Your name is Kanaya Maryam and this is BORING.

You are 6 years old and you are standing beside an altar, staring at your father as he waits patiently for his bride. It is September 1st, just after your birthday, which was also the day your birthday present was a flower girl dress. It was white and Jade, almost exactly like your mother's wedding dress, but shorter and poofier. You felt like you were wrapped in a cocoon. You were hot and couldn't move properly and it was awful. You stared at the little flower basket in your arms, empty of the rose petals now scattered on the aisle.

Everything was pink and white, making the green on your dress stand out WAY more than you wanted it too. Right now, you're standing in front of the bridesmaids, who are wearing dresses in different shades of pink in all forms imaginable. You honestly don't know why your father made you wear a white dress with jade highlights and bows. On top of that WHY make it seem like your mother's dress when marrying another woman? Why green when the colour scheme was CLEARLY pink and white? You didn't really have any problem with your dress having green instead of pink, (you actually preferred it) but it just didn't match! There could have been at least ONE other item in the room with green on it.

Suddenly, the music started playing, interrupting your thoughts, and your head snapped up to see your father's soon-to-be wife, and your soon-to-be new stepmother. She had dark, long, and wild hair, which most of the time resembled like tentacles, which was really creepy. This time though, her hair was put neatly in a thick braid laced with flowers that reaches her feet. Her dress was an that white, with hints of that dark pink colour she loved in little designs near the hem. It had an empire shape, with a V neck and it ended just above her ankles. There was a thin pink belt just below her chest which gave her a high-waist look. You had to admit, she had a pretty good taste in fashion.

She and your father had been dating for years, but they wanted to wait a while before getting married. You guess your father needed time to get over your mother's death. He DID love her a lot. It was surprising how quickly your father met her after you mom died. Come to think of it, it was kinda suspicious... Then again, your father was really depressed. Maybe he just needed someone to be there with him.

Well, it was too late now, anyways. You've been staring off into space for so long, you don't even realize that the ceremony's almost over. Your father and the baroness are just finishing their vows right now. When the priest tells them that they can kiss, you quickly look away. You don't want to see that! That would be gross!

After the ceremony is over, the reception begins. There's food, dancing, and entertainment planned. You wonder if they had all this at your mother's after party as well. Dinner is first, and once everyone is seated, people start to make speeches. Once the speeches are made, everyone begins to eat. It's mostly seafood, as requested by your new stepmother. No octopus or squid though. She would absolutely refuse to have it served. She said it reminded her of an old pet she had when she was younger.

For the dances, your father and new mother obviously had the first one. After that, everyone started taking partners and dancing to the music. Later on, my father announced it was time for cake and motioned for everyone to sit back down again. The cake was decorated with candy flowers and (surprise, surprise) pink and white icing. It was delicious though, so you weren't bothered by it. After all, who complains about cake? Your father thanked everyone for being at the wedding, and so did your stepmother.

Once the party is done and everyone leaves, you go back up to your bedroom. Soon, your father and his new bride will go on their honeymoon. You think they're going to somewhere with a beach? It was, once again, by your new stepmother's request. Your father really liked to please her. Sighing, you change and flop onto your bed, too tired from the events of this day to do anything else but sleep.


Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and for once, you don't think black is a good colour on you.

You are now 7 years old, and it is September 9th. The clouds are dark and grey, heavy with rain. It has been a little more than a year since your father has been married to his pink and black obsessed wife.

Or in this case, widow.

You're outside, standing by a coffin, your father lying in it, motionless. Your stepmother stands beside you, sniffling and trying to act strong. You are doing so with a bit more effort. Probably because right now, you feel empty inside.

It's different compared to your mother's funeral. You never knew your mother, apart from the stories you father used to tell you about her (no, wait, stop thinking about good memories with your father, you have to stay strong). You were also too young to remember her funeral, so it didn't affect you as much.

Your father, on the other hand, you knew all too well. You remember him greeting you at the breakfast table with a big smile on his facing, asking you what you'd want for breakfast and if you had a good night's sleep. You remember telling him about your dreams and nightmares, and how he would react in each situation. You remember him taking time out of his busy schedule to play with you and read you stories. You remember crawling into his bed and sleeping next to him if you ever got scared at night. You remember him tucking you into bed at the end of the day, no matter how tired he was. You remember him telling you how he loved you, and that he was so proud of you.

