This is my new home, my new surroundings. Everything is different here. There are so many bright and wonderful tones and colours. I remember vividly the silver glow at home that never died, yet here at night everything is pitch black. I want to go home. The Moon Kingdom constantly shines through my window, warming my face. This is only my second day here! How will I cope with the rest of my life?
I have not met the prince. Many say he is a solitary man, often away hunting or studying for many hours, not even present for dinner most nights. We are to be wed tomorrow, and I suppose the first time I will see him will be at the altar. It would be nice to talk with him before then, but as the sun sets I feel that is less likely. I have accepted that love is not essential in a marriage but I hope to at least find some mutual respect, or understanding. That will make the years pass quicker I think.
Behind me the door opened. I sensed it more than I heard it. I held myself still as if I was still engrossed within my writing, but my heart was racing. Who could that be at?
'Princess Serenity?' a man's voice, deep and steady. At my name I turned. In the doorway stood a young gentleman dressed in unadorned courtly clothes, yet it was his eyes that captivated me. So deep, so dark but with a glitter of moonlight within them. His face was fair, framed by his fluffy, ebony hair. Here was Prince Endymion, heir to the throne of earth.
Our eyes meet and locked. The silence between us thickened; only the steady thump of my heart kept my senses as I observed his statue, the slimness of his waist yet the firmness of his muscles. I was awe-struck.
'I thought I should greet you informally before our union tomorrow.' With that he bowed, and I hastily returned the gesture. He suddenly spun and exited the room.
How strange. I have just laid eyes on the prince and although he is very handsome I sense that he is cold and distant. What was the purpose of his greeting? Why leave it the evening before our union? It is now the early hours of the mourning and the moon gleams brightly in the night sky. I leave my window open so I can feel the moonlight fresh on my skin. My life is so different to how I planned it. But at least here on earth I can live a peaceful, contented life. I can make a difference in one way or another.
Why does writing this no longer convince me?