"You might as well try not to be as miserable as you are right now," Owen told me.

We were eating dinner in the dining hall, and we were seated next to each other. Before dinner, I had locked myself up in my room, refusing to listen to anybody. This was right after Mother and Father told me about their atrocious plans. Of course too many people had already knocked on my door, coaxing me to come out. All their attempts just drove me further into seclusion. Aunt Vanessa knocked on the door, and said that she would take me to the Ayorthaian plaza to shop with her. When she said that, I promised myself that I would never come out of the room until she was finished with her shopping. There was nothing worse than shopping with Aunt Vanessa. She was overly energetic that I couldn't keep up with her. Mother knocked on the door, and said that she would show me a childhood treasure to make me feel better. I didn't say anything. Childhood treasure or not, nothing would make up with what they had planned for me, unless they withdrew it. Tristan thought it was a really funny joke though. He knocked on the door and said the castle was on fire. I screamed at him, "What in damnation do you take me for?" Of course he didn't give up even though I was cursing him already.

"What had gotten into you? Locking yourself up in that room for no particular reason?" he demanded.

"Oh dear, apparently, people would just fake their ignorance rather than admit it," I retorted.

"You think I actually know something?" was his answer from behind the closed door.

I dismissed his admission of ignorance as a joke. I didn't care whether or not they were lying or no. Although there was a possibility that he really did didn't know. But what was the matter? Tristan was just one person amidst millions. I didn't come out till nightfall, and was determined to get through the night without stepping out of this voluntary prison.

But my stomach began to rumble and ache. There was only air inside. When a young serving girl knocked on my door and said in a humble lilting voice that dinner was ready, I stood up, opened the door, and went straight to the dining room. I was crazy enough to lock myself up in one room for half a day, but I was not crazy enough to deprive myself of health!

Although I indeed wanted to eat, the Ayorthaians' belief "If there is too much, do not add to it" did not apply to the dining room. Apparently, too much was not enough in this place. I front of me was my plate piled with food I couldn't possibly finish. There was a small mound of peas and carrots, piling on top of one another, screaming salvation from the hungry mouth. There was also another mound of mashed potatoes marinated in gravy with the viscosity of water. When I popped it in my mouth I knew that it needed more salt and pepper. I held my breath and painstakingly swallowed it. The main dish in my plate was this huge sliver of deer that should be given to a giant, not a girl who naturally has a small appetite. The steak was so big that I could almost see the little nerves interlocking to create the blood vessels of the now dead animal. The goblet was also of no consolation. It was large and deep, abysmal almost. And whenever I drank from it—just a little sip—a serving man would come from behind and replenish the goblet of its lost miniscule drop of liquid.

To make matters worse, I was seated next to Owen, one of the last people I would want to be seated next with.

"You knew about it," I accused.

He nodded. "Of course I knew. And I certainly know that you are going to Wistria. After all, you wouldn't lock yourself up in your room if you weren't forced to that." At that moment, I swore I wanted to jump up, shake him, and then watch him choke on the vegetables he was trying to eat. He had audacity to say it to my face that he did knew something and he didn't do anything to stop them, when he could anyways.

I glared at him. "You might as well try not to make me miserable. I'm going to be sent into this wicked place of rigid rules and regulations, roving, scrutinizing, evaluation, and criticizing eyes, sugar-coated giggles of the snide harpies, and worst of all, complete isolation from the real world, which by the way does not concern any kind of fashionable gown. And all the while I'm stuck in this forced feminine utopia blanketed by masses of violet wisteria flowers, the whole world would leave me behind and take its normal voyage through time. Wistria is an evil, demonic place not befitting for someone who needs fresh air!"

He laughed. "What makes you say that Wistria is absolutely horrendous? If so, then why do many ladies yearn to be there? And if so, why are they not leaving that 'forced feminine utopia' witless and crazy? Besides, Wistria will do you good with regards to your shrewish manner. Maybe then you would be worthy of your title." He grinned at me. I didn't grin back.

"I beg your pardon? I don't care whether or not I'm the weed or flower of Kyrria, and mind you I'm not very enthusiastic with actually fulfilling that so-called glorious title that everybody should try to covet."

"Why shouldn't you? After all, you're just a step away from—"

"Tell me what makes you think that I'm actually taking steps to get to it??" I interjected.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Showing yourself to everyone."

"WHAT?" I hissed. "Well, I guess you too are the flower of Kyrria, especially with your exposure to all walks of life. I suppose many ogresses would love to get their hands you," I added sarcastically.

He smiled mirthlessly. "I'm sorry but I failed to see what is so humorous about that."

"It's not meant to be humorous if you think it is. And I suppose all your laughing explains that you think my situation is actually funny. Well it's not. You are all keeping something from me. It's unfair. How would you feel if you were cut off from everything?"

"Why do you have to know everything?" Owen replied, irate.

I rolled my eyes. "It seems to me that I'm in the middle of this so maybe I do have the right to know."

"Whatever you do, you won't know. We don't want you to now. Because if you do know, you'll just lose your mind. We don't want that to happen. And you do know that you are going to Wistria no matter what."

"What makes you so sure that I'm going to lose my wits over this?" I shot back. "You don't know the future, only gnomes do."

"Gnomes don't. They only see outlines."

"But that is not the point. You're being impertinent! Why can't you just enlighten me? Right now I'm losing my wits because of this…" I suddenly played with a pea on my plate.

