𝓕𝓐𝓛𝓢𝓚 & ℝ𝕆𝔻𝔼𝕆

- | MAIDS & MIRRORS | -

Today's regiment will be put on hold and thy lessons will be postponed due to the preparations of the Meladonia Ball.
Please proceed to breakfast, then to your chambers.

Signed
King & Queen of Malvena
—
Ha! Signed, as if the king and queen even stepped foot into the same room as this note. Even with all the formalities, there was still too much kindness my parents would ever care to share with their offsprings.

The side note was clipped neatly with each of its corners aligning perfectly to the weekly regiment. Preparations of the Meladonia Ball.

A gust of resentment blew harshly from my mouth as I sighed so strongly I could have sworn a sore the paper flinched back. Maybe because of my bad morning breath?

Today was the day of the long dreaded festivities. A grand ball is more beautiful and illustrious than even the king's birthday. My eyes narrowed staring over at the hanging floor length piece of fabric practically mocking me in the open wardrobe.

Don't get me wrong, I love a good party from time to time. Loud music pounding our precious ear drums, dancing till we drop and not so secretly spiked punches. But a royal ball is no party. The music is loud but not then high spirited pop beats, no.

This was painstakingly high strung orchestras playing deadly songs that lured those weak to join the lions in their den. The dancing was no fun either. They were rituals, warnings, sirens calls leading any fool to join the never ending doom of vulnerability.

Opening the floor to swindlers and con artists of a different class tricking the delusionally delighted into deals with the devil. And the drinks, even the most mouthwatering, delectable lemon rose punch, could not tempt me to drink the delicious poison.

Even if I were to die of thirst I believe it would be safer to drink rattlesnake venom than the teas and juices served at a royal ball.

To trust is to turn your back on an open blade.

Trust is leverage.

I shot up from my bed, a little too quickly. Feeling the consequence of my actions my head spun, making my headache. I squeezed my eyes tightly trying to strain the pain away. The ache fizzled away slowly allowing me to open my eyes to my bright open sunlight room.

I dangle my legs over the edge of the
feathery duvet covered bed. Allowing the blood to rush to my toes, I gave them a little wiggle to help the flow quicken. Stretching my feet out I planted my food on the smooth cooling tile beneath. The cold made me flinch slightly but I stood my ground. I always stand my ground.

A thin two ply twisted rope dangles above dresser drawers. A servant bell, I ring it once. That's all I need. They always come as fast as they can. Failure to serve is punishment worse than death. the heavy footsteps pattering on the tile alert me that there are a few coming to assist me. Six. Half a dozen maids clothed slightly tethered linen rags, fine enough to work in a royal palace but rough enough to remind them of their place. Not that they needed reminding.

A small group of various ages standing in a line with bright smiles that no matter how wide did not reach their eyes. Their eyes open and eager to do whatever I command.

"Training gear. Please," I command, adding the niceties, they deserve as much kindness as they can get working for my family. The women  all share an array of conflicted and confused looks between each other causing me to send a questioning raised eyebrow to them.

"Uh. I'm sorry to question you, grace," one of the older wrinkled faced maids said lowering her head as she stepped forward out of line. "Your mother said you were to be in preparation for the ball today." She continued in a shaky queried voice. I sighed deeply of course she did.

"And where are my brothers at this moment?" I asked, I would not stand for this hypocrisy. I knew exactly where my brothers were. Fooling around in the training ground, where they would be for most of the day until a few hours before where they would shower, powder and show up all in good time.

"Training room I believe, your grace," another younger maid answered before backing a little further behind the others. I needed to expel the annoyed chaotic energy I was feeling, it was that or I'd fry someone at the ball, accidentally. At Least I hope accidentally.

"Perfect, training gear please," I said, saying the last bit through gritted teeth. All six women nodded their heads furiously before dispersing themselves across my room to gather the essentials. Accompanied with a mumble of yes ma'am's.

Two of the maids, a younger olive skin girl and slick black ears tied back neatly and a middle aged woman with curly hair knotted into two messy French braids. They ushered me gently into the wooden chair that sat in front of the huge glass vanity mirror.

The two women grabbed one hairbrush each, both diamond crested purple handles that swirled into a white body. Even the hair brushes were on theme. They brushed my long chocolate brown locks that sat softly on my back reaching just above my waist. After a few more strokes they looked towards the mirror, locking their tired eyes with my own, awaiting further instructions on what style I wanted today.

"Two Dutch braids, please," I weakly smiled back to their overworked faces. It was a quick and simple style, perfect for training too. The ladies got to work twisting and lightly tugging strands of hairs into a beautiful pattern.

They used different combs and metal prongs to section and used their delicate skilled fingers to make perfectly precisioned identical works of art. Once they were done they took a small step backwards leaving room to marvel at their works. It was gorgeous.
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