~on the roles of princess and queen~
Best served cold
She first felt it at the wedding. Fluttering into the crevasses of her heart that only death could leave behind, it came on wings of shadows. She couldn't really put a name to it. (but she felt it grow, like a malignant tumour, and swallow the globes of light that lit up the palace of her heart)
It flowed, up arteries and windpipe and out of lips as red as blood. Dimly, she heard her own voice. Impassive. Cold.
Dead.
As she condemned the woman, who was once her mother, to dance in iron shoes welded to her feet till her life ended. Punishment, for trying to kill her. (she was justified in her actions, the shadows cried)
The castle press release spent an entire night making sure the guests would not say anything against their new queen. At all costs.
Just married
She realises that her blood is cold and she hates the sun the bright blue sky and all she wants to tear it down scratch holes in it so that shadows the shape of death can mute the bright, garish colours that hurt her eyes and ears and nose and make her angry and frustrated and not like a princess at all and the flowers wilt at her touch the animals run away at the sight of her and the dwarves have forgotten her name and the servants whisper when her back's turned.
She thinks of it as a conspiracy to drive her out of the castle.
Nursery rhyme
The girl he brought back had long, golden hair that reached down to her waist and eyes the colour of the sky on a cloudless day.
He said her mother had died and she would live in the castle with them. (there was, of course, no talk of her status. it was called 'princess')
Later, she learnt that the 'mother' he referred to was a previous wife, a commoner whom his own mother had proclaimed unfit to be queen and banished from the country.
He remained suitably distressed, of course, but that didn't prevent him from scouring the land for another woman to warm his bed.
She watched, helpless, as he led his daughter away.
Soundless Scream
"Ella...my beautiful Ella...do you know how much you look like your mother?"
"No, my dear child, not that woman who sleeps with me. How can she be compared to you, fair child?"
"Hush, darling. There's nothing to fear. Daddy loves you. Stay with me tonight, Ella, so that Daddy may protect you."
"Good girl."
(she stood outside the room and sowed seeds of jealousy, watching as dark flowers pushed their way out of her heart and bore fruits of hate)
Apples
were so passé, she thought, and inefficient. She wanted something that worked faster. Like crushed oleander seeds, or even wasp-killers.
In her underground chamber, she smiled to herself.
~end~