"Look. It's not something you would want to know."

I sighed. "It's not something I wouldn't want to know. It's something you all wouldn't want me to know."

"Why are you so persistent when you know that all your attempts will be futile? You will just tire yourself wondering, as you are tiring me with your repetitious rambling." He decided to ignore me and gave his attention to his plate of food.

So that's how it was going. Everybody would just keep on ignoring poor Catleya's naiveté. 

~*~

For the next three days, the Ayorthaian court could only wonder what happened to the Kyrrian princess. She was suddenly quiet, locking herself up in the guest room or wandering in the gardens. But it was not like they complained about it. They wouldn't even talk, so why open their mouths when they could just keep it shut? The Ayorthaian court wondered whiled the Kyrrian royal family knew more than they did. Much, much more. Father and Mother tried their best to reason with me. They kept on telling me, day in and day out, that it was for my own good. But they never told me how. This was all a huge circle of secrecy. And now, we were to leave Ayortha, and they would just wonder.

Eventually, the day came when we did have to leave Ayortha. Mother had instructed me to pack my things the night before. She was blasé and direct: something I rarely see, mainly because Mother was more often than not too happy to care. Her blasé was not a big surprise for me, considering that I was treating her—along with everybody else—the same nonchalance she was treating me. She must have thought that she could fight fire with fire, or in this case, ice with ice. Although her disposition towards me was certainly uncanny, it didn't bother me one bit. Father, Mother and Owen were all gearing into the road of trying to snap the sense into me. Well, it would be so easy to accomplish. If they simply give up their trivialities and tell me what was the matter.

I had finished packing my things by the end of the morning, which left me ample time to take one last long look at the Ayorthaian castle. For some strange reason, I would be missing it terribly. This feeling was in stark contrast to my past sentiments about this place. Before, I had wanted so much to flee this place the moment I had stepped on its soil. Yet now, I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay where I was.

The reason behind this feeling was a stranger to me. As I walked in the labeled and themed gardens of Ayortha, I tried to draw my own conclusions.

"I probably loved the food," I murmured to myself. "But then…it did lack salt and pepper. Besides, Mandy's cooking cannot be surpassed. The room? The people? Most likely I just hate leaving. Yes, maybe because I hate traveling…especially long distances—"

Someone chuckled. "Talking to yourself now, Catleya?" I turned, and saw Tristan, with a grin brightening his features. I swore I could have punched his too-happy face.  "I was wondering why you haven't been doing so before, considering that you refuse to talk to anyone."

"I wondered why you aren't, considering that you should have been deposited to a loony bin," I shot back. I raised an eyebrow. Tristan was looking splendidly, annoying, as usual. I didn't fail to notice the just as stunning blonde standing right next to him. Her hand was squeezing his arm too tightly, but she was smiling pleasantly. For some reason, I wanted to box her ears and make her face blue and black. Good heavens! When did these murderous and violent thoughts become a tendency? I smiled back at her. "Care to introduce me to your friend?"

He nodded. "rincess Catleya, meet a rather special lady, the Lady Amara of Evole."

The little lady curtsied perfectly and said in a very feminine and dainty voice, "Pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Princess Catleya."

I wanted to bite her head off because of all the lady frou-frou and manner she was presenting to me. She reminded me of Wistria, that damnable place where I was condemned to be confined till the end of my sane days.

"Honestly, Tristan, you don't have to charm some girl just to make me think that a lady would actually put up with your childishness." There was something incredibly wrong with my senses today that I had just taken back the concrete notion that Tristan actually grew up. He did, and it made me wonder why in the world I was actually doing this.

Lady Amara looked at me with her doe-like amber eyes. "Your Highness, you must have been mistaken."

Tristan laughed mirthlessly. "Catleya, Catleya. Confinement and silence must have finally taken over your sensibility. Lady Amara and I have met a year ago while I was staying in Wistria before traveling to yet another kingdom. The only reason why Lady Amara had not been present in the past few days is because she had been in Wistria, finishing the studies she had begun two years ago. She just returned."

I cocked an eyebrow again. "Wistria?" I sighed. "I knew I had recognized that flawless manner." Lady Amara beamed. I groaned inwardly. It would be an insult to my humanity to dampen the spirits of this woman. Besides, I knew Tristan wanted to see me blow up. "I commend you, Lady Amara, for finally completing the course of learning you had endured in Wistria."

"Thank you," she replied, a brilliant smile making her features more unbearably perfect. Her dimples were absolutely charming. "My parents had wished me to attend Wistria, and I too had wished to enter the prestige school." I scanned her up and down, hoping to find even just a tiny flaw in her—dirt in her gown, a misplaced golden lock, maybe a blemish in her porcelain skin. None. I groaned inwardly again. How could Tristan ever get a prize such as this lady? He didn't deserve her. Tristan deserved someone who could knock some sense into the mind that had been mucked up with immaturity.

Good heavens! I've been ranting in my mind about Tristan's utter stupidity when just yesterday I had explicitly admitted to myself that he was no longer the devil!

"Oh" was the only thing I could say. Damn Lady Amara! She had reminded me about my fate in a few more days. Soon, I would have to be as cultured as her, bound by conformity and manners.

