Lianne was furious. She was angry and hurt, humiliated and sad. She wanted to lash out, to scream and loose it completely. Smoke black emotions swirled through her like stormy waves upon harsh shore rocks: thundering and raging. Her eyes sparked like lightning as she fled up the stairs. So badly she wanted to stomp and slam doors, but she didn't. She couldn't. There were many things she couldn't do. Running down the hall, her heavy dress getting in the way, she couldn't stop the tears from falling down her face. Scowling she wildly brushed them away as she ran, her flimsy court shoes flapping at the floor like toy dogs barking. One fell off, but she kept madly rushing up the stupidly long hall to her room. Turning a corner she knocked a person carrying a towering pile of books to the floor, but she didn't stop to help. No one helped her.
She latched onto her anger and let it take root in her soul, spreading like wildfire through her veins. It didn't hurt to be angry. It only hurt when she let the red emotion go, so she clung on for dear life. Stumbling on the hem of her frilly dress she heard fabric rip and growled in frustration. Banging open her door at last she barged inside and shut the door, she couldn't slam it. She was already in trouble enough. Flinging herself onto the bed she hit at her tears, leaving stinging red marks on her face.
Sobbing Lianne pulled on her hair and rocked back and forth. There was nothing she could do. She was so powerless, completely powerless. Suddenly she laughed, a harsh, sad sound. Oh, if Alanna saw her what would she say. "You always have control of yourself. It's the one thing no one can take away from you." To hell with that. It was gone with her hand in marriage. Gone with her home and her horse and everything she'd have to leave when she left to marry. No, it was gone before that. Gone with the friends she wasn't allowed to make. Gone with the subjects she wasn't allowed to learn and the thoughts she wasn't allowed to voice and the questions she wasn't allowed to know the answer for. She had never been free. Her life was her countries and it hurt.
Lianne remembered when she'd met Lucy in the kitchen. She was four, Lianne's age, with soft blonde curls and curious blue eyes. She played games about dragons and knights and all sorts of wonderful things. Games where Lianne wasn't a princess. Where Lianne got to rescue her, or serve her, or chase her. Any game where Lianne wasn't a princess was a good game. Already she had known, subconsciously, that being a princess was not a fun thing. Lianne closed her eyes, as if to block away the truth, as she remembered her that day with in the family room with Mother looking so upset as she told Lianne, "You can't be her friend. I don't want you to play with her again." Lianne had known better than to beg and plead. So she had nodded, and curtsied, and cried for days in her room. She had never been free. Not really.
Now, sitting on her bed, thirteen years old, she cried and shook and wrung her hands in frustration, in hopelessness. Choking on her sobs she stood and paced, anger building up inside of her, hopelessness trashing her soul. Crying so hard she couldn't see straight she slammed her fist into the mirror and watched as it fell to pieces in front of her. She felt no better, just a bit numb as she watched blood well up on her knuckles and felt a sharp pain settle in her hand.
Backing away from the mess she sat down on her bed. In a month she would marry Prince Clandvalk, a man four times her age with a big beer belly and ever growing bald spot on his shinny head. He had a large bulbous nose and deep laugh and soft hands that had never seen a day of true work. She would be his third wife, the tie to a peace treaty between Tortal and Nariske. He didn't love her, she didn't love him, and her parents - the world - knew that. It didn't matter. No real-life princess got to marry a knight in shining armor, a man who loved her. Nothing as silly as love mattered when it came to a princess's life.
"The people will be safe now," her mother would tell her. "Remember the people," Kelandry would say. And Lianne would, as she walked down the aisle. She would remember them as she went to his bed and as she bore him a child. But she didn't want to. She'd never want to, just as she never wanted to stop being Lucy's friend. Lianne had no choice in the matter. Staring at the blood on her hand she smiled sadly. "Remember the people, and keep them safe." She chuckled bitterly. Yes, but who will protect the princess?
PLEASE REVIEW!
It's short and rather spur of the moment, but I've always liked the one-shots about Lianne's arranged marriages and such. It's kind of like how we have all our fairy tales now days about wonderful heroic knights and we read history books and find how gross and corrupt it was back then. We hear a lot about knights, but not so much about the royal children, so I wrote this. Yes, I know the idea's old.
PLEASE REVIEW!
Thanks!
Echo
