Lace
SIMPLE SUMMARY: She was masked in lace; she could see no one out of it, but all could see her through it. Here lays a tale that had never been blessed with its 'happily ever after.'
FULL SUMMARY: She wanted to be able to live like the common folk, she wanted to be able to run out to the horizon, yet she could not have those simple wishes. She was to become heir to the throne; she was betrothed to a prince to whom she was not fond of. She noticed, with distaste, that he had her eyes on her favorite sister. Her sister loved him, but she could not bring herself to break it to her youngest sister in what she believes: that the prince is trying to kidnap her. The prince, himself, however, has a different story, a story in which she is not quite sure that she can trust. For here, every person has a different point of view, a different story – and only one of them can be true. If she can find the single one to trust, then she may become the greatest queen ever recorded in history.
If she fails, however, it will mean death to her and her family.
THE FOLLOWING SUMMARY IS A SPOILER.
And there is a person who is stalking her, trying to kill the one who attempts to fix the chaos. She wants to stay out; she doesn't want to partake in the royal turmoil, hiding herself in layers of thin lace. When she finds out that it does not matter if she helps or not, she will be killed if the person finds her, she decides to make the best of her time to save her family and herself.
But when she falls for her murderer unknowingly, and the person who paid the murderer falls for her, mass confusion begins. Her quiet youngest sister runs away with the prince. Her mother, the ones with the most wit and wisdom in the family, fears for her life and runs away. It turns into a headcase that she cannot handle – and that headcase continuously grows larger.
Angst / Romance / Tragedy
Disclaimer: I own all! Bwahahaha! Applies to full story
A/N: First fairy tale, third/fourth time using first person. I'm trying to gain a new skill. Teehee. Please Review!
I could only tell that I had hated the words as soon as it had stepped out of my father's mouth. It was not enough to be cursed to be born in this family. "You are a fool!" my sisters tell me. "Any maiden in this country would give all they had to be born in the position as you are!" Yet I disagree; what kind of life must I live forever, onwards, if everything I do, everything I say, is not something that I choose to do? I will have no say in anything whatsoever. I will have no true life of my own. The one thing that I possess is gold, and that gold will be taken away from me the day I marry. What maiden in the country would want this so badly? What maiden would want to be princess?
My mother had never bore a son. She is past the likely age to bear child now, my eight sisters and I the only children of royalty. My father drew me into his throne, declaring his proposition. "My dear Kellyn," he had said, "you are my eldest daughter, and I shall entrust my throne to you when I die." The words still echo in my head, but I am horrified. I have never asked to hold power, to hold the weight of an entire country upon my shoulders. Yet, fate had once more overridden me, declaring things that I will never want nor need. He then spoke of betrothal. I smiled weakly. I could care less of combining the power of countries.
Had I been born into a family of olive gardens, this fate would have never been bestowed upon me.
My sisters had gushed at the thought of my future marriage, dreamy expressions crossing their faces all day. I scowled in disapproval. I wanted so badly to not have been firstborn. I cannot possibly relate to any of my younger siblings, save the youngest: Katrina. She is, as her name implies, so pure and beautiful with such skill that none other can ever hope to possess. Any man would want her. She is kind and quiet, gentle and soft, sitting by her rose garden day and night, trimming the leaves, humming a quiet melody to herself. She is feeble, unaware of the world around her; I feel the urge to protect her.
Prince Daray of a neighboring country will be here soon, likely not today, however. It is my last chance to flee away from this world of force and ill wish of power. Father knows of the many people who want so badly to be king, who will do anything to overthrow our family to take over. I would have gladly accepted the chance to become like anyone else; my father, however, disagrees. He claims that once we are overthrown, they will diminish us forever, to ensure that we shall not try and take back what is rightfully ours. I wonder if it is possible to give up my royalty.
I find Katrina sitting by the flowerbed, soaking up the sun's warm rays, her goldenrod hair glistening. How I wish I could be her, not to worry about becoming a leader of a country. I fear becoming one like so. I find that the prospect of responsibility is one too frightening. I may be repeating myself, but it is true. The knowledge of knowing that all who are beneath you may day by a single fault of your own may cause such guilt that it is possible to self-suicide, a sin that is not allowed within our lands. It would have been punished by the pain of death, but I had pointed out that if one had already committed suicide, it would be quite impossible to murder them once more.
Katrina looks up at me, a small smile flickering across her small, rosy lips. I do not smile back. How can I? She notices, and her smile fades away. "What's wrong, Elly? What's wrong?"
