Princess Sophie Ruewen was born to King Grady and Queen Edaline 17 years ago. Now the law decrees that she is to be married by the time she turns 18, or she gives the crown to her younger brother James. Obviously Sophie wants to become Queen so she...
Those were the first words I heard when I saw my family. My maids had rushed me off to my room and dressed me in a beautiful black dress.
Sophie's dress:
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I was escorted in the report room, and as everyone was scurrying around in black, I caught on.
"Who died?" I asked James and he sighed.
"Jim Scott and about a hundred guards." I gasped and put my hand over my mouth. About a hundred guards? What?
James gently wrapped his arms around my shoulders. He knows better than anyone how hard this kind of thing is for me. When I was 12, our sister, (my adopted sister) Jolie, died in a fire from smoke inhalation and burns. A fire was set outside her door and on her balcony, so she had no escape. She was 15. To young to die. She would've been such a good Queen. Thankfully, I have James. I recently found out James was actually my biological brother, but we still didn't know who our parents were. But I'm sensitive to this stuff because of Jolie's funeral. It was an open casket funeral. Her once beautiful blonde hair was a dull ash color and looked burnt off. Her bright eyes, once full of life would never open again. Wearing her favorite dress, she laid in the casket, all life sucked out of her. Her hands, folded on top of each other. Her skin had a strange plastic look to it, that made her look like a manikin. I'll never forget how different she looked from the girl who would climb trees with me, and ran around the palace gardens. I barely recognized her, and couldn't look at her for more than a minute. Everyday since the day she died, I've wanted her back so badly, that I would do anything for it. The report clicked on and we were introduced and I was pulled out of my memories when the room fell silent, everyone's eyes on me. I snapped my head up.
"What was the question?" I asked quietly, and was responded with, "What's you're opinion on Jim Scott's death?"
I held my head high. "That is a difficult question. I did not know Mr. Scott very well, but I do know he was to young to die. I cannot say or do anything that will EVER take away the pain of losing a child, a friend, brother, uncle, cousin. Nothing can make up for that. But I will personally see to it that the family of Mr. Scott is paid monthly for the next three months to give you time to grieve without having to worry about anything."
I looked straight into the camera to let everyone know I meant it. The crew and all the people onset nodded, and the questions went to my mom, dad, and James. I zoned out again, and before I knew it, the report was over, and James was silently leading me back to my room.
Was that ok? Should I actually write out the funeral or no? Hope you guys liked it. Also - I NEED THAT DRESS.
