"Well, He's obviously well trained." She says, their eyes locking.
"You flatter him." He chuckles. "He's a smash and grabber, nothing more." He says as he shakes his head.
In which Lady Dahlia of Nottingham has to make difficult decisions between fa...
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It was surprisingly quiet in the big mansion. No maids running around or guards feet shuffling against the white tiles. But what would you expect, it was in the middle of the night after all. Everyone was asleep, except for one person. And some of the mansions guards of course. But they were stationed no where near the young woman making her way to the balustrade of the stairway. She touched the dark polished wood with her left hand softly before looking over it to sneak a peek to the floor below. Her red hair falling in front of her face as she did so. With her right hand she pushed her hair back behind her ears with a soft grunt. How annoying, she thought.
Her eyes glance back down to the large hall, it's floors carpented and clean. No one insight. With soft steps she made her way to the top of the stairway, taking a step down on the first step, but not before crouching down to look through the openings in the handrail once more. Still no one. The grin that appears on the face was one that could be described as one of triumph. She made her way down with careful steps. Making sure the stairway didn't creak under the weight of her body.
When she finally made it down, she made a beeline for the hall across from her. Two doors on each side of the walls. Reaching the door at the end on her left before looking back behind her to dubble check that no guard had heard her. As she nods to herself, her hand slightly pushing down the door handle as it squeaks under her touch. As quickly as she could she rushes inside but not before checking once again just to be sure. Her ears trying to hear for any form of sound. After not hearing any footsteps she let's out a sign of relieve and closes the door completely. I made it.
The only light in the room comes from the moon shining through the window. She spots one of the candles in the room near a bowl of red apples. A chuckle leaves her mouth, knowing she is smart enough to not light it. It could alert the guards outside and even, worse it might make them alert her father.
She should feel lucky to be the daughter of the sheriff of this god forsaken town she calls home. But she did not feel lucky at all. Her father was quite the character. He has her following rules that make her appear to be the perfect daughter. They appear to be in the perfect father-daughter relationship, but nothing was less from the truth. His strictness made her uneasy most of the times, but then again, what could she really do about it. Being somewhat the ruler of Nottingham, people would never question him about his methods. Well, not to his face atleast. Well, unless your name was Dahlia. Stubborn, hot headed and right now, hungry.
Dahlia looks around the kitchen. Eyes searching for something, anything, that wasn't just water, apple or bread.
And then she sees her price.
Plums.
She walks over to the small bowl as it's rests on the right side of the wooden kitchen counter. Nearly hidden in the shadows. Dahlia picks up one of the plums and softly squeezes it's skin. Firm and soft, perfect. She sets aside the fruit before getting a cutting board from the cabinet above her head and a knife from the drawer behind her. The knife glinsters in the moonlight as she cuts into the plum. Slowly and carefully not to cut into her own skin. With steady movements Dahlia cuts it in half, removes the seed from it's center and cuts it into eight smaller pieces. She places the knives on one of the rags she knows will be used to polish the cutlery in the morning. Turning her body to the counters behind her, she takes a step to reach for the cupboard to get a saucer from it's shelf. Grinning as she places the pieces on it to present it to herself.
"May I present to you, your midnight snack, my Lady." Dahlia tells herself, taking one of the pieces into her mouth and savoring the flavor. Even through she didn't want the to finish the plum, she knew she had to. She doesn't want to be discovered. She eats the remaining pieces and puts the saucer next to the knife. Melodie will find them in the early morning.
Melodie is the cook, a small, chubby lady with a strong accent and an amazing taste in food. She is someone Dahlia has known since she was born. Someone who would not rat her out to her father.
After putting everything away, Dahlia makes her way out of the kitchen and closes the door behind her softly. Trying once again to be as silent as possible. Though this time she forgets to check her surroundings first.
"Not again, my Lady?" a voice whispers behind her and she is scared for a slight moment."Why do you keep doing this Dahlia?" the voice of on older man, rough but wise with age. She turns to him on the balls of her feet.
"I was just a tad hungry, George." she spoke quietly as she looks up at the older guard.
George gives her a narrowed look. "You've lucky this time young Lady. I spotted a shadow walking about in the kitchen and knew it was you. What if it was someone else, huh?"
"If father would just let me eat more then 4 times a day, we wouldn't be in this position in the first place." he knows she is right. One of her fathers rules is to only eat what was required. Breakfast, lunch, a snack which was always a piece of fruit and most likely an apple and supper without a dessert. Not because they're poor, no, because it would fatten her up. His words. But just like Melodie she had known George since she was born. He is her fathers most trusted after all.
George offers her a small smile. "Well, you know now he is. Now of you go." Dahlia nods her head and gives him a smile that reaches her eyes. "And no more stealing Melodie's ingredients, please, my Lady."
As she walks away she grins back at him. "No promises there George."
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The bright sunlight hits her closed eyes as her curtains are being pulled open. "Rise and shine, my Lady. The eight bell just rang and your father is requesting your presence for breakfast."
"Thank you, Anne." Anne is one of her two chamber ladies. They prepare her for the day ahead. Get her to bath, cloth her do her hair. And Dahlia didn't like either of them. At all. She much rather do things her way herself. But her father insisted; "No lady should do things she doesn't have to. You will never find a husband if you did." she scoffs at her own thoughts.
"Something the matter, my lady?" Anne questions her, her eyes narrowing as she judges the redhead in front of her. On how she would like to be in her place.
"Nothing that is a matter to you."
"Well then, your bath is ready." Anne tells Dahlia as she turns her head away from her. "Whenever your ready, my Lady."
Dahlia gives her a simple nod before raising her arms above her head. Stretching her limbs. Turning her body to get out of the heaven she called her bed. Her feet hit the carpet on her floor. It covers most of her room. All but the small corner where her bath is placed. A bit of steam rolling of the sides as her eyes fall on it. With small steps she makes her way over to the water. It's stone silhouette filled with warm water and bubbles. She turns her head back just in time do see Anne leave the room and close the door behind her. Shrugging of her night gown before lifting her right leg to test the water. A shiver rolls up her spine as her toes meet the water. Perfect. She slowly lowers her foot in the water coming up to her knee before lifting her other leg inside. Then she lowers herself down into the water. She shivers once again as a feeling of relaxation comes over her. Her nose filling with a strong scent of roses and lavender. At least she knows what I like. She closes her eyes and let the warmth relax her.
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It's finally here! The first chapter of this story. I hope you like it! Let me know by voting/commenting☺️