Lady Amara looked behind her shoulder. She then immediately and effortlessly swept that faultless curtsy. "I'm sorry, Princess Catleya. Tristan." She had addressed him so casually! Then, it was true, and there was to be no denying that Lady Amara was indeed more than just a courtier to Tristan's eyes. I wished a pox on her. But her apologetic smile to my direction almost instantly eradicated that dastardly thought. "I am indeed very remorseful. Lady Inani requests my presence in the conservatory to help her with the piano." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Tristan on the cheek. "Pleased to meet you, Princess Catleya."

For some reason, this affectionate scene made blood rush to my cheeks. Tristan had been surprised too, except that he hid his quite well. We were speechless as Lady Amara turned her back and left us, her hips and derriere swaying provocatively. Tristan eyed her as he left; there was a mischievous gleam in his azure eyes. I glared at him, disgusted at this little act.

I crossed my arms over my chest and sneered, "Where did you get the trophy?"

 Tristan glanced at me with amusement in his eyes. "Are you deaf? Wistria, as I have said before."

I raised an eyebrow. "Maybe but I really think you deliberately brought her to my face to annoy me."

He glared back at me. "Unbelievable, Catleya. I won't go to such a hard time just to annoy you. I assure you, my sentiments are with you. And why the doubt over Amara's background? She is from Wistria, and just recently. And we did meet there."

"In addition, the two of you happened to maintain a harmonious long-distance relationship which obviously was difficult considering that during that epoch you weren't in one place too long."

He sighed. "I know one could be led to dubiousness but it is true."

"Only a friend?" The only thing to back this was that Lady Amara had kissed his cheek, something that friends don't normally do.

"Yes." His azure eyes twinkled teasingly. He grinned smugly at me for some reason.

"I don't believe you," I concluded.

He scoffed, "Then don't. It wouldn't matter at all. And why the interest in Amara? Amara is, after all, just another Ayorthaian noble in your eyes, nothing more, and nothing less. You shouldn't endeavor to delve deeply in our relationship, if you're aware of the effort you would be wasting." Suddenly, his expression changed from annoyed to curious. "But why the interest, indeed. You can't be envious, are you?"

My jaw dropped. "There are other more deserving people to be jealous about, and you, Tristan, are at the end of the list."

He chuckled. "I must be jesting myself. You aren't jealous of me. You're jealous of Amara, the poor girl. But who wouldn't be? Considering that she is a fine specimen of the female gender. Someone farther along the road of success than you."

"I don't need a finishing school to push me forward, Tristan," I answered. "But don't trouble yourself with me. I'm about to leave in two hours time. Don't squander away your duende on me."

He smiled, but sadly now. It was then I knew that he had stopped teasing me, and finally turned into the sensible young man. "Are you sure you really are leaving in two hours?"

I nodded. "I wouldn't be taking my last glimpse of Ayortha if I weren't." I sighed. "I'd rather be here for a whole year than be in Wistria for even just a week."

"Why not? I have heard many impressive stories of the women who enter Wistria. Catleya, you shouldn't be sour on attending such a school. It would be an honor for Wistria, and a delight for your people."

I laughed bitterly. "Now they delight in my misery. Such loving and loyal Kyrrian subjects I have."

"How sure are you you're going to have such a miserable time?" he shot back.

"Oh, then you actually think that wearing frilly gowns and practicing binding manners would actually be enjoyable? I'm sorry Tristan but I'd rather be a wild woman in the woods rather than be the prim and proper princess chained by conformity."

He grinned. "Strong words for a person about to be sent to meek place."

"Strong words for a person about to lose her sanity."

Tristan shook his head. "You must be kidding me, Catleya. If you really do feel that Wistria would be utterly deplorable to both your sanity and psyche, why in the world are you still a princess going for the road of primness and propriety, and certainly not a wild woman in the woods? You are deceiving yourself. You want to go to Wistria. I know you well enough that if you want something done as powerfully as you claim to now, you would have done so a long time ago. But you are not."

"I don't want to go to Wistria," I clarified, firmly this time. "And the only thing that's stopping me from doing what I want to do is that title preceding my name."

He looked at me incredulously. "You mean to say that you don't want to be a princess?" he asked sternly.

I scowled at him, trying to fire up rebelliousness in my eyes. "Yes. I don't want to be."

"Unbelievable. How can you not see the benefits of being royalty?"

I stared at him hotly. "You're trying to lure me with the privileges of being one? The perks of actually having the right on stepping all over a whole kingdom? The riches, the power, the influences, the—"

"No—"

"—I had thought you had turned into someone who was actually decent and civilized! But now I realized how terribly mistaken I was—" 

I was shouting at him, and the only way he might have thought to stop me was to grab hold of my shoulders and shake me. "I wasn't telling you that the only matter about royalty worth acknowledging is the 'perks' as you labeled them. I meant to say that being a princess gives you the ultimate opportunity to actually make things right. Not all people have to power to influence the lives of many."

He made sense but not enough sense to actually put me to sense. "You don't understand, Tristan. How can you actually do all those charitable deeds when you despise the situation you are in?"

"Conformity is a small price to pay for all the good you can do."

"That is incredibly noble of you, Prince of Ayortha. But frankly, I don't see much point of doing something benevolent acts to the people who put me into unhappiness—unhappiness as in being unable to actually act on your own accord without eyes surrounding you."

