A/N I hated writing this chapter, and the unedited version is probably by far my worst one yet, but thankfully Simone saved it! <3 I can not thank her enough for all of the help she's given me, and I am very grateful! :)
The rattling and the occasional train whistle is immediately forgiven by me, in light of our seating arrangements. We are given the car reserved for the rulers, and our seats are more like velvet-covered settees. Next to us, there is a bed, along with a door leading to our private lavatory. A delicate chain is placed next to us, for whenever we would like to call the staff. Being the princess has its perks, apparently.
Next to a window, her face framed by the sun, sits Eliza, staring off into nothingness. Looking at her, I feel a sudden urge to talk.
"Eliza?" I call. She doesn't hear me. I try again, louder. “Eliza!”
She is wrenched out of her daze. "Oh! Pardon me, did you say something?"
"I was just going to ask if you would finally tell me where we're staying."
When she became my official Maid-in-Waiting, the management of my affairs reverted from my parents to her. That includes finding a suitable place to stay whenever I travel.
"Fine." Her voice drips with exasperation. "You really don't like surprises, do you?" She doesn't wait for my answer before continuing.
"We will be residing in my family's summer property. We haven't visited since I was nine, so it'll be nice to be back, I suppose." She speaks emotionlessly, but I can tell that she is bursting at the seams with excitement.
"Oh, that will be wonderful. I can't wait to see it!"
She rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless.
"You are such a kiss-up!"
"Only for you."
She playfully shoves me in the shoulder, but she starts laughing. I join in, and I’m slowly realizing that there is nowhere I'd rather be.
+++
Our train ride goes marvelously and without a hitch, but I am still glad to go outside again. There’s an unexpected beauty here, a glow that can only come from the bright golden sunlight that appears to leave no shadows. The sunbeams feel like a shower of warmth, of comfort, of everything my parents hate and I love. I almost want to frolic through a patch of wildflowers.
Behind me, the footmen are removing our heap of trunks from the train, guided by Eliza. The guards observe us and our surroundings, silent and cold statues. I was able to convince my mother that I wouldn’t need any maids or the like, but she insisted that I bring a few footmen for the journey and a dozen members of the royal guard to stay. I think it overkill, but she was unrelenting that I would need the guards for protection. From what, I don’t know, and I’m not sure I would like to.
I spot Eliza struggling with one of our more personal trunks, and try to help her. Our attempts are futile, however, as we can barely pick them up and almost drop them on my feet.
"Remind me why we packed so much?" I ask Eliza, breathing hard and cursing my corset.
"Because I always come extremely over-prepared." She adjusts her gloves, checking to make sure they have no tears.
"Of course, your preparedness,” I say sarcastically. “I wouldn't want to be left without a winter coat in the middle of summer!"
"I know you're trying to make fun of me, but you never know what will happen! Life has a reputation of being unpredictable."
I shake my head in disbelief and walk over to where the footmen are now about to lift our luggage onto a carriage, Eliza following after me. The royal guards move in sync with me, as if I were pulling them along. If they notice Eliza and my lack of formality, they do not acknowledge it.
"Alright, we'll just load as many trunks as we can onto the carriage, and the rest will be put onto a separate one.”
She steps in front of me, ordering the footmen. “Make sure to load the trucks carrying clothing first.” As they immediately start following her orders, she murmurs under her breath, “I'm sure you'd like to get out of these coats."
Eliza had made some long traveling coats, and while they were comfortable, it was rather hot on the train, and I was itching to get out mine. She seemed to share my thoughts and was close from taking it off right here, however indecent it may be.
"That's probably a good idea. It's already three o'clock, so we don't have much time. Who are we visiting today?" As I speak, a sudden gust of strong wind blows my hair into my face, the intricate styling of this morning long gone.
"The McKinsleys. We'll also have to fix your hair when we get back," She adds with a smirk, noticing the pitiful state of my hair.
I laugh and say, "Thank goodness! This wind really did come out of nowhere."
"As I said, life has a reputation of being unpredictable. But sometimes not in the way we expect."
+++
After about half an hour, Eliza, two guards, and I pile into a carriage, which now has two large horses hitched to it. The rest of the guards have disappeared, but I don’t doubt that they are hidden nearby.
The uneven road makes our trip rather bumpy, which is uncomfortable, yet fun. Even if I must deal with a jerky ride, this is not something that I experience often.