People are making speeches on how great your father was, how he was an amazing ruler, a good king, a kind person. Your stepmother talks about how he was a great husband, even for the short time that they were married. When it's your turn, you slowly step up and begin to talk.

"First of all, I would like to thank all of you who came here, and to everyone who made a speech. I'm sure my father would have appreciated it very much.", I began.

"You may all know this man as your king, but I knew him as more. I knew him as a parent. I lived with him. I got to see and know his true self. I shared many memories with him, memories that I will treasure forever. I never knew my mother, and to make up for that, my father raised me as best as he could by himself. For that I am truly thankful. He will always be with me in my heart, no matter what. I... I just wish we didn't have to part ways so soon."

Slowly but surely, my voice started to tremble. I had to stay strong though. I continued on, trying to keep face throughout. As I finished, I walked up to face the coffin, and put my hand on its side, staring at my father's unmoving corpse.

"Goodbye dad." I whisper, the tears finally becoming too much for me to bear, spilling down my cheeks and onto my dress as I crumble to the floor, sobbing.

Servants have to pick me up and pull me away from the coffin as they slowly take it away, close it, and descend it into the earth. As this is happening, the clouds decide to give in as well, and after a little dribble, it starts to pour. Some people go off to take shelter, but I stay there, kneeling on the ground, not caring if my dress got dirty or not, watching as my father's coffin disappears from sight forever.

After a few minutes, I feel a hand on my shoulder. Looking up, I see my stepmother staring down at me sadly with bloodshot eyes and messy hair.

"It'll be okay," she says shakily, "It'll all be okay."

Slowly, she pulls me into a hug. After a few seconds of standing there, shocked, I gradually hug her back. and continue crying into her shoulder. I didn't expect her to do this. After months of sugary sweet smiles that were quite suspicious, and numerous amounts of gifts and favours, I had thought she was trying too hard. I didn't really trust her because of that. Right now though, she seems so sincere as she pets my hair and shooshes me softly, telling me that everything would be okay. After a few minutes, she pulls me back and looks at me in the eyes.

"I know this is hard for the both of us but we're going to have to move on... The kingdom still needs a ruler. We must both be strong for... For our people. I-it's what I think he would have wanted..." She explained, turning her head to look at my father, her husband's, grave.

She looked back at me sadly. Then, she sighed and stood up straight, gaze now determined.

"You may go back to your room for now. I have some matters that need to be discussed with the royal court, but I think I need a moment to compose myself a bit more." She stated curtly, and briskly walked away.

I pulled myself up off the ground and brushed some of the dirt off my dress. If my stepmother could be strong in front of others, so could I. Standing as regally as I possibly could in this situation, I walked away, attempting to copy her.

...

You are the queen, and you are SUCH a good actor.

You're sitting in your room, in front of your vanity mirror, thinking about all of the deeds you have done while combing your long, purposefully messy hair.

First, you convinced the king that you were in love and interested in him. Then, you persuaded him to marry you, and to make sure you had him wrapped around your finger, you gave some simple commands that he followed like an eager puppy. With a loving honeymoon full of (ugh) romance and laughter, you had him eating out of the palm of your hand. Next, you gained the trust of all the people in the kingdom, which was now yours for the taking.

Your biggest feat of all though, was you managing to convince everyone that you were heartbroken with just a few simple tears and sniffles at the funeral. It was all too easy. And his daughter, oh, she was a bit tougher to crack, but she wouldn't be a problem now. Not after you comforted her in her time of desperate need, her only true parental figure gone from this world.

You smile wickedly at yourself as you re-apply your makeup and dress yourself to look beautiful, but still slightly disheveled from the "unexpected" turn of events.

Whipping around, you head to the door and open it slowly, ready to talk to the royal court about the events to come. Before you leave, you take one last look at the room you shared with your beloved husband. You look at the queen sized bed, the shared drawers, the bathroom, everything.

I'm going to make some definite changes around here. You think to yourself, before walking out of the room and slamming the door behind you.

A/N: If you don't understand the dress talk, you can go here: post/69685663650/diy-know-your-dress-shape-guide