He shook his head. "Catleya, I didn't think you could be that selfish. You are denying yourself the chance because you think they are treating you unfairly?" I could note in his tone that he was rather furious. "Did it ever occur to you, Princess of Kyrria, that they don't mean to be so scrutinizing?"

"No, it didn't," I replied haughtily. "And you might as well deal with, Tristan. Nothing will change my mind about royalty—" 

 He shot back, "And nothing you will do will change you form being one—"

 "What in damnation do you care anyway? This is my problem not yours! Whether or not I fully accept my obligation as a sovereign should not matter you being that you are a river away from my kingdom."

"It matters to me because I think it's my duty to put some logic into your mind before anybody would come to realize your irrationality! The reason why they are so prying is because it's a check and balance system. They keep tabs on you, and you would have to do your best for them, and in return they will do their best for you!"

"See?" I almost screamed. "You pointed it out yourself! Now, I am indebted to the whole of Kyrria simply because they can't keep my eyes off me!" I groaned. "That is it. I am finished talking with you, Tristan. I am sick and tired of people always sticking their noses into my business, when they themselves don't let me stick my nose into their business which wholly includes me."

Tristan glared back at me. "I don't know what you are talking about. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not keeping any knowledge that I might have come across with regards to your deportation to Wistria. The only reason why I'm endeavoring to make you see some sense is because a whole kingdom is in your hands. You can't possibly do the best for your own kingdom when you don't even care a tad bit for it."

"I do care about Kyrria, you incorrigible cad! It's just that I don't want this onerous duty of being a princess!"  By this time, I could no longer take it. He was right, and I knew that there was no other truth to what he was saying. I was being selfish, unreasonable. But my pride got the better of me, and instead of making amends to the person who helped make Ayortha a place worthwhile, I stomped away from, refusing to hear another word from the voice that meant so much to me.

~*~

The trip to Wistria was not something of note, as nothing really did happen. I still refused to talk to my parents. Owen tried to get me to do so but he just couldn't. Yes, indeed, the trip to Wistria was solemn and silent, with me being indifferent to my family for the rest of the journey.

Although the journey to Wistria was tedious and uneventful, our arrival in the condemnable school of conformity was rather amusing. It was so because no one had really expected Wistria to be so grand. Owen had shown his surprise more clearly than ours.

Owen could hardly believe his eyes when the gates of the Wistrian Ladies' Finishing School opened. He had expected the place to be small, accommodating, and simple. Especially not ostentatious, verdant, and elaborate. The gates were made out of wrought iron, heated and coiled into spirals that danced. There were topiaries of great many things sharing a common theme: femininity. The school looked like an estate already, with two visible terraces and large windows with stained glass lunettes. The damnable place also lived up to the name it was derived from. Wisterias hang from the balconies, waterfalls of verdant leaves and colorful petals.

Mother groaned. "Why is it that this finishing school is delightful-looking, whilst the finishing school I had sadly attended was bland?" she remarked.

I wanted to snap at her, tell her that there was nothing delightful about an estate that definitely emanated the vibes of a strict housing. Mother had glanced at me, probably hoping against all odds that I might actually open my mouth. I was still implementing to myself the code of no communication; and I am not one to break promises that I myself had instigated. Instead, I sat up stiff and haughtily, obviously confirming her notions of not speaking with her.

When we had reached the cursed entrance, no one had to push me out of the carriage. I had resolved to come there willingly yet bitterly. I didn't want to argue with them anymore, knowing all too well that my saliva would be severely wasted because they wouldn't budge. I would show them my misery of having to accept defeat, and eventually their conscience would make them feel blameworthy. It was cruel of me, but yes, I wanted them to rot in their guilt.

"Your Highnesses!!" two ladies chirped simultaneously. But it sounded horrible. One of the ladies sounded like a frog, and the other sounded like a lion. They had come out of the grand doors of Wistria. And I simply have to mention the embellished engraving on the door: a large ornamentally flourished W with wisterias falling over it gracefully. There were two lovely ladies at each side of the large door, and apparently, these engraved wooden ladies were the inanimate ones to welcome to guests. Frankly, I would much rather have these wooden engravings spring to life and greet thus (much to my shock and eventual panic) than have these two present ladies come.

We were met by two opposite ladies. The first was buxom and a distressingly tall woman that put Father and Owen—two of the tallest people I had met—to shame. She was a large woman, with fat rosy cheeks yet kind round eyes. The skirt of her gown reached an unbelievable diameter around her, and her voluptuousness was held on by a tight corset. But instead of getting attention of her chest, it actually made her "treasures" (as I would so often call them) mountains over flatlands. Apparently, everything about her was round. The second lady was short and skinny as a pen. Whilst the other lady was all round, this one was all…triangles. Her hair was done in a pyramid like bun, her eyes high on the lids, her lips pursed in a flattop pointed smile, her nose straight, hook, and sharp, and goodness! even her gown was triangular with a wide bodice abruptly ending in a point at her waist.

Don't despise them, Catleya. You know that these two ladies are not the ones responsible for your current situation. Who knows? Maybe they will be the ones to actually make you feel better about being in this place.

Yes…don't hate them. Like them. After all, they haven't done anything to you. Yet.

