Rosie's Games

The room was charged with tension as Princess Isadora's eyes met Rosalind's. "I believe there's been some misunderstanding," Princess Isadora began with an edge to her voice, the weight of the royal crown pressing upon her thoughts. "The information I hold is of significant value..."

"Then share it with us all," Rosalind swiftly interjected, her gaze unyielding. "Alternatively, discuss it with the Duke. This isn't just gossip. It pertains directly to his matrimonial fate."

Princess Isadora squared her shoulders. "The Duke would never turn a deaf ear to my words. But I chose to confide in you out of regard for the present Duchess of the North," she declared, her voice echoing the pride of her royal lineage.

Rosalind, momentarily taken aback by the Princess's self-assured tone, quickly composed herself. "Very well," she replied, her voice now laced with a touch of ice. "I suggest you take this matter directly to the Duke. And rest assured, if he chooses you as his bride, I will depart from the north, leaving him at your side, forevermore." With that, Rosalind began to rise. "If there's nothing else to discuss..."

"But what if the nobility catches wind of this?" Princess Isadora pressed, her eyes searching Rosalind's for a hint of fear. "The King and Queen of Wugari and the other nobles of various Kingdoms won't hesitate to turn this revelation against both the Duke and the Duchess."

Rosalind leaned in, a sly grin playing on her lips. "And aren't you concerned? If Rakha is threatened by beasts once more, what if the Duke doesn't come to your rescue?" Satisfaction danced in her eyes as she watched the color drain from the Princess's face. "The Duke owes Rakha nothing. It's quite the contrary. I remember the days when he effortlessly warded off those creatures. Provoking such a man... that would be unwise."

The Princess was rendered speechless, her regal facade cracking. As Rosalind's smile broadened, she added, "Now, if we are indeed done here, I must rest. I have an important audience with the King tomorrow." Without waiting for any retort from the Princess, Rosalind gracefully exited the chamber, making her way to her own quarters.

As soon as she entered, Magda, her confidante, approached with concern. "Are you well?"

"Well, there was that unfortunate mishap," Magda began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Princess Isadora was thrown from her horse during a ride. She was unconscious for several days. When she finally woke up, she immediately arranged for a grand banquet."

"Did something untoward happen this time?" Magda asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Nothing noteworthy," Rosalind replied with a slight shake of her head. She then issued a firm directive to her confidante. "Ensure that no further guests are admitted tonight, Magda. I need my rest." She had a meeting with the king the very next day and she needed to be at her best.

….

As the hidden door creaked shut, a man stepped forth from the concealed chamber located deep within the Princess's study. "She declined your offer, as you had foreseen," he reported, a shadow of doubt clouding his eyes.

Princess Isadora sighed a sense of resignation in her tone. "She's only recently become his bride," she remarked. "It's hardly surprising she wouldn't entertain my offer right away." Turning her gaze to the man, her older sibling and heir to the Rakha throne, she added playfully, "Your face betrays your skepticism. Are you questioning your own sister's intuition?"

The Prince exhaled, his brow creased in contemplation. "It's not your intuition I doubt. It's the audacity of setting your sights on a man already bound in matrimony that perplexes me. And this... dream you've spoken of... can we truly rely on its authenticity?" He was referring to the haunting dream Princess Isadora claimed to have had—a glimpse into a possible future.

In her unsettling dream, demons breached the world's protective barriers, resulting in catastrophic loss and suffering for humanity. Amidst the chaos, the Duke of Wugari, unburdened by marriage, emerged as a beacon of hope, battling the demonic horde and standing as the last bastion against the encroaching darkness. And then, just as abruptly as it began, the dream had ended.

Initially, Princess Isadora herself had been skeptical. Could she really possess the ability to foresee the future? However, compelled by her vision, she launched an investigation into the backgrounds of both the Duke and his mysterious Duchess.

The results were astonishing. The Duchess seemed to be a puzzle—a woman without a past. Her history was fabricated, and her sudden marriage to the Duke raised more questions than answers. It hinted strongly at a marriage of convenience.

Determined to unravel the truth, Princess Isadora had devised a cunning strategy to coax the Duchess into revealing more. From the looks of it, her plan was beginning to bear fruit.