I can tell why the rebels have chosen to control things from out here. And while there are only five farms in total, three of them house rebel-affiliated families.
"There it is!" Eliza says excitedly, shaking me from my thoughts.
A huge house is in the distance, getting larger as we near. A few minutes later, I see it's painted a bright yellow, with white trim.
"Are you excited to see your childhood vacation destination?" I ask her.
"I mean, I haven't been here in over ten years, so I guess I am!"
And she looks happy, too. Her red hair is glowing in the sunlight, and her eyes are bright and full of excitement.
After about ten minutes, we come to a stop outside of the house.
We get out of the wagon and open the door. The inside is untouched by age, and it's like walking into a room that has been frozen in time. The only thing that shows proof of time is the vases of dead roses, only held together by sheer will. I gently brush a rose's petals, and they disintegrate like they never existed.
Eliza shoos me up the stairs into a white room that only contains a chair and an ornate vanity, its mirror covered in a thick layer of dust.
She opens a drawer and pulls out a silver box. The guards haul the trunks inside, before setting off in the wagon to retrieve the others.
"What am I wearing today, my lady?" I ask in a pompous voice.
She ignores my tone, in full serious mode. "The lavender one. And I was going to cut your hair."
I stare in disbelief. "Are you serious? My mother would kill me!"
"But you'd look so cute with short hair! Maybe not now, but when we get back, you need to ask her. Agreed?"
"Fine," I mumble, with little intention of following through with it. She puts the box away, and grabs a hairbrush.
I sit down at the vanity, and she starts brushing. For a while, the only sound is her dragging the brush through my hair, but our silence does not last for long.
"Your mother called for me yesterday. She wanted to know if you had any suitors she should know about."
"And what did you tell her?" I venture. It is not out of character for my mother to interrogate a friend for information about me, but I am irritated nonetheless.
"I told her that I didn't know. But you need to pick someone, Eira. Otherwise, your parents will pick for you."
I sigh, not willing to have this conversation. The weight of my princessly duties seems to fall back on my shoulders. "I know. It's just hard to find someone who I can trust. And with all this rebel business..." I trail off, hoping for that to be the end.
It almost is, as our silence fills the room again, until she speaks again. "Just so you know, my brother fancies you."
I nearly fall off of my chair in shock. "You're kidding.” She shakes her head in reply. "Frederick? Really?"
"I mean, it's not that unbelievable. You're beautiful, regal, and not to mention, you’re the heir to the throne! Who can blame him?" She pauses for a moment, before continuing. "Plus, it might be useful to have a rebel in your courts."
“I’m not going to marry a person purely because they’re useful.” I snap. “How did I miss this? How long has he—"
"About two years." She interrupts. "On another topic, I've finished your hair, so let's go get dressed."
I ignore her impertinence, my surprise overshadowing any offense I may feel.
She leads me to my rooms, before going downstairs to grab our dresses. When she comes back, draped over her arm are two dresses, one of lavender and the other of yellow. Her other hand holds two pairs of shoes to go with the dresses, which she leaves by the closed door. She sets the yellow one on my bed, and holds up the other. “What do you think?”
I take it, the lavender fabric, light and airy, perfect for summer. “As beautiful as always,” I say, a smile widening on my face.
She helps me into it. I stand in the mirror, admiring her handiwork. It is a sundress, with off-shoulder straps far to risqué to wear in front of my mother. The tight bodice is beaded with metallic beads, which disperse into patterns hinting at leaves on the skirt. At my waist, it puffs out dramatically, the shape resembling a ballgown, the soft fabrics shifting into layers upon layers of light purple hues. When the light catches at the right angle, it looks like the brightest white, and I appear angelic. I slip on the shoes, a delicate pair of lavender ballet flats, and I can’t help but notice that her shoes are in the same style as mine. Perhaps we’ll match?
She leaves to go to her room, taking her dress and shoes with her, and I walk around my room. Despite the many layers of material required to get such a dramatic shape, it feels as airy as ever, just about tickling my legs. The light color will allow me to stay cool in the sun, and it is one of the least stuffy dresses that I’ve ever worn. Really quite perfect for the summer.
There’s a knock at my door. “Come in,” I call.
Eliza waltzes in, and sure enough, we're matching. Her dress is the same style as mine, but yellow. And her shoes are lavender, matching my dress. We're quite a pair.
"Looking good, your Highness." She smirks.
