The council room was chilly, the gleaming stone floors picking up the muted hum of speech as Charlotte came in. The lords and counsellors were already seated, their faces sombre and serious. There were no smiles to be seen today—only the cutting edge of political tension that always preceded conferences of this type.
Charlotte paused to consider them as she made her way to her seat at the head of the table. There was Lord Averic, with his silver mustache and calculating gaze; Duke Amory, fidgeting constantly with his rings, as if his titles weighed too heavily on his hands; and, naturally, Mira, standing discreetly behind Charlotte with her ever-composed presence, scanning the room like a hawk.
But it was Charlotte who ended the silence.
Charlotte: "Good afternoon, gentlemen! I hope you all had a lovely morning?" Her tone was cheerful, too cheerful, as if she were having a royal tea party rather than a strained political gathering.
The lords looked at one another, not knowing whether to be annoyed or amused. Lord Averic cleared his throat and straightened his stance.
Lord Averic: "Your Highness, the situation at hand is urgent. We have problems that need serious deliberation."
Charlotte's grin only grew wider, and she leaned forward over the table, her hands clasped in front of her like a child eager to tell a secret.
Charlotte: "Oh, naturally, naturally. I realize how urgent everything is, but surely we could begin with something a bit. less heavy, hmm?" She looked to the side, where a huge cake had been rolled into the room. It was a showpiece—three tiers, royal blue fondant, gold trim and sugar flowers that looked like they belonged on a fairy's hair. A crown sat atop it, shining in the light.
The lords blinked in surprise.
Duke Amory: "What. is that?"
Charlotte: "Why, it's the cake!" she announced with excitement, her eyes sparkling. "It's my first royal cake as Queen-to-be! Thought we could all have a slice before we get into the seriousness of kingdom business."
A roomful of gasps, but Charlotte didn't wait for anyone to say anything. She got up and walked over to the cake, her fingers hovering above the frosting like a kid in front of a candy jar.
Charlotte: "You see, this is the perfect metaphor for the state of our kingdom, gentlemen. You've got your firm base—that's the old traditions and systems. But then, you've got your layers of sweet frosting—innovations, changes, new ideas! And, of course, the crown on top—"the frosting of progress.""
She sliced a piece and placed it carefully on a plate, her motions graceful, as if this was a royal ceremony.
Charlotte: "So! Let's begin by sharing something sweet before we dive into the, well. less sweet parts of the conversation."
The room was silent for a moment, and then Lord Averic, always the first to regain composure, cleared his throat.
Lord Averic: "Your Highness, I understand you are—how shall we put it—inspirational, but we have grave matters to attend to. We can't afford to be distracted by. cake."
Charlotte's eyes shot over to him, her smile never wavering. She bit into her slice and hummed in satisfaction, like she was tasting the essence of the moment.
Charlotte: "Oh, but you see, Lord Averic, precisely. We simply can't avoid the sweetness any longer. The kingdom can't function on solely the dry crumb of tried and true procedures and expectations alone. It needs the layers—the innovation, the happiness, the life—to remain healthy and sturdy. It's much like cake, actually."
She pointed once more to the cake, her hands moving expansively as she talked.
Charlotte: "The kingdom requires its sweetness, its imagination, its capacity to dream past the dry, dusty rules. Yes, I know that tradition is important, but maybe we've spent too much time concerned with the crumbs instead of the entirety."
The other lords looked at each other, not knowing whether to go along with this unconventional method.
Duke Amory: "Your Highness, we see your point, but. there are issues. The factional rifts are widening. We cannot disregard the pressures from the conservative nobles, nor the tensions with neighboring kingdoms in recent times."
Charlotte put her fork down, her expression turning serious but still retaining that underlying energy that seemed to vibrate in everything she did.
Charlotte: "Of course. I'm well aware of the stakes, Duke Amory. But as you're all worried about keeping the layers of the cake intact, I'm worried about the slices—about the individuals who will be eating it. I'm not here to just keep the kingdom running; I'm here to create it. To make it something that people want to be a part of."
Her tone had acquired a subdued strength now, and the room became silent. Even the perpetually reserved Mira appeared to be aware of the change.
Charlotte: "Yes, there are diplomatic issues, of course. There are wars to be fought, enemies to be taken into account, but. if we can't make the kingdom a place people love—not because they fear us, but because they're proud of us—then what are we fighting for?"
There was a silence. The lords traded glances, their typical bluster failing in the presence of Charlotte's surprising lucidity.
Lord Averic: "And how, specifically, do you suggest we cause them to love us, Your Highness? With cake?"
Charlotte smiled once more, but on this occasion, the smile was one that appeared to hold both mischief and something more determined.
Charlotte: "No, Lord Averic. Not with cake. But I would definitely begin with it. A good beginning. Let them experience something new—something surprising—and understand that maybe there is more to us than we have indicated. I will demonstrate to them, slowly but surely, that a kingdom of joy can be as powerful as one based on fear. That's what will cause them to love us."
She stood up, the room still staring after her as she took a further bite of her cake.
Charlotte: "And if they don't love us? Well then, they'll certainly love the cakes."
Some laughter was allowed to break the tension, although the political import of the room was in no way dispersed. Charlotte had presented them with an option: cling to the traditional, or risk taking a bite out of something different.
Her eyes scanned the room, and despite herself, Charlotte felt a flicker of triumph. For once, the tables had turned. And it was her game now.
Charlotte: "So. shall we discuss alliances next? Or perhaps more cake?"
As the session went on, Charlotte felt more energized than she had in weeks. The lords were still guarded, still wary of her mercurial style, but they could not help but acknowledge the strength beneath her words. They could see now that she was more than a mere young princess. She was a force, and even the most cynical political players in the room could not deny it.
And as for Charlotte, well, she was just warming up.