Good gracious. My silence had eventually led to my talking to my conscience. Oh well…certain actions do have repercussions…

And for supposedly society engrossed ladies, they are very well out of fashion. Pointed bodices and wide skirts are banished from Kyrria. if And if my memory serves me, this kind of clothing is popular in Ayortha, which is very far away from Wistria and Kyrria! That's why I'm wearing a morning gown with a high waistline—the current fashion in Kyrria. Good grief! These ladies who claim to know society don't know them as well as they should! Why in the world should I study with big hypocrites? What in tarnation will I learn? Nothing!

The round one went forward first. "Lady Ophelia, at your service, Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses." Her voice was as round as her.

The pointy one came forward second. "Lady Quenby, Your Highnesses. And we," she gestured at Lady Ophelia and her, "are the mistresses of Wistria. The prime ladies, as some might say." Her voice was croaky…

Mother and I curtsied while Father and Owen bowed. I noticed Lady Quenby eyeing me with disdain…must be because of my scowling face.

"I expect you know the reason of our arrival," Father said.

Lady Ophelia curtsied. "Yes, Your Highness. And we are truly aware that it is protection that you wish for your daughter."

I shot a look at Father. These two weird ladies knew and they were strangers to our family, yet I, the one wholly in the middle of all this muck, was not aware?? What kind of stupid logic was this??

No Catleya. Do not argue with your dear Father. Silence…

"And we are pleased with all our hearts to have our usual lady sovereign in our dear Wistria. Unfortunately, it was skipped some years ago," Lady Quenby told us. Buher eyes lingered at Mother for some time, meaning that it was her she was referring to.

"We will make sure Princess Catleya would have a wonderful time in Wistria," Lady Ophelia added.

Father nodded. "I am assured of this fact. Now, if you give us some time alone…" Before Father finished his sentence, Ladies Ophelia and Quenby had already curtsied and left.

The three of them turned on me.

Father was the one speaking. "We know you still aren't speaking with us…" I eyed them with widened eyes, feigning innocence. "…and I suppose we understand it." He then embraced me. I remained stiff in his arms, not returning his fatherly affection. As far as I was concerned, I despised them all. "But I promise you that all will reveal itself in due time. But not now. We cannot risk your reaction to this situation."

I raised an eyebrow. Mother then spoke. "Catleya. We love you with all our hearts and would never deliberately hold knowledge from you unless it is called for. Unless…someone's life depended on it."

Ah! Now someone's life became an excuse! I bit my lip. The least they could do was give me plausible reasons, not stupid, unbelievable ones.

Seeing my nonchalance, Father and Mother shook their heads. They each kissed my cheeks, and said goodbye. They knew that I could be as hard as a rock if I wanted to, and it would take a lot to get me out of my decision. They knew that it was futile to try to compromise and that if they forced me to do so, it would only make matters worse. The only solution they could find in this predicament was to step back and wait for me to soften a bit. And this was what they did.

Owen watched our parents retreat to the carriage. He glared at me. "Don't be a cad, Catleya. You know they wouldn't be like that if the reasons weren't valid."

I raised an eyebrow. How dare he try to convince me that it was all good! He had no idea how vulnerable and isolating my situation so he had no right to lecture me about being a cad or valid reasons! No right at all! In fact, they were the ones who were being cads. They had no regard for what I was feeling. They didn't care whether or not I was ignorant. If I were a cad, then what were they?

When they did all leave, eventually, Lady Quenby and Lady Ophelia came out of the estate. They waved farewell to the departing carriage more enthusiastically than I—if I did wave. But I didn't, actually. I just stared at the coach with the royal emblem go smaller with every step of the horses. I wouldn't see them for a long time, but I supposed that it would be an adequate duration of time to help me forgive them. I hated myself for feeling this way. Hating someone—an acquaintance, perchance—was acceptable, but hating a family member was unsettling. It was especially unsettling if you hated all of them. They were the people you have lived with all your life, the people who helped mold you into who you were, the people you were probably most grateful to for giving you a life, a home, and a self. Yet none of this gratitude was seen through my actions. How could it be so easy to loathe the image of the same people who garnered the reins of your past? Was it really lack of love, or maybe stubborn idiocy? And if so, whose fault really was it? Was I the wrong one, to be mulish and ungrateful, or my family, to be unreasonable and closed? But right now, I didn't have any idea who was at fault. I didn't even have a concrete idea why hating them came to me so naturally, when in the past I had forgiven them for other trespasses. But as far as I was concerned, I wouldn't forgive them just yet. Not yet.

"Your Highness, Princess Catleya," Lady Quenby murmured with awe, "we are more than honored to have you here in Wistria."

"And as the ladies of Wistria, we shall endeavor to make this experience a memorable one," Lady Ophelia added. "Now, come, Your Highness. We shall escort you to the room where you would lodge during the duration of your stay."

Lady Ophelia took hold of my right hand, while Lady Quenby took my other. "You will be pleased with your room, Princess Catleya. It is, after all, the lodgings of your ancestors. Queen Amelia, Queen Daria, Princess Cecilia, and your other royal female ancestors stayed there. Except Queen Ella, though. Her Royal Highness was educated in a finishing school in Jenn. A pity she was not finished here."

"What do you do here?" I asked.

Lady Ophelia and Lady Quenby looked at each other. Their faces were appalled with my gall, or maybe my lack of subtlety on questioning. Good grief, I might as well bite holes on my tongue if subtlety and tact should be apparent in every word.

