~65~ Early morning memory

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Word count: 2219

~~~ November 26, 1777 ~~~

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The air was warm, stale - a pale light glistening weakly through my closed eyes.

It was quiet, the hard floor replaced with a much softer surface that left my still tired mind confused.

I lay on my side, my hands tucked up close to my chest for warmth - just like how I remembered laying the night before aside from my more relaxed frame. A soft exhale passes through my lips and my eyes open to see the familiar walls and furnishings of my bedroom; it wasn't long before a soft red hue dusted my cheeks like a faint breeze.

'Someone moved me?'
It was a simple thought, yet one that had a hold on my attention.

I place a hand on the covers below me, moving to sit up more before I swallow and turn to glance at the window - the array of dusty hues mixing with the beginnings of sunlight in a silent showing of just how early in the day it was.
My frame slides off the end of the bed with subtle grace, my stocking covered feet landing on the plush rug where my discarded heels lay paitently.

I straighten my posture, fixing the jacket I was still grateful to have with me - my hands grasping the edges as I gazed out the window at the faded blues and strong crimson oranges that easily reminded me of fire dancing in the sunrise, as if it were the beginnings of the sun's greeting to another day.

It wasn't long before my gaze fell, looking passed the scarlet red fabric and the skirt of the dress I had worn the day prior - the pink and gold hues seeming dull in comparison of the gold trim lining the hem of the jacket's edge - down to the heels I slipped on with ease while the thought of leaving my now seemingly stuffy room became prominent.

I still wasn't fond of how quiet the room - the whole castle was, the silence surrounding each wall dreary and dull. Lifeless.

I turn, making my way over to the door with quiet, and almost hesitant steps - even the three sharp knocks were distant and soft to me.

My hand then draws itself to my chest, clasping my other hand as the sound of shifting fabric signaled bodies on the other side having moved from their once still positions - and soon the clicking of metal made my eyes shift to the handle of the door.

The door hadn't been locked.

I step back part way as it turns, the door soon opening to reveal the more dim hallway, and two familiar faces that I had to admit, I was glad to see.

"Your highness, how may we be of assistance this morning?" Sean smiles in an oddly cheerful tone - making the small smile I shared back seem weak.

"Good morning Sean, Benedict." I greet kindly, rubbing the sleep from my left eye as I step forward and look up at the two uniformed males.

They still stood tall, their posture rivaled only by that of the king - and the same small trinkets, belts, and badges lined their signature red and white jackets. Every article was crisp and polished, even down to the cream colored vests and dark knee high boots.
They were perfect soldiers, held together with laxed pride and personalities you could see partly though their eyes.

"I hope you both have been well." I ask awkwardly, my voice finding itself to be lost and Sean, sensing my slight discomfort, smiles.

"We've been well." His partner answers, his expression more held back, yet still gentle. "Is everything alright?"

I nod, my grasp on the jacket tightening momentarily as if I had just lied.

"Is there something you need?" Sean asks.

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