Not Quite a Fairytale
Word Count: 776
Prompts: Fairy Tale – Eyes of a Stranger – Crashing Waterfall
Summary: Little Sharon thought that it should have played out like a scene from her books, but she wasn't quite as brave as a princess, yet.
When the stranger first started living with the Rainsworths', Sharon didn't know what to make of him. Instead of doting on her like all the other young men that came to visit do, he never said anything to her. In fact – in Sharon's opinion – he flat-out ignored her, and she wasn't pleased with the knowledge of that at all.
It was morning; at a time that only the servants would dream about being up at.
But she knew he would be awake and out, from the few times she had watched him depart from the castle from her balcony.
When she had seen him leave today, she had immediately left her room to follow him, afraid that she would lose him in the intricate gardens if she delayed at all.
Even in the mildly chilly spring morning, she was only wearing a lightweight lilac colored dress, which maybe had a closer qualification as a nightgown. She would be scolded if her mother, grandmother, or her governess found her in it while she was outside.
The pitter-patter of her bare feet on the stone pathway echoed with the dawn. She stopped to take a breath. The man was nowhere to be found.
Sharon stomped one of her feet in frustration, no matter how unladylike it was at the moment. And just when she had built the courage to talk to him on her own, too.
She let out a grumpy breath to remove a strand of hair that had fallen into her eye. When the strand just resettled back on her cheek, she indignantly shoved it behind her ear.
Only after she finally decided to return to her room was when she found him.
He was standing by the rail guard overlooking the water garden, which contained water lilies and water thrushes, and many other water-foliage that Sharon couldn't remember the names of, even though her mother had told her.
She tried to move slowly and quietly towards him. She was proud of herself for moving as quietly as a cat, but it seemed as if he would have heard her even if she had been a mouse.
She froze underneath his gaze, suddenly feeling unguarded and unprepared. She had not rehearsed anything to say to him. She had just been hoping that something would magically come to her like it did to all the princesses in her fairytale books.
While she had been lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that he had turned away from her.
She felt a muscle in her eyebrow twitch. How dare he ignore her.
Her resolve came crashing back into her like a waterfall.
She boldly came to stand beside him, staring fixedly out into the garden with a determined look on her face.
They were both silent. Even after all her grand confidence had returned, she still hadn't anything to say.
Thus, she was quite surprised when he spoke. "Did you need something, My Lady?"
She looked up at him, but still couldn't find something to say. She had to honestly admit to herself that she had not talked to him alone since he had arrived. She was always with someone else. But he never talked to her much, either, even when he had started onto the road of recovery.
He had fresh bandages on. She could tell because the material looked slightly stiff. They had probably been changed this morning by him. She knew that he had begun to learn how to apply them alone. She didn't think he wanted anyone else to see the wound.
He was so different from all the other young men, and it wasn't just the color of his eye. He didn't coddle her just because he was trying to gain the attention of her mother.
He also had such an old-fashioned feel around him. The way he held himself, the way he talked or the way his presence either commanded that you notice him or allowed him to melt into the shadows.
"My Lady?" he said again, and she felt herself blush.
She suddenly turned tail and ran. She didn't let herself be stopped even though her utter embarrassment demanded her to.
Her books must be lying to her. How in the world can the princess just walk up to the tragic hero and strike up a casual conversation? It was quite beyond her.
She didn't stop running until she was in the security of her room. She leaned against her door, her plump baby cheeks flushed with exertion.
Next time she saw him, she would talk to him.
But maybe next time, she would watch how her mother did it, first.