Have you ever looked at a goldfish swimming around in a glass bowl, and pitied it? Have you ever thought: "What a poor creature," because it could only swim in circles, while it is being watched all the time?
Well, no matter if you have or haven't, I am that goldfish. Don't worry, not literally, of course. I am certainly not some genetically enhanced goldfish with the ability to speak - geez , wouldn't that be annoying? Don't they say goldfish have the memory span of 3 seconds? So every time they introduce themselves, it would be like this: "Hello, I'm Dave. Nice to meet you, who are you? Hello, I'm Dave. Nice to meet you, who are you? Hello-" you get the idea.
Anyway, I'm getting off topic. What was I saying? Right, I'm the goldfish. A figurative goldfish. So, to be clear, I don't have fins, gills, scales or a memory span of 3 seconds - I do, however, live inside a palace guarded by armed men, and I cannot go anywhere with at least one of those.
That palace - my supersonic goldfish bowl - lies in the centre of Marerra. Were the next-door neighbours of Great Britain, only separated by a bit of water; some people call it a sea. Our "true" neighbours are Germany and France, which have been both our allies and enemies in the past; this is nothing special, I believe almost every country in Europe once fought every other contra at one point or another.
Marerra is a beautiful country - undeniably so, with its green countrysides, vast forests and blue lakes. Not to mention the golden sand dunes at the coast.
Sadly, I dint get to see much of it. At this point we yet again to my previous statement: I am the goldfish. However, most people call me "Princess", "your Majesty", "highness" and all that other cra- nonsense. To me, it's just Elissa. Pitifully, I'm not in charge… just yet.
No, not pitifully; being pronounced queen is actually my biggest nightmare, so naturally, I just try to pretend it will never happen.
"You'll just have to live forever," is what I used to tell my dad. That would solve everything.
To conclude: all men are created equal, except those with "Royal blood". We sit on our pedestal, up in the clouds, souring above the world. Those who see us, think it must be beautiful here. Actually, you can't see much of the world below, and it can be quite cold. We can be rather lonely, far away from the Raul world.
That is, until the real world starts banging on your door, and breathing in your neck.
That is, until you have to run from it.