aurora | 1952

11

November 16th, 1952

Dinner goes slightly better than the nights before, at least I'm there and not having a breakdown. Again, I watch the people talk, one topic flowing into the other. Chatter about the Selection floats about, but is left hanging, which is honestly disappointing, because I want to know what I'm getting into. I guess I probably should've thought about that before I killed these peoples king.

After only chiming into a few conversations, the table is dismissed and the royals wander back to their rooms. I did see the ladies I stole the danish from, and they looked over and giggled at me, so naturally, I smiled back, the fake way that I know works, and that shut them up. Maybe taking the role of 'power bitch' shouldn't be my top priority, but I'm also not going to let them take me down. I pick the bottom of my evening dress slightly from the floors, so that these unnecessary heels can have their way. I get back to my room, and allow the maids to leave early. I figure they have to deal with Florence all day, plus they deserve a break either way. One leaves a dress across my bed for morning before leaving for the night.

I take in the first peace that I've received for four days. I slip my heels off, and walk over to the small balcony emerging from my room. I step out, barefoot, onto the familiar cold concrete, and look up to the sky. A night falls over the kingdom, the color such a dark shade of navy, that the bright stars almost fall through the atmosphere. I drop down, leaving my feet hanging through the open doorway, and rest my head against a pillar of the balcony. And before I know it, I'm sleeping again.

꧁꧂

I groggily look up to the tapping on my shoulder, squinting at the intense morning sunlight. My cramped body cracks with almost every movement, and I can just barely see Oscar standing above me, eyebrows raised.

"Is this some sort of bed boycott?" He gestures to the balcony that I slept on. Jesus, he's right. I haven't gotten a normal nights rest for the past 5 days. And it's starting to show. "What time is it?" I ask, picking myself up to my feet, my voice a low mumble. "7:30. 'Haven't missed dinner yet, but Mom'll flip if she sees you in that again. He looks my used dress up and down, waving his hand as he leaves my room.

I recollect my thoughts as I take the deep blue and white morning dress from my bed, my warm room relieving compared to the frigid night on the balcony. While changing, I sort my thoughts, overwhelming myself this early in the morning. Today, I meet with the shop worker from town. And tomorrow, well, tomorrow is the Selection. I guess stress is just part of the lifestyle, though. I wrap my hair into a half-up bun that Florence will probably disapprove of, but I couldn't care less. I head to the dining hall.

꧁꧂

Being back onto the familiar cobblestone streets is something I never would've figured I'd take liking to. But here I am, back on the decaying sidewalks and as at home as possible. I shuffle through the information the Queen provided earlier today.

Instead of taking a carriage, I decide to walk, not only because I wouldn't want a guard knowing where I'm planning on hiring from, but also to just take a breath.

After almost a half hour of walking, I turn onto my street. Before sneaking into the shop, I catch a glimpse of the bar I had been thrown out of just a few nights ago. Feels like a century ago, miles away from here. I push the boutique door, the bells jingling as I enter, smiling at the shopkeepers staring at me. With a deep breath, I step towards the counter.

"Good morning!" A girl no older than me curtsies.

"Hi, I was, um, wondering if I could speak to one of the dressers, please?" I try not to fluster at myself as I'm lead to the back of the shop. I try not to pay mind to the stares as I search the room. Women scatter about, whether they're sewing or embroidering, almost every one of them has something they're working on. I hesitantly walk through the group, scanning over each worker quickly, until I spot the recognizable bouncy curls. I navigate my way over to the corner of the room, where the bubbly dresser fumbles with a piece of cloth. I cautiously reach my hand out to get her attention.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" I pull my hand away awkwardly, freaked out by my own confrontations. She turns after a bit more pulling at the fabric, but does a double take at the sight of me. I bite my tongue to keep from laughing at all the attention.

"Oh- Yes, um, how can I um.." She taps her foot quickly, shaking her head, but quickly snaps her attention back and curtsies quickly. "How can I help you, M'lady?" I smile, dismissing her embarrassment. It makes mine feel valid, so I'm really alright with it.

"Would you mind talking in private, if you have a minute?" My hands slightly shake as I speak, blaming myself for not preparing any better. The blonde nods her head while motioning for me to follow her. We step into a quieter hallway, and the informality is so genuinely relieving. "I was wondering if you would be interested in a position at the palace?"I grin at her eager nods, glad that she's so willing to drop a fine job for a new venture. Well, this was easier than I had imagined.

"There is one thing, I'll have to talk to my manager.." She bites her lip, looking over to the register. "But that should be fine! It'll be fine." She looks back at me, partly shrugging, obviously stressed. I would ask why, but I figure that's be for another day.

"I could try talking to her for you," I nod, and the strawberry blonde's giggly smile returns, unavoidably forcing my own. "Really? That would be just great! Thank you!" She holds my hands for a quick second before rushing back into the busy room. It's nice knowing not everyone will be so professional at the palace anymore. I'm just not looking forward to speaking to the manager, whoever she is, she put this energetic girl into stress. And I didn't know anyone could burst her bubble. I take a slow step towards the office that the girl pointed to. I hope this is worth it.