As a girl Ami's father told her stories about how a beautiful enchantress lived up on top of the highest moon-mountain, watching over the castle and "one little lady in particular." Ami would always smile at him as he tapped the tip of her small nose and whispered "Madame Amelia, I dub thee Luna Pequena, little moon." He would finally coax her to bed by reminding her that even the moon goddess fell asleep amongst her bed of clouds and blanket of stars.
Ami grinned now, as she remembered how she never really did go straight to sleep. She always jumped once more out of bed after he had left, just to fix her eyes on her pearl in the sky, her nighttime lantern.
Her father's nickname caught on in the household, at least by the servants and maids, and everyone who she really thought of as friends. Only after her father's death did they stop calling her Little Luna, or Little Moon and the like, as they feared it would sadden the small girl. In truth, it comforted her to have something of her father to hold onto.
The only one who continued to call her Little Luna was their old cook, Mrs. Doily, who had been with the Derin's since Ami's father was a young boy. She was a short, pleasantly plump lady with pink cheeks and lively olive green eyes to match a light Scottish accent. Her thin white hair was usually pulled up into a tight bun and she always seemed to be wearing the same light blue apron with little black Scot Terriers around the edges.
Whenever she needed someone to talk to, or something to do (which was increasingly uncommon with her step-sister in charge) Mrs. Doily was there for her. They were quite a pair, those two; funny to look upon, really. The young and pale, slim, coffee-eyed brunette scurrying around to obey the orders of a surprisingly stern chubby old lady with those wild eyes who looks like Mrs. Clause's hyper-active twin sister!
As of late she had been seeing less and less of her favorite cook, though. Ami was pretty sure it was something of Jesse's doing, who always thought conversing with servants to be most distasteful. Ami reminded her that there was really no one else to talk to, which led to no avail. Jesse merely responded that it was indeed then time to begin courting for a suitor to keep her company.
Since then, Ami groaned inwardly whenever she heard the word "court" or anything that remotely resembled it. About a year and eight failed suitors had gone by since that day, each one seemingly more dull and/or arrogant, and every one of them filled up to the brim with distasteful qualities and characteristics. Apparently there just weren't any good men nowadays, Ami recalled thinking, that somehow she had missed the ones worth her time and energy.
She had then hoped against hope that she was wrong, but now she really didn't care anymore. She knew that it was just one of her sister's plots to shoo her out of the castle, and that, for now, it didn't matter as long as she continued to refuse each suitor.
What scared Ami the most was the truth that, for every man she denied, her sister grew more impatient, and that as Jesse's patience thinned, she was devising new plans to take control, to make it her game and play by her rules. Ami was certain that behind the ceaselessly smiling face were plots of vengeance, if not action, against her. Plots that would be increasingly forceful with each day until Jesse decided that the time for stalling and peaceful negotiation was long gone, and that Ami would leave by any means necessary.
Now, for Ami, was simply a time to wait and keep her wits about her; a time to expect the unexpected, a trait she had become accustomed to in her home of nineteen years. Although fear kept her usually bright features dull and tired, she felt as if something good was going to happen soon; something quite unexpected. This filled her heart with the hope she so often longed for, and gave her faith that there will be another day. Be it a day of sorrow and depression, of hard reality or of fantasy, there will be another day. This was a lesson in life she so often depended on; now more than ever.
Her head shot around from the now deepened sky as she heard the familiar tap-tap-tap of Jesse's beloved heels. She never wore any other kind of shoe, it seemed. It was as if she even slept in the things. Ami listened carefully and could just hear the particular swish of her favorite long black silk dress against the marble hallway.
Oh no. Amelia thought.
Whenever Jesse wore black (which was currently most of the time) she was contemplating. Not just about anything, mind you. She was contemplating her next move, the next step in getting rid of her step-sister. She was as meticulous in her clothing choices as she was in this little game of 'chess' she had going on with Ami, and Ami had come to recognize her thought process by what she wore. And when Jesse wore black silk, she had just made up her mind on where to move her pawns. Or, in this case, her knights…
Disclaimer: Own nothing of what will become something like Beauty and the Beast, I own all of my characters, yadayadayada...Please read and review!