"Oh, yes. My seamstress is quite talented. You would like her, I imagine." I say, coyly, matching her smirk with one of my own.
"I'm sure I would. She sounds very interesting. Pretty, too."
I can not thank her enough for all of the help she's given me, and I am very grateful! :)
The rattling and the occasional train whistle is immediately forgiven by me, in light of our seating arrangements. We are given the car reserved for the rulers, and our seats are more like velvet-covered settees. Next to us, there is a bed, along with a door leading to our private lavatory. A delicate chain is placed next to us, for whenever we would like to call the staff. Being the princess has its perks, apparently.
Next to a window, her face framed by the sun, sits Eliza, staring off into nothingness. Looking at her, I feel a sudden urge to talk.
"Eliza?" I call. She doesn't hear me. I try again, louder. “Eliza!”
She is wrenched out of her daze. "Oh! Pardon me, did you say something?"
"I was just going to ask if you would finally tell me where we're staying."
When she became my official Maid-in-Waiting, the management of my affairs reverted from my parents to her. That includes finding a suitable place to stay whenever I travel.
"Fine." Her voice drips with exasperation. "You really don't like surprises, do you?" She doesn't wait for my answer before continuing.
"We will be residing in my family's summer property. We haven't visited since I was nine, so it'll be nice to be back, I suppose." She speaks emotionlessly, but I can tell that she is bursting at the seams with excitement.
"Oh, that will be wonderful. I can't wait to see it!"
She rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless.
"You are such a kiss-up!"
"Only for you."
She playfully shoves me in the shoulder, but she starts laughing. I join in, and I’m slowly realizing that there is nowhere I'd rather be.
+++
Our train ride goes marvelously and without a hitch, but I am still glad to go outside again. There’s an unexpected beauty here, a glow that can only come from the bright golden sunlight that appears to leave no shadows. The sunbeams feel like a shower of warmth, of comfort, of everything my parents hate and I love. I almost want to frolic through a patch of wildflowers.
Behind me, the footmen are removing our heap of trunks from the train, guided by Eliza. The guards observe us and our surroundings, silent and cold statues. I was able to convince my mother that I wouldn’t need any maids or the like, but she insisted that I bring a few footmen for the journey and a dozen members of the royal guard to stay. I think it overkill, but she was unrelenting that I would need the guards for protection. From what, I don’t know, and I’m not sure I would like to.
I spot Eliza struggling with one of our more personal trunks, and try to help her. Our attempts are futile, however, as we can barely pick them up and almost drop them on my feet.
"Remind me why we packed so much?" I ask Eliza, breathing hard and cursing my corset.
"Because I always come extremely over-prepared." She adjusts her gloves, checking to make sure they have no tears.
"Of course, your preparedness,” I say sarcastically. “I wouldn't want to be left without a winter coat in the middle of summer!"
"I know you're trying to make fun of me, but you never know what will happen! Life has a reputation of being unpredictable."
I shake my head in disbelief and walk over to where the footmen are now about to lift our luggage onto a carriage, Eliza following after me. The royal guards move in sync with me, as if I were pulling them along. If they notice Eliza and my lack of formality, they do not acknowledge it.
"Alright, we'll just load as many trunks as we can onto the carriage, and the rest will be put onto a separate one.”
She steps in front of me, ordering the footmen. “Make sure to load the trucks carrying clothing first.” As they immediately start following her orders, she murmurs under her breath, “I'm sure you'd like to get out of these coats."
Eliza had made some long traveling coats, and while they were comfortable, it was rather hot on the train, and I was itching to get out mine. She seemed to share my thoughts and was close from taking it off right here, however indecent it may be.
"That's probably a good idea. It's already three o'clock, so we don't have much time. Who are we visiting today?" As I speak, a sudden gust of strong wind blows my hair into my face, the intricate styling of this morning long gone.
"The McKinsleys. We'll also have to fix your hair when we get back," She adds with a smirk, noticing the pitiful state of my hair.
I laugh and say, "Thank goodness! This wind really did come out of nowhere."
"As I said, life has a reputation of being unpredictable. But sometimes not in the way we expect."
+++
After about half an hour, Eliza, two guards, and I pile into a carriage, which now has two large horses hitched to it. The rest of the guards have disappeared, but I don’t doubt that they are hidden nearby.
The uneven road makes our trip rather bumpy, which is uncomfortable, yet fun. Even if I must deal with a jerky ride, this is not something that I experience often.