Lady Quenby replied dryly, obviously not pleased with me, "We shall instruct you in the mannerism of court, the domestic duties of a lady, and most importantly, the virtues that you should be epitomize in all your actions."

I nodded. "And what if I already know how to?"

The two ladies looked again at each other. "We are sorry to only inform you on this," Lady Ophelia began, "but our disposition towards you shall be that of a real mistress, a teacher, a governess. You are no higher than any of the girls in this institute. You shall be treated as an equal lady. And no matter how boorish you would act, or how remarkably diligent you are, we shall see fit to alter our disposition towards you. It must be clear to you, Princess Catleya, that in this institute, all the ladies are unfinished—including you—and it is our utmost duty to finish these girls into the ladies that they are meant to be."

"Ah, so this means that you wouldn't address me with 'Your Royal Highness' of 'Princess' every single minute of the day?" I inquired brazenly. It would be pure entertainment to irritate these ladies! Maybe this was the hidden reason why I was here. Maybe it was the will of the fates for me to be sent here, to put some sense into their manner-clouded minds. "And does this also mean that every single girl in this school would not curtsy every time I look at them?"

Lady Quenby stared at me. I swore she could croak any moment with her surprise. "Certainly. And if you would permit it, we shall call you Catleya from now on."

"Okay."

The two ladies stared at me again. They must be thinking, Good grief this princess has the tongue of a commoner! Must remedy! Must remedy! If I played my cards right, then I could fool them into thinking I really was an ill-mannered boor—which was not true. They would have to advance their endeavors, and have a hard time with me. I was rather incorrigible. Yes, that would be my only entertainment here. These two ladies would waste all their energies on my reformation, which was truly unnecessary. I would be regarded as poorly trained, unfit lady, but anything to annoy these two ladies. Yes, I would go from mannered to ill-mannered frequently, thus confusing their clouded minds. That would surely put some sense in to them.

 "And we shall start by curbing your common language."

"Truly?" I reverted to grandiloquence that was expected of me by being a member of royalty. "I am very apologetic but I had not adumbrated that my compendious verbalization would be cause to debouch such resentment from such respected ladies."

The look on their faces was famous! Lady Quenby's mouth was slightly open, a dubious expression covering her frog-like face. Lady Ophelia was more dramatic. Her eyes were round like plates, and her mouth just as round. I grinned in spite of myself but I managed to make it seem like I was really sincere.

They easily shook themselves out of the momentary surprise.

"Well, it seems that we really don't have to curb your empurpled language," Lady Ophelia admitted.

I decided to ignore them now and take more notice of my surroundings. Wistria was gaudy with many paintings in every wall that it was almost suffocating. And it had wanted to show that it was the epitome of a wisteria. The walls were covered with cream wallpapered with intricate wisterias printed on it. It was exquisite and adorable, but then, the too many paintings just covered too much wall for the wallpaper to be noticed wholly. The large windows each had transom lunettes of stained glass over them. And the design of the glass was—again—a drooping raceme of wisteria. The long corridor in which I was being led to had many doors at the sides, each having a nameplate on the door. The plates contained the names of girls—Claudia, Michelle, Anna, Tanya, and so forth—which I suspected were the ones who lived in the room. The doors were as intricate with wooden carvings of wisterias and a lady in ladylike poses. There were too many wisterias in every turn I make, I couldn't take. I felt that I was being sucked of my energies with the too many wisterias, all crowding around me, refusing to give me a glimpse of another kind of flower!

"The ladies are now in the Coventry garden, enjoying their leisure time," Lady Ophelia informed me when she caught me scrutinizing the nameplates.

Coventry meant the state of being banished or ostracized so it greatly intrigued why the garden was called so. And I said promptly, "Forgive me for being so prying, but pray tell, why it is called Coventry garden, when the meaning of such a word has a very negative connotation."

Lady Quenby smiled, but it didn't give any comfort. "Many ladies before you had asked the same inquiry. 'Tis because we wish the ladies to be isolated or banished from unsatisfactory elements found in this society. The Coventry garden is like a haven for the ladies—a place isolated from the ills of society."

"Here is your room," Lady Ophelia said.

She opened a door with a nameplate already. Catleya was written. The door was just as intricate as the others but this time the wisterias were a roof above the head of a beautifully carved wooden lady. What struck me was the small tiara she was wearing, and the delightful smile playing her features as she gazed up at the roof of wisterias. The small tiara was an indication of royalty, and this room was made precisely for that purpose. I concluded from the smile of the girl face that she was delighted with Wistria. She was gazing adoringly at the wisterias, the symbol of Wistria, and this could very well mean that she adored the place. The wisterias above her could be a significant symbolism. It could mean that the princess was underneath Wistria. I sighed inwardly. This was partly true now. I was at their mercy, and the procession my days highly depended on this damnable place.

But then, maybe it meant that I should be under Wistria, and adore it at the same time. Good grief! Even a door was giving me implied commands!

"We sincerely hope that this room shall please you," Lady Quenby said. "We must leave you now, Catleya. You may go to the Coventry garden afterwards. It is not so difficult to locate. Your luggage is there already, so you would have no problem unpacking. We shall send for a personal maid for you later. Young ladies should never be without a personal maid."

The two ladies left me to open the door. I stared for another time at the door and rolled my eyes. I would definitely not adore this place. I pushed open the door and was greeted with a pleasant surprise.

