Chapter 1
My eyes open to the dazzling rising sun, like a warm current grazing against my skin. The sun’s warmth, almost inviting, flutters softly against the window still, and yet, I find myself reluctant to leave the comfort of my bed. Possibly because I know what I will find once I step outside my bedroom door, maids and servants hurtling through the corridors, the entire castle humming with the preparations for my upcoming seventeeth birthday, due in a short few days’ time. And it may seem odd that I might not feel excited about my special day, but as I’ve grown older, these celebrations have started being less about celebrating me, and more about celebrating the heir to the Bergaume throne. And a festivity that I once, would look forward to all year long, now had become nothing more than another responsibility I could no longer escape.
I lay in my bed for a few moments longer, the soft mattress enveloping my body like a cocoon as I think about the upcoming day, and a crushing feeling cast a shadow over my heart. I long for the days of more carefree celebrations but it now seems that my duties as heir have taken all the space in my life, dictating my every move, every event, as my mother never fails to remind me. For such is the life of one destined to wear the crown. A stifling wave of exhaustion washes over me as I picture the grand sophisticated ball that will be thrown in my honor, teeming with guests, everyone’s gaze fixed on me, analyzing my every movement, judging every word I will speak. I already know what this night will resemble, a night of maintained appearance where I will have to consider my every action with outmost care, leaving nothing up to chance. Pretending I’m every inch of the poised and graceful Princess I’m expected to be. Pretending I can someday be worthy of the Bergaume throne, as though this seat isn’t so much bigger than myself.
A soft sigh ripples through my throat. In this moment of silence, where I can almost feel the light of the room pressing on me, I find myself craving for a much simpler birthday. No ball, no officials, no court laws, no expectations to live up to, no forced smiles or controlled behavior. Just a cake, and a genuine little moment. But I know that these sweet illusions wandering around in my head are just that, illusions, for this can never be the life of a future ruler. I was, after all, bestowed with that fate through blood, and this legacy is one I can never deny or elude. It is my duty, my destiny, and a heavy one to carry. And not one I’m unwilling to live up, but that I’m overwhelmed to.
After a few shorts moments, I finally manage to push my body off the mattress and make my way to the bathroom, where a warm bath is being drawn for me by a maid. As she hears me enter, she instantly lifts her eyes to me, before giving me a respectful bow. “Your highness, the water is ready.” She indicates.
“Thank you” I reply as she gives me a warm smile.
“Your mother asked me to inform you that the designer will come to meet with you in the morning to present you with several dresses for the ball. She asks that you’d be ready to receive them in an hour.”
I nod, faintly, trying to stop another sigh from leaving my lips. This was going to be a long day, wasn’t it? The maid leaves, closing the door on her way out as I plunge myself into the bath. The warm water ripples through the edges of the bathtub as I close my eyes for a moment, trying to clasp at an elusive moment of peace in the midst of the chaos erupting in my mind. But even the hot water, cradling me like a comforting embrace can’t really appease my turmoil. I remain in the water for twenty minutes before emerging and heading to the cupboard where a series of beautiful and elegant dresses are lined up. I selecta simple black dress, one that would be quick to put on and remove. After all, I have no doubt that today will involve too many dress fittings. I pass the dress over my head, pulling it down before brushing it down my body. I then grab the red ribbon on my nightstand and tie my long black hair in a braid. Once I am ready, I tread down the staircase. My feet clamp down the cool tiles as I make my way downstairs, everywhere I look, servants, maids and butlers scurrying left and right, busy with the preparations of the ball. As my eyes dwell on the buzzing surrounding me, a quiet exhaustion settles in my heart.
I step in the living room, instantly noticing my mother standing at the center of the room. Beside her, is a young woman with glasses gesturing, seemingly offering her with different options from her to choose from. They are so deep conversation, discussing the importance of me wearing the perfect dress for the event that they do not even hear me approaching. “No, that’s not right” Katherine dismisses one of the gowns the designer had presented her with. Katherine taps her head frustratedly, her thick black hair drifting in front of her severe chestnut eyes as she declares: “Red is too bold, too showy. We need something sophisticated, that speaks of grace and elegance, an attire fit for a future Queen.”
