma sighed once more, for she knew the depth of Philippa's resolve. And so, she determined to stand by her princess, to be her rock in the tumultuous times ahead.

"Thou knowest my life and allegiance are pledged to thee," Emma said with a smile. "May Ironmoor be graced with a queen most deserving."

Eleven years later, despite surrounding dangers, Ironmoor was proud to have Her Majesty, Philippa Percival Montague as her monarch and young Bartholomew as the heir apparent.

Philippa's uncle and cousin lived in exile under a royal edict that called for their immediate execution should they be seen anywhere close to the borders of Ironmoor.

On a cool afternoon, Philippa took a walk to the oceanside.

Lady Sybilla helped the Queen of Ironmoor take off her gown and undergarments, leaving only her chemise. The royal guards were on patrol along the shore, but none dared to look upon their nearly-unclothed queen as she took a swim.

As Philippa swam, her thoughts turned to Lady Emma who had passed on but who remained always in her heart. She whispered a prayer of thanks for the wise woman who had been like a mother to her.

Emma kept her secret or she could never have accomplished what she had.

What I See

I see a woman lying in the ocean with her eyes closed and a serene expression on her face as she takes in the calming beauty of nature. The reflection of the sunset casts a warm glow over the water creating a peaceful and idyllic scene.

What I Feel

The image evokes feelings of peace and serenity.

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