A small smile crossed my lips as she spoke her own nickname for me. I look into her innocent face, her worried deep, blue eyes. I did not want her to suffer for my own cause. "There's nothing wrong," I said softly. "Just a nightmare."
She smiled, turning back to her roses, holding a single one delicately in her fingers. "It was beautiful," she said softly, her eyes far-away and distant. "I wanted to keep it with me forever." She had not clipped the thorns, I noticed. Katrina held the rose close to herself, accidentally pricking her finger. She gasped, dropping the rose immediately, looking at the red blood that dripped. She ran off to her nurse immediately; I looked down at the rose. I was about to pick it up when the wind had swept it away from my grasp, and I watched it fly away in the sky.
The wind began to beat across my face. It was getting chilly; I headed back inside. There, my maid grabbed me – a very improper thing to do.
"He's here – apparently, they left early! Come, ma'dam, he is already requesting for you! We must prepare you!" she hushed, pushing me into my room. I stared at her, oddly.
"Who? Who's here?" I asked.
"Why, his Royal Highness Prince Daray!" my maid Tarza exclaimed. I gasped. I had hoped for an evening to myself. No, fate was not even kind enough to grant me the smallest desire of mine. Quickly, Tarza pressed against me my beige gown, complete with gemstones and a lace veil. Turning to stare at me, she cried, "What are you waiting for? Hurry! Get changed!" I bit my lip. I did not want to, but I could not appear as a spoilt child as I was once before, angrily saying "Must I?" whenever I had to things I didn't want to do.
Nodding reluctantly, I changed, slipping on the gown, the soft, cool fabric smooth against my skin. Tarza tied it in the back as I placed the veil upon my head. I stared at my reflection in the mirror as Tarza began to dab a small bit of perfume on upon me. This was not the princess that I wanted to become. I didn't want to be the queen who was not even allowed to side-saddle, forced to sit upon the throne day and night as Mother does. I want to run. I want to see what is at the horizon, where the sun sets. I want to see where the moon and the stars call home.
Yet I can't.
"You are ready, Princess Kellyn," Tarza said, resuming her calm and separated self. I nodded, holding my head high as my instructor once taught me. I exited the room, walking down the grand marble staircase, entering the ball room in which King Kabili and Prince Daray toured our castle.
Father looked up. "And here she is, my daughter, Princess Kellyn," he said, a smile upon his lips. I smiled weakly, curtsying. Prince Daray turned out to be a tall figure, strong; his long dark hair hung in front of his dark eyes, his pale skin contrasting greatly. King Kabili was quite the opposite; stout, rounded, bald, with tanned skin. Even the prince's eyes could not be found in the king's. He must take after his mother completely, I mused.
"Princess Kellyn," Prince Daray said, kissing my hand. "You look lovely."
"Thank you," I replied unevenly as his father did the same. I could not remember how to be gracious, the sight of the two made my stomach churn in anxiety; I feared for what would become of this.
It was that which had started my life disaster. He has been here for two weeks now, I recall, as I sit in my room, thinking of the situation. He seemed a gentlemen when I had first met him. I believed that he could, perhaps, become a proper husband. However, every night at dinnertime, he flashed a glance at Katrina, his eyes dark. I could not tell what was going on behind them, but I was afraid. It was yesterday when it became apparent to me. He had asked Katrina out for a walk, and she smiled slightly and agreed. I did not quite comprehend that smile, and I still don't.
Katrina came back a few hours later, strangely giggly and silent. I asked her where she was; she did not say the honest truth. I asked her how she was; she said she was fine. I fear for Katrina. I fear for myself, for the treachery I may bring upon the kingdom; and thus, I fear for the kingdom.
What good of a princess am I? All I do is be afraid. I am not brave enough to stand up for what I want, to release my royalty. Oh, how I want to do that so; I shall ignore the gasps and the mocks of cruelty when I give my royalty up, but I want it so badly, yet I am still afraid of Father. I am afraid of unnecessary things. I am most certain that Prince Daray is a good man, a good leader, that I imagine every night those dark looks he casts my sister. Yet why, why do I have such intuition that I should be afraid? Why am I always afraid?
I meet him in the hallway as I walk down to my classes. I curtsy and smile. "Have you acquainted well with my family?" I ask, looking at him in the eyes. His eyes are not warm, the way I wanted them to be. They remained ever different, far-away, almost cold – the stony, icy cold in which her own eyes could not penetrate. His handsome smile does not meet his eyes.