I can tell why the rebels have chosen to control things from out here. And while there are only five farms in total, three of them house rebel-affiliated families.
"There it is!" Eliza says excitedly, shaking me from my thoughts.
A huge house is in the distance, getting larger as we near. A few minutes later, I see it's painted a bright yellow, with white trim.
"Are you excited to see your childhood vacation destination?" I ask her.
"I mean, I haven't been here in over ten years, so I guess I am!"
And she looks happy, too. Her red hair is glowing in the sunlight, and her eyes are bright and full of excitement.
After about ten minutes, we come to a stop outside of the house.
We get out of the wagon and open the door. The inside is untouched by age, and it's like walking into a room that has been frozen in time. The only thing that shows proof of time is the vases of dead roses, only held together by sheer will. I gently brush a rose's petals, and they disintegrate like they never existed.
Eliza shoos me up the stairs into a white room that only contains a chair and an ornate vanity, its mirror covered in a thick layer of dust.
She opens a drawer and pulls out a silver box. The guards haul the trunks inside, before setting off in the wagon to retrieve the others.
"What am I wearing today, my lady?" I ask in a pompous voice.
She ignores my tone, in full serious mode. "The lavender one. And I was going to cut your hair."
I stare in disbelief. "Are you serious? My mother would kill me!"
"But you'd look so cute with short hair! Maybe not now, but when we get back, you need to ask her. Agreed?"
"Fine," I mumble, with little intention of following through with it. She puts the box away, and grabs a hairbrush.
I sit down at the vanity, and she starts brushing. For a while, the only sound is her dragging the brush through my hair, but our silence does not last for long.
"Your mother called for me yesterday. She wanted to know if you had any suitors she should know about."
"And what did you tell her?" I venture. It is not out of character for my mother to interrogate a friend for information about me, but I am irritated nonetheless.
"I told her that I didn't know. But you need to pick someone, Eira. Otherwise, your parents will pick for you."
I sigh, not willing to have this conversation. The weight of my princessly duties seems to fall back on my shoulders. "I know. It's just hard to find someone who I can trust. And with all this rebel business..." I trail off, hoping for that to be the end.
It almost is, as our silence fills the room again, until she speaks again. "Just so you know, my brother fancies you."
I nearly fall off of my chair in shock. "You're kidding.” She shakes her head in reply. "Frederick? Really?"
"I mean, it's not that unbelievable. You're beautiful, regal, and not to mention, you’re the heir to the throne! Who can blame him?" She pauses for a moment, before continuing. "Plus, it might be useful to have a rebel in your courts."
“I’m not going to marry a person purely because they’re useful.” I snap. “How did I miss this? How long has he—"
"About two years." She interrupts. "On another topic, I've finished your hair, so let's go get dressed."
I ignore her impertinence, my surprise overshadowing any offense I may feel.
She leads me to my rooms, before going downstairs to grab our dresses. When she comes back, draped over her arm are two dresses, one of lavender and the other of yellow. Her other hand holds two pairs of shoes to go with the dresses, which she leaves by the closed door. She sets the yellow one on my bed, and holds up the other. “What do you think?”
I take it, the lavender fabric, light and airy, perfect for summer. “As beautiful as always,” I say, a smile widening on my face.
She helps me into it. I stand in the mirror, admiring her handiwork. It is a sundress, with off-shoulder straps far to risqué to wear in front of my mother. The tight bodice is beaded with metallic beads, which disperse into patterns hinting at leaves on the skirt. At my waist, it puffs out dramatically, the shape resembling a ballgown, the soft fabrics shifting into layers upon layers of light purple hues. When the light catches at the right angle, it looks like the brightest white, and I appear angelic. I slip on the shoes, a delicate pair of lavender ballet flats, and I can’t help but notice that her shoes are in the same style as mine. Perhaps we’ll match?
She leaves to go to her room, taking her dress and shoes with her, and I walk around my room. Despite the many layers of material required to get such a dramatic shape, it feels as airy as ever, just about tickling my legs. The light color will allow me to stay cool in the sun, and it is one of the least stuffy dresses that I’ve ever worn. Really quite perfect for the summer.
There’s a knock at my door. “Come in,” I call.
Eliza waltzes in, and sure enough, we're matching. Her dress is the same style as mine, but yellow. And her shoes are lavender, matching my dress. We're quite a pair.
"Looking good, your Highness." She smirks.
"Oh, yes. My seamstