Cicatrice

Chapter I

PRINCESS ESTELLE BELSHAW

I inspect the reflection that glares back at me in the arched mirror. My eyes gaze to the fresh scar across my face, and I feel disgusted. The words that father had uttered to me had finally sunken in and I didn't quite know what to make of it. Me? A queen? I was merely seventeen, and yes, I suppose I was born into royalty but I never once thought about how soon it was for me, Princess Estelle Belshaw, to become the next Toulousain queen. Not only that but what would people think? They'd just see my father as more of a coward.

For my convenience, this hasn't yet become publicly recognised. Since Father cherished being a monarch, I knew he would reconsider his decision, and he still had time to do so. He adored the people so much he would sacrifice his life for them. He would have to be mad to give up the throne so easily - better yet, give it to me, who has no idea what she'd be doing.

"Miss Estelle, are you ready to accompany your father? They're ready for you." Marguerite, the maid, who was more like my mother, pops her head through my bedroom door. I smile at her through the mirror, while she watches me with endearment in her eyes. "Would you mind tightening my corset? It's loosened up since last time," I ask, and she shuffles over to me in her black and white dress, starting to retie the corset. I readjust the feather bonnet on my head but I'm still not satisfied with the way I look.

I feel my organs squeeze up inside of me, suffocating me. After all this time, I still haven't gotten used to wearing corsets or grand, poufy gowns. I wonder if that's how father had felt all this time, stuck, struggling and in need of help. Perhaps I could sympathise after all.

Marguerite escorts me down the marble hallway and under the golden arch that leads from the upstairs foyer to the balcony where father had sat and will soon address the people, hopefully without losing any limbs.

My heart bangs against my chest as we walk through the doors, and we're greeted by sunlight and my father, who looked incredibly exhausted. I glance over the balcony, watching people gather around below us, getting ready for father to make a public apology for all of the deaths he was 'responsible' for.

He purses his lips, gets up from his porcelain chair, and presents himself to the crowd. To even be in the King's company, some people swoon, some boo, and some just stop and stare. My stomach is doing somersaults. I don't know what is going to come of this. If they'll forgive my father.

It takes a few moments for the people to settle down. Suddenly, it goes ghostly quiet, and I feel my face growing hot and itchy. Sometimes I can't fathom that I am a part of the Belshaw royal family, because I just see myself as a regular person. Nevertheless, I guess that's all I will ever know. 

"I'm sure everyone is undoubtedly eager to discover what will occur regarding our servants next, but ahead of that, I consider it vital to express my regret for this incident even occurring," Father clears his throat, and it is still as quiet as a ghost town.

"However, there is no justification for violence in France or here in Toulouse, and that will stay in effect until the very day the Belshaw bloodline dies," he takes a deep breath and the crowd whispers amongst one another.

"As for the servants, you will all be assigned new ones that are coming all the way from Birmingham, England and are expected to be arriving within a week or so, and will be provided with adequate living spaces and meals to strengthen their immune systems," he informs, and the crowd cheers in excitement, as if they weren't throwing bricks at my father two days ago.

He was the hero once again, and I knew I had the right judgement. He wasn't going to abandon the throne.

"All good to go, father?" I question, ready to go back inside with a faint smile plastered on my lips, feeling a sense of relief lifted off my shoulds. His smile widens toward the crowd, and he doesn't look my way at all.

"Now that that is settled, I must regretfully disclose that I will be stepping down as King," He booms, and my heart drops down to my stomach. It's suddenly like bricks have landed on my shoulders now, I feel exhaustingly heavy. 

Father never tells me anything.

"My daughter, Princess Estelle will be taking over the heir as the next queen of France. Coronation will be discussed within a few weeks," he states, the citizens below us cheering, booing, and chanting. 

It felt like right then and there, my whole life would come crumbling down.