Shattered Horizons

Chapter One: A Runaway

I dig my heels deeper into my horse, my hair flying around my head. The strands of hair getting stuck on my cheekbones, nose and chin are making it almost impossible for me to look straightforward.

It doesn't matter. The only way I can go is the path, and my horse just knows where that is.

Twigs and leaves are brushing my arms, legs, face and pulling my long hair into a mess as I gallop with my horse through the forest. They leave behind cuts and bruises for sure, but I'm in too much of a hurry to care.

It's not that I've actually planned anything out, but staying any longer in that godforsaken place is torture for me. Leaving is the only better option.

And to make the flight worth it, hurry is the only thing that will save me. Because the more distance I can put between me and the castle before anyone notices I am gone, the bigger chance I have to slip in society unnoticed.

With each tree passing by, the distance between me and the castle is increasing. With each thunder of my horses' hooves, I can feel the fear nagging my gut loosen. With each movement of the power beneath me, I can feel the feeling of freedom increase in my veins.

Yeah, the life of a princess isn't that glittering looking as it would seem. I've grown up behind the thick, wooden doors of the castle. It is a cold place, especially when the king and queen - my so-called parents - chose their duties to rule the country above raising their one and only child. I'd argued a lot and wasn't the quiet princess they wanted me to be. I did all sort of non-princess things. I'd disobey the rules, go in the villages without guards, rode my horse trough the forests and didn't follow my etiquette lessons. I could only dream about being a boy, so I could become a knight, or a something else that would include working in the fields, outside, with the fresh air tickling my nose. But unfortunately, my future, my fate - a fate I would not follow - would consist of only embroyding, eating, marrying and produce at least heir to the throne.

My parents never really felt like my family to me.

We share the same blood. That's it.

For the rest, they were always flat, cold people in my life that only cared about my education and physical health.

Not my desires.

Not my feelings.

The only people who truly took care of me when I grew up was the staff. The many maids, cooks, guards, gardeners and stable boys were always there for me. When I needed help to hide from my duties, when I needed to talk someone, when I needed answers to needed questions or when I desperately wanted to learn something normal kids would learn. It is thanks to them that I got some sort of normal childhood, and could feel free in some sort of way.

It was them who made me feel myself. Who made sure that I was not only healthy in a physical way, but also in an emotional way. They were always there for me.

And now I left them too.

And for the love of... everything the whole kingdom and far further than that loved, I hoped they won't be punished. Practically, they hadn't even done anything to help me. I took the horse that was 'coincidental' saddled in the stables. And I 'stole' the normal dressings one of the maids had left outside 'accidentally', myself. Just like the bag of food in the kitchen and the saddle bags full of necessities that was casually left next to the stables.

The bag is strapped tightly on my saddle as I canter in my emerald green dress with black cloak over a sandy road.

The emerald of my dress will catch some watchful eyes, just like the tack. Even a beggar can see that the leather is of high quality, and good maintained. I am glad I asked the maids to pack some of their spare clothing, instead of my own dresses. They key to hiding in plain sight, would be to wear the most discreet clothing.

And now the only thing that matters is getting away without being noticed, and merge into the society of the citizens.

And to finally live the life I always wanted. Even though it means I have to start over again in a new area.

But staying would not have been an option. I had always known that my father would have a marriage ready for me, with a man a little older than me. Or an old, grumpy, sweaty king. Or that he would arrange a tournament to choose the correct husband for me, out of the most fearsome men. At least I knew that I would never be able to marry for love, but for political relations.

But never, never did I think he wanted me to marry someone younger than me.

My oh so 'beloved' father thinks it would be nice for me to marry at my seventeen, with a boyish prince from only fifteen of a neighbouring kingdom to maintain good relations. In this way our kingdom would get a king of royal blood, and the strained ties between the kingdoms would be loosened.

Good for them.

But me? No. I would be sold like a brood mare, to keep your neighbour as your friend.

Yesterday evening I heard the news, and now, not even twelve hours later, I rode out at dusk.

And if it's for me, to never return.

The king told me the marriage would do the country well, and that I should do it for the people. He told me I should be loyal to him, and do as he says. But I have decided a long time ago, that I am loyal to only one person: myself. Not my father, nor my country.

I just hope I made clear that I, princess Briana Cliona Sile Moina of Diatgee, I am not a gift from someone to give to another.

For now on, I am Bri, the silent girl with her story yet to be told