Thank goodness the room was not purple like the corridors! The walls were white yet with a sky-blue border. Sitting next to each other on the far left was a highboy and closet. Not so far was a dresser I suspected was made out of cast bronze, with a large ornamental mirror. Next to the large windows with white curtains was the canopy bed. It was surprisingly large, with blue sheets and white silk draperies. The carpeted floor was blue also. The window seat situated in a corner window was striped blue and white. Behind a screen was a marble bath.

When the door shut behind me, I almost burst into tears. This place was a little paradise, a place to call my own, yet it was no nepenthe to what I was feeling. I was suddenly frustrated, sorrowful. I kept remembering my parents and Owen, and I bit my lip till it bled to forget about it. I was stuck in a beautiful place, yet it was the last place I wanted to be in. I should love this place. Wistria was hospitable, well-furnished, and polite. They were willing to take me in even if I was most incorrigible and stubborn. But I hated it with all my heart. This was the place that my unreasonable parents had found most convenient to dump me into. Maybe their grounds for sending me here was just a mask to hide the truth that they just wanted to get rid of me, that I was unladylike in their terms. They knew I wouldn't object to their motives if it was for my sake. After all, they knew that I depended on them for everything. I wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for them. I was their onerous responsibility. I needed to be protected buy them and that little fact was enough to be an excuse me to banish me. And it was probably so easy for them to take advantage of that right to protectiveness because they just had to bury in my mind that it was for the best, for "security purposes", for me to comply. But I had not done so, did I? I had been mulish and extremely indomitable. Well, fine! I didn't need them to live in the first place! And if I have to run away and burn this place to the ground to show them that I was every bit as independent as I could be, then I would do it!

But they were right. I lived under their hand. And they didn't need to make excuses to send me here. I had protested with all my might. I had turned to cold shoulder treatments just to get my point across. But none of this was given notice.

The young lady engraved on the door looked up adoringly at the wisterias. And for some reason, I knew that I was supposed to be the young lady, looking up at the loathed wisterias, giving them every bit of my bitter adoration.

What could be worse?

~*~

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S APOLOGY NOTE

Ok…you can reprimand me now. I understand that I was gone for about three months. And I am extremely sorry. I must admit that I had writer's block for some time (hey, no one's immune to that) and that I was indeed to busy for words. And I still am. It's just that I was lucky to have the holiday break free. And for another view of my sked… uhm…studies, exams, play production, trainings, competitions…and I had been writing other stories. Stories that I plan to finish before posting it here in ff.net. I'm so sorry that it took so damn long to upload. That's why I gave you a nice long chappie to compensate. I just hope it is enough. _ I'm so sorry… Hope you like the chapter. Thanks to the reviewers!!

And oki fine…since I HAVE been writing other stories, I'll post another a chapter of it in here. So then you'd see what in the world I had been doing. I will post this story pretty soon. It's going too be finished in about…three more pages. Heheehehe…that's what I've been trying to finish… but it's just so hard to end stories!!

The title of this story is "Flower Among Weeds." It is VERY LOOSELY based on the tale of Cinderella. I'll probably post it on the Fairytales section soon. Have fun. This could help you wait for the next chapter too. =) (",)

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!

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People who didn't know me look at me and think: this girl must have a perfect life.

They judged me with their eyes, and their eyes were wrong.

Many frowned upon me once they knew of reason of my existence. Why did I hate them so, when if it didn't happen, I wouldn't be here? I was made out of wedlock. My mother was the daughter of a rich lord, and my father was the heir to a lower ranked baron. They fell in love even though my mother's parents disapproved of it. Because of their love, I was created. Because of their love, I lived in my mother's womb for two months without a legal father. They were married just to cover me up, so they wouldn't be disgraced. My father's parents were smiling on the day they exchanged their vows because they would gain from my mother's fortune. My mother's parents were frowning on that day because their daughter was married to a poorer man.

They've never told me, but I worked it out myself. I was born seven months after their marriage, which was impossible if I was created on the night of their marriage. I was born a healthy, nine-month old babe.

Not only was I unintentional, my birth rendered my mother barren. She could no longer give birth because it was a challenge to bear me.

I was an accident. I was an unintended. I was their problem. They had to get married early to avoid scandal among society. And my grandparents (on my mother's side) concluded that I was the reason of my mother's downfall. But then, when I grew up, they suddenly forgot that I was.

But despite that, my parents loved me dearly. I was the fruit of their love. I was their little Alva. Father was the one who named me. Despite the fact that he was not as rich as my mother was, he was well educated. He named me Alva, a foreign name meaning light-skinned or white. He named me this because I was light-skinned when I was born. Mother also called me in another name: Celeste. It was because I was ethereal and celestial. She believed that I was the best event in her life.

I loved my parents in return. They treated me fairly and educated me properly. I grew up reading many books. I've read all sorts of them, from fiction to non-fiction. But what I truly love the most was history.

Nothing excites me more than real events written on paper. I've memorized in my head the wars that include my kingdom, Tryla. I could name them—the Rosean, the Miseth, the Etedod, and many more. I've known the societal changes that have happened since I was thirteen. I knew of the slavery that happened in Miseth, the discrimination in Etedod, the historic signing of the peace treaty in Rosea. I was in love in history, and I was sure it would be my only love.

