It has been nearly an entire month now.
So much has happened. I almost eradicated the Cassandra in me, the Princess.
His name was Blake; he wasn't a Duke or a Prince or a Barron, he wan't standing in line for a a throne or a title or some sort of vast wealth or lands. I guess that is one of the pitfalls of standing this high, the only way to look is down or beside you. And you rarely see anything interesting or out of the ordinary there beside. The place down below however, is an entirely different tale. You can either be squeamish about it and not just look down but really look down on them when you see any commoner.Or you could chose to actually step out of the cluster of awe and wonder being regal surrounds you with.
I met him on my rounds of the city. As my usual routine went I escaped my guards leaving them scared for their lives and livelihood (from the Queen) and as they went about their usual routine of scrambling around the usual places I would normally let them find me I scoffed at the whole idea of having guards trailing me when I was perfectly capable of killing anyone who came within ten feet of me in seventeen different ways, as for long range attacks skirts are a pretty handy place to stash throwing daggers.
I sat at this little street side bakers shop that had opened up on the end of Bakers Street, (the irony or not) somewhere where they would never think of looking or me until dusk. That was when this random guy runs up to me and says "Quick pretend we're having a conversation!"
Startled I stared at him. But really people, doesn't everyone in the Kingdom, soon to be my Kingdom, know who I am. I mean how do you not know the person who could throw you into a dungeon just because she was bored, or didn't like your face, or just wanted to mess with the first random stranger. I mean people! I'm in a fancy dress, in heels that probably do some nasty permanent damage in the long run and yes, I was wearing one of my light tiaras but I don't see anyone else in the street with a silver, sparkly diamond and emerald studded tiara.
Moving on. This guy. As much as I was annoyed at not having been recognized (Irony again? I'm the one always running from my title!) I smiled at the prospect of having met someone who didn't bow before the first of many courtesy split out of their mouth, so when he turned around to look for whatever was chasing him I slipped off my tiara and gloves and stuffed them down my purse.
When he turned back I smiled. His blue eyes were cool and calm even as sweat trickled down his forehead. I could almost feel his heart racing with adrenaline, his high-arched eyebrows came together as his squinted at my dress.
"Some ball I wasn't invited to?" His thick country accent sent a chill down my spine. A nice chill might I add, wait- can chills be nice?
And for some reason I laughed and my hand brushed by his and for a moment I forgot who I was and where I was supposed to be.
The lines on his forehead creased as he frowned. I sat there taking in every little detail about him etching it into my memory, he was something all right, I was mesmerized, the feeling as fancy as the word.
"Somethin the matter? Not good 'nuff for your little party?" he smiled.
"You don't seem the type to be tied down to something as gracefully graceless as a ball"
"Gracefully graceless?" he raised his eyebrows.
"Well, what's the point of a couple of people with a lot of money coming together to do a fancy chicken dance? Graceful yes, but extravagant to the point of loosing it charm and with it the much needed grace."
"Well said, princess" he got up and kissed my hand.
I flinched. I was sure he didn't mean it the way it was supposed to be but the word was cast and the moment ended.
We went our separate ways that evening but for people like me things have a funny way falling apart and then being glued together forcibly only to finally stick, even with its jagged edges and messy frame the picture tends to come together.
Au revoir!
So much has happened. I almost eradicated the Cassandra in me, the Princess.
His name was Blake; he wasn't a Duke or a Prince or a Barron, he wan't standing in line for a a throne or a title or some sort of vast wealth or lands. I guess that is one of the pitfalls of standing this high, the only way to look is down or beside you. And you rarely see anything interesting or out of the ordinary there beside. The place down below however, is an entirely different tale. You can either be squeamish about it and not just look down but really look down on them when you see any commoner.Or you could chose to actually step out of the cluster of awe and wonder being regal surrounds you with.
I met him on my rounds of the city. As my usual routine went I escaped my guards leaving them scared for their lives and livelihood (from the Queen) and as they went about their usual routine of scrambling around the usual places I would normally let them find me I scoffed at the whole idea of having guards trailing me when I was perfectly capable of killing anyone who came within ten feet of me in seventeen different ways, as for long range attacks skirts are a pretty handy place to stash throwing daggers.
I sat at this little street side bakers shop that had opened up on the end of Bakers Street, (the irony or not) somewhere where they would never think of looking or me until dusk. That was when this random guy runs up to me and says "Quick pretend we're having a conversation!"
Startled I stared at him. But really people, doesn't everyone in the Kingdom, soon to be my Kingdom, know who I am. I mean how do you not know the person who could throw you into a dungeon just because she was bored, or didn't like your face, or just wanted to mess with the first random stranger. I mean people! I'm in a fancy dress, in heels that probably do some nasty permanent damage in the long run and yes, I was wearing one of my light tiaras but I don't see anyone else in the street with a silver, sparkly diamond and emerald studded tiara.
Moving on. This guy. As much as I was annoyed at not having been recognized (Irony again? I'm the one always running from my title!) I smiled at the prospect of having met someone who didn't bow before the first of many courtesy split out of their mouth, so when he turned around to look for whatever was chasing him I slipped off my tiara and gloves and stuffed them down my purse.
When he turned back I smiled. His blue eyes were cool and calm even as sweat trickled down his forehead. I could almost feel his heart racing with adrenaline, his high-arched eyebrows came together as his squinted at my dress.
"Some ball I wasn't invited to?" His thick country accent sent a chill down my spine. A nice chill might I add, wait- can chills be nice?
And for some reason I laughed and my hand brushed by his and for a moment I forgot who I was and where I was supposed to be.
The lines on his forehead creased as he frowned. I sat there taking in every little detail about him etching it into my memory, he was something all right, I was mesmerized, the feeling as fancy as the word.
"Somethin the matter? Not good 'nuff for your little party?" he smiled.
"You don't seem the type to be tied down to something as gracefully graceless as a ball"
"Gracefully graceless?" he raised his eyebrows.
"Well, what's the point of a couple of people with a lot of money coming together to do a fancy chicken dance? Graceful yes, but extravagant to the point of loosing it charm and with it the much needed grace."
"Well said, princess" he got up and kissed my hand.
I flinched. I was sure he didn't mean it the way it was supposed to be but the word was cast and the moment ended.
We went our separate ways that evening but for people like me things have a funny way falling apart and then being glued together forcibly only to finally stick, even with its jagged edges and messy frame the picture tends to come together.
Au revoir!
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