I nearas the designer removes the red dress from Katherine’s sight and presents her with several other options that don’t seem to content her any further. Katherine shakes her head in discontent, as the designer keeps unravelling more and more dresses to her exigent watchful eyes. I stand still for a moment, watching Katherine scurry through the dresses meticulously, taking into consideration how every detail will make me look. My eyes lift toward hers, but her attention doesn’t waver from her objective. She remains focused, not even deigning to acknowledge my presence. But after all these years, I can’t say my mother’s ignorance is something that still surprises me. After all, she doesn’t see me as her daughter. All I am to her, is all I am to be: a future Queen. Our every interactions are shaped around that sore thing. She isn’t my mother, but my Royal counselor, and not the kind one would want. The kind who is bossy, demanding, harsh, and yet, somehow, still manages to be eerily cold and distant. I got many things from Katherine, but the one I never got, was a mother. All I am to her, is a project, a responsibility, and not even one she particularly even likes. Maybe that’s not the word for it, responsibility. Maybe the word burden would be a more accurate one. Yes, that’s it, a burden. My mother has quite the reputation. She’s a feared woman. Her ruthlessness and cold façade both command seething dread and respect, but there are two things that are widely known about her. First, she isn’t someone to be trifled with. Crossing Katherine of Bergaume, well now, it’s no different that unleashing a storm that will engulf you without mercy. Second of all, I am the child she despises. The child she could never love. And if there is something I hate even more than the entire idea of this ball, is listening to Katherine’s advice and comments, pretending to have these polite conversations with her when deep down, all her heart has in store for me…is hatred. Or disinterest at best. And I’m not even quite sure which would actually be the worst between hatred or ignorance. Hatred would at least mean that I inspire something inside her. Somehow, it almost seems better than nothingness.
“Magana, here. This one will do nicely” Katherine declares after a few minutes, finally acknowledging my presence. She hands me a beautiful dark blue dress horned with drapes and a few ornaments reassembling sparkling stars dispersed through a night sky.
I grip the dress, that feels so heavy in my arms, almost like a dead weight that I do not care to carry. “Try it on. Let’s see how it is.” I move behind the curtain that was settled for me, almost grudgingly, as I ready myself to try the dress. I remove my clothes and start snaking my way into the heavy and constricting dress. As soon as it falls around my shoulders, it feels like putting on a heavy-tone armor. It’s dense, tight, almost blocking the air from my lungs. “Let us see it” Katherine commands. I step from behind the curtain as she studies the outfit intently. After a moment, she paces up to me and tightens the corset further. My breath hitches as the air became sparser. The pressure of the corset is suffocating, but I say nothing. I had learned long ago that it was no use resisting my mother’s demands at times like these. “You need to stand straight. You need to look the part tomorrow.” Katherine asserts.
My eyes raise to meet hers as my mind is swirling with millions of thoughts. Indignation, anger, frustration all merge into my head, demanding to be let out, but I just remain silent, realizing it would not serve me to utter any of them right now. I simply let my eyes drift to the mirror for a moment, my gaze lingering on this image of the perfect princess, the one Katherine is trying to mold me into, and I am left with a crippling feeling of unease, feeling like this image doesn’t fit who I am. Because it doesn’t. And we both know it. That’s why she is so frustrated and I’m so irritated.
Katherine eventually steps back, giving me a nod of approval. “Here we go, that’s perfect. You’ll need to behave during the ball. Tomorrow will be a very important day and there will be a lot of important people here. You know better than anyone that appearances are everything. You will be judged on it, in just one look. So you cannot get it wrong. Don’t give people any reason to talk ill about you. Doing so is giving them weapons to use against you, so don’t give them ammunition. Do you understand me?” she asks, controlling.
I do understand. More than she knows. But I almost wished I didn’t.
I let out a gasp, feeling the corset pressing against my chest, almost smothering me. “Don’t grunt. Don’t show weakness.” She adds.
“It’s just….very tight. And the dress is so heavy.” I groan, my frustration threatening to boil over.
“You know what else is heavy? The crow that will one day rest on your head. And trust me, it will be way heavier than that dress.”
I withhold a grunt of outrage, pushing down the outburst that is on the verge of overcoming me. My body is coiled under the pressure, my muscles tense from holding back. Yes, my mother loathes me, but maybe there were times, when I also did. For treating me like a commodity, like I was nothing but the head that would wear the Bergaume crown.
After a few seconds, Katherine takes a step back, seemingly satisfied with the outcome of this dress fitting. I remain silent as she exits the room without another word. I am left standing there, with her words sipping into my bones, leaving me seething with unbridled rage.