I was an active child. I was imaginative and a daydreamer, which were the two reasons why I wrote stories. I was troublesome and curious. Mother was often enraged when I climbed trees or ran wild. She would lecture me on being a lady, even though I was still eleven. I should have listened. I should have just tried to reach her expectations. If I had kept promises, why did I wait for the fulfillment of the bargain before actually doing my part of the deal?

I realized too late that I shouldn't have. On my eleventh year, Mother died and my life changed drastically.

~

Mother's death was foreseen. Everyday she was dying from a disease that affected few. I asked myself when I learned, "Why did it have to be her, when so many people could've taken her place?" Before the disease claimed her health, she was a socialite. She was gone at night, probably at a party. Before she would go, she would tuck me to bed and kiss my forehead.

Yet, even before the disease, no one close to my family thought my mother would live long. She was sickly but she could be cured. It was just with that disease, a disease with no name and origin, made matters worse. Day by day, she would grow paler. She would have coughing fits when it was either too hot or too cold. Yet she could still lift her head up and be a mother and social butterfly.

I saw the thread of life get thinner and thinner by each passing day.

There was not a day in my life while Mother was still holding on that I didn't cry or bargain for her life. I promised never to climb trees or run wild. I promised to be the little lady that she wished me to be. I even promised to be sick instead of her. I cried because I had to see her suffer. I cried because she was fighting for her health when at the same time, her efforts made her lose it. I cried because I knew that one day, time would stop and suddenly, she would no longer be there.

Then it happened. The feeling was indescribable. It could not be explained in one word. Only a poet could explain it. It was as a part of my heart was taken away. There was a gaping hole in the middle, sucking in all the sadness and keeping it there. There was a shadow in my soul, darkening my days and thoughts. It was unbearable, the loss, the loneliness. What made me feel worse was that I could never get that part back. That I would have to live with a hole in my heart until someone new would fill it up.

When Mother died, Father couldn't accept it. He loved her very much. For days, he couldn't even look at me because I looked so much like her. His sadness made me even sicker inside myself. I couldn't look into the mirror, for I could see my mother's eyes staring back at me. His traveling increased just so he could distract himself from Mother's death. When he was back home, he acted as if I didn't exist, and locked himself up in his own room, lamenting.

When he couldn't even take the mere trace of me in his own home, I was sent to finishing school. I could have hated him for that, but there was no more space in my heart other than sadness. When Mother died, I thought Father would comfort me in my early loss. But he didn't. He sent me away to an unpleasant place just to benefit himself.

Finishing school was not the place I needed to be in this era of melancholy. The ladies there shunned me, saying I was not one of them. I was just too different. The finishing school mistresses were of no consolation. They treated me with coldness. The only thing that made them acknowledged my presence was the fact that they were paid. I couldn't take it—the sadness, the desolation, and the loneliness. I buried myself even more in reading, writing, and drawing. I tried to make myself busy just to keep myself from feeling the dread and the loss. It was in that epoch of despair that I stumbled upon my temporary salvation.

Something more could have been made through Mother's death. With only the two of us left in this world, Father and I could have shared our sadness, and somehow overcome it together. But it didn't happen. We both wallowed in our misery in two separate places, thus prolonging this period for months.

I couldn't let my mother's death be my own ruin. I was determined to reach the light at the end of the tunnel. If Mother could speak to me from death's claim, she would say that I shouldn't let her death be my own suffering. It would only give her more pain, knowing that she left the world with my bliss.

I did it for the love of Mother. I loved her too much to let her be the cause of my own grievances.

I had escaped this challenge quicker than I had expected. But father was not as swift as I was.

I waited until he got away from his melancholy. He realized that I was the only thing left of my mother. He believed that I was the only thing closest to her. He spoiled me even more. He gave me more books and baubles every time he returned from his travels.

But on my fifteenth year, Father came home, not just carrying books and trinkets. In his arms was a new wife, and following them were two young ladies.

I was old enough to understand that he needed someone he could love in a different way. Yet I couldn't understand how he could replace my sweet beloved mother with Lady Lacrecia. There was nothing wrong with her; she was beautiful and educated. But when I laid eyes on her, I could feel her steady glare surveying me from head to foot. Her eyebrow was raised, and it ticked me off. She didn't greet me informally, like what a real mother should. She just took out her hand, and I was forced to kiss it. But, since my father loved her, I gave her a chance to be like a mother, and I emptied a space in my heart for her.

She told me to call her Mother, but I couldn't. My mother was my mother, the only one. She was buried and dead and this lady was not her. I call her Lacrecia to show her that she was not my real mother.

Lady Lacrecia had two daughters, older than me. Caroline was two years older than Edith and I was a year my senior. Caroline was clearly the most pampered one. She was taller, with gleaming blond hair, in contrast to my raven locks. Her eyes were blue and glaring like her mother's eyes. Edith was quiet. Her hair was a shocking red that, I must admit, hurt my eyes. Her eyes were blue like Caroline, but serene.

When we grew up together, I saw more of my two sisters. Caroline was like my stepmother. She was vivacious to other people, but not I. She was bossy and commanding around me, often ordering me to stay out of her way. Edith, on the other hand, was the paragon of a wife. She embroidered everyday. She was introverted and seldom spoke.

But though I tried, I couldn't love my stepfamily.

I should have tried harder, because when Father died on my sixteenth year, they were the only family I got.

~