Caspian

2

The cold breeze of the morning from the adjured window swept into the bedroom of the family house, hitting my uncovered arms and stirring me from my sleep. The summer had been and gone, and that was the first sign that nights were about to get darker and days were about to be bleaker.

Pulling myself up from the bed that my parents once owned, I shuffled over to the curtains, drawing them open and slamming the window closed with a frown on my face as I watched the swaying of the grass in the neglected back garden that I hadn't maintained much. poor thing.

I dragged my feet along the cold floors, making my way into my bathroom, which was once radiating with light blue hues and felt a lot lighter then it was. Now it was dull and full of memories of all the teary showers.

I looked up at the mirror, staring at my complexion. My face wasn't as young as it used to be, you could see that I had been through puberty with the small scars from the spots I had in that period of time, you could start seeing the dark bags under my eyes that had slowly started getting darker as I aged; my smile was weak; even if I tried, it looked fake.

My hair was a frizzy mess at the moment due to no water to rejuvenate, so it was looking like a bird's nest or that I had just walked out of a hedge, my hazel eyes darker than when I was a child. They had lost all there wonder and passion; they were just public with colour around them.

I let the shower water run for a moment until I saw the start of steam escape the tub and I climbed in, letting the burning water run through my hair and down my body.

My world had become just a bubble of depression, loneliness, and abandonment. The only difference now was that I was no longer 12 years old; I was 26 years old and had to go out to the market and get a day of work done instead of spending my days sitting in trees and running free.

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As soon as I got to the market, I slipped into my stall seat and plastered a fake smile as people walked up and down, peering into the stall decorated with detailed embroidered scarves and beautifully sculpted pedants every so often but alternately walking off, as I spun around in my chair waiting for the next best thing to happen, which was usually a pickpocket trying their luck.

"Did you hear the queen has sent out invitations to some of the kingdoms luckiest ladies for an opportunity to take Prince Blaine's hand in marriage?" My ears pricked up as two women dressed in long corseted dresses that dragged so elegantly along the dirty floor stopped outside my stall.

"I also heard that the queen was sick at the fact that he has waited until 40 to find a woman to marry; it sounds like babies will be shortly followed on her watch." The ladies spoke among themselves as they approached my stall, touching and inspecting the jewellery that was laid out in front for all to see.

I looked between both women, who I could only bet had gotten invites, it would be the only reason they would be talking so loudly about the fact the prince was to be married as soon as possible. It was typical for these kinds of wannabe girls to do so, parade the places of the unfortunate, and boast about their beauty and status.

On the other hand, for me, the news came as a glimpse of hope, a glimpse of promise, and a way to put into action what I had been longing to do since I was 12 years old.

"The prince isn't married," I whispered to myself a little too loud as their women cleared their throats with frowns on their faces as I looked up at them as they huffed and stifled out chuckles as they walked off.

I spent the rest of my shift in a wonder bubble. I hadn't seen the prince since I was 12, and he was now 40 years old, unmarried, and this was an opportunity that I could take and use to my advantage, to my greatest pleasure.

For 14 years, I had drawn out a plan, a scheme. I needed to teach the people that sat on the throne of Prothabia that they had allowed a child, one of there own, to be abandoned, left on her own to live as if she didn't need parents, she didn't need guidance, and nobody came for me, not even the royals wanted to help me.

So I went about drawing out what I was needing to do, and with the news that the queen had now put out a word of interest in seeing her son married, there went the green light for action step one: become the women of this mans dreams.

But I couldn't go strolling in as the Caspian they knew when I was 12. Oh no, I doubt they remembered her very well, but I needed to do some beauty control, and I knew exactly what I needed to do.

Laying everything out on the kitchen table, I gathered my tabletop mirror and gave myself an evil smirk. This was the start of the beginning of the end; I was about to do whatever it took to do what I needed to do.