"There's no doubt about it," declared Princess Isadora, her tone as crisp as the wine she swirled in her goblet. She shifted her gaze to her brother, now occupying the chair Rosalind had vacated earlier. "I've set in motion a detailed investigation into the matter, and my instincts tell me that the foreseen events are drawing near." The future she had seen, however, was a complex mosaic of shifting variables and possibilities that she struggled to comprehend fully.

The Prince rubbed his temples, his face a mask of concern. "You mentioned the Duke was single in your vision, and Lonyth was the fallen land instead of Cirid. There are incongruities in your account that unsettle me," he admitted, his voice weary. "I think you must involve our father in this matter. It's too grave to grapple with alone. Your marital prospects are not a frivolous matter, Isadora. How can you base your future on a dream?"

His sister met his worried gaze with a steely one of her own. "You haven't seen what I have, brother. My decision is final. I must remain at the Duke's side, come what may."

The Prince sighed heavily. "What if the Duke truly harbors affection for this Duchess? What if—"

"Enough!" Princess Isadora cut him off abruptly. "That man does not understand the concept of love." Rising gracefully from her chair, she moved towards her cluttered desk. "I can assure you, he has no room in his heart for anyone." Seating herself behind the desk, she reached for a well-worn journal, its pages filled with her neat handwriting. This was the record she'd kept since her visions began - a detailed narrative of her dream-induced foresight.

She opened the journal and began to lose herself in her own writing.

In her dream, Isadora witnessed the horrors of a cataclysmic future - a deadly plague, an onslaught of beasts, and a brutal war that pitted the seven noble families against one another. The aftermath was a landscape of despair and mourning. Then came the collapse of the barrier, a catastrophic event that unleashed an even greater terror.

Rakha, her own kingdom, was the first to bear the brunt of the demonic invasion. She saw her father and brother slain in the ensuing chaos. In the midst of the nightmare, a knight spirited her away to the northern realm, seeking sanctuary at the Duke's estate. This dream encounter with the Duke and his people had birthed a strange familiarity in Isadora.

The cascade of tragedies continued. The mighty Aster Empire crumbled soon after Rakha's fall, followed by Raston and Dreaston. Each of the Seven Families succumbed, one after the other, to the demonic onslaught. Desperate to prevent this bleak future, Isadora knew she had to marry the Duke, the prophesied savior who would shield humanity from certain doom.

Closing her journal with a heavy sigh, Isadora grappled with the magnitude of her premonitions. As ludicrous as it might sound, the evidence was undeniable. The imminent eruption of the Howling Mountains was a clear harbinger of the impending disaster!

"I believe you are overly consumed by this dream…" her brother's voice brought her back from her reverie. "It's not that I do not trust your judgment, but... marriage isn't something you decide on a whim. You have to—"

"I will not discuss this further with you," Princess Isadora interrupted curtly. Her voice carried an uncharacteristic harshness. "I need solitude. Please, leave."

"Isadora…" her brother's voice echoed with concern.

Summoning a semblance of calm, Isadora sighed. Normally, she wasn't this vulnerable, especially when perturbed. Since childhood, she had been taught to restrain her emotions, to mask any sign of weakness. But the terrifying images she had seen in her dream were not easily dismissed. "I need to rest, brother," she said, her voice softening to a whisper.

"Alright then, we will reconvene in the morning," the Prince conceded with a heavy sigh. Reluctantly, he exited the study, the wooden door clicking softly behind him. In the silence that followed, Isadora slumped in her chair, her eyes closed and the weight of sleeplessness etched into her delicate features.

It had been days, perhaps even weeks, since she last found respite in restful sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the vividness of those haunting dreams replayed, leaving her in a wakeful stupor. This constant barrage was taking a toll on her mental and emotional well-being. Yet, despite the strain, a realization gnawed at her core.

She was convinced that these dreams were not merely the meanderings of an overactive mind. They bore a purpose. After deep reflection, Isadora believed that some higher power or force had chosen her to witness these visions. It was a plea, a desperate call for intervention, urging her to alter the dire trajectory of the continent's future.

She needed to change the future!

...

A/N: She should be dreaming about Rosalind's past. Like the things that happened after Rosalind died in her past life.