"I have acquainted with them well," he says. "Your sisters are all lovely." I notice that he says nothing about me. I want to ask him about what he thought of Katrina, but I don't. Once again, I am afraid.
I smile at him weakly. "I am glad to hear that," I say, however thoroughly lying. "However, I must be going now. Good day." He replies his own farewell before I leave, relieved to be out of his sight. I walk to my history class. My instructor is teaching me about the rise and falls of past reigns of kings and queens. I notice a pattern. A plotted downfall meant for the king and his family comes every thirteen reigns, on the thirteenth year of the family's reign. Each downfall was greater and worse than the previous.
If the pattern was to be met, the next downfall would be this year.
I gasp. The instructor doesn't notice and continues lecturing me. "Though Izengail had conquered the king, he had died, his point of attacks foiled. Instead, King Illazis II came to rule, and that is your family, Princess Kellyn." I glance up at my name.
Our family has been seated at the throne for thirteen different reigns.
Every single time, the plans were foiled, the king dead, the plotter missing, and another family rises.
Would they succeed in their attempts this time?
I shake my head wildly. I refused to let anything happen to my family. Nothing strange was happening, was there? I think as I recall those many dinner occasions with Prince Daray.
He was going to capture Katrina. I couldn't let him. I musn't.
Yet by dinnertime, I realize that it was too late. Katrina had fallen for him, knowing however well that he was my suitor. She was tricked. I refuse to allow my dearest sister to be taken away. I glare at Daray.
He doesn't notice. He is too busy flirting with Katrina. Father doesn't notice. He is too busy conversing with King Kabili. I stare at Kabili with distaste. He notices, though. He looks over at me and smirks.
He doesn't smile, like most men do when I see them in the hallway. He smirks. I have never seen anyone so grown smirk before. It is very improper. I have seen young boys throwing rocks at the geese do it before, yet one wouldn't think too much about that.
With that, I excused myself. I had to tell Katrina, yet I didn't know how. I sigh.
How I wish that I could live like a normal girl.
A rude knock at my door interrupts me from my thoughts. I walk across my bedroom and open it. It is Prince Daray. "I'm sorry, I need to – " I begin, but he cuts me off.
"You don't trust me," he whispers angrily. "You don't trust your future king."
I stare. He knows of my suspicions. I had tried so hard to keep them to myself. I do not see how he could've seen through me, but I do not believe myself to be very bright. I guess my actions proved my thoughts. I had asked him one too many questions this morning, written one line too many notes during history.
I try to attempt innocence. "What do you mean?" I ask.
"Don't pretend you don't know," he says. "I know you do."
"What do you think I know?" I ask, wanting specification. Perhaps I don't know what he is thinking of. Perhaps I can still get away with a blank slate.
He glares. "Why don't you trust me?" he whispers urgently.
I glare back. The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop it. "I don't trust you with my sister."
He glares more ferociously than before. "You think me to kidnap her?" he asked. I hesitate. "You do?" I bite my lip, refusing to respond. "I know you adore your sister, but you cannot speak a word to her. It will only cause you greater chaos."
"You already cause me chaos," I reply. "What happened to my sweet, dear sister? She knows I'm betrothed to you, yet she falls for you anyway. What happened to her sensibility?"
"What happened to your trust?"
His question caught me off-guard. I say, "I trusted my sister, but I do not want a person whom I have never seen nor spoken to before sweep her away. It is you to whom I do not trust. You are right. I do not trust my future king, should you ever become my husband. Upon the alter, I can refuse. If you shoot me, Father will never allow you to marry the next heir."
"Perhaps you father doesn't care," he said. I stare. I refuse to believe in his nonsense words. He is trying to sidetrack me away from the truth. It will not work, here. I will not fall for such trickery as they did in history. "Greater danger is about to come. You must trust me."
I stare at him in distaste, eying him carefully before giving him my answer. He waits patiently. I hesitate, then say angrily, "No." I closed the door, not wanting to hear what else he had to say. I know my family wouldn't betray their own kin, especially Father and Katrina. Why would dear Katrina think of anything like that? She does not strike me as a traitor. Father wouldn't give his throne up to anybody, save his kin. I didn't believe in a single word that Prince Daray had spoken of.
Yet, for some reason… one part of me did. I scream into my pillow.
I wish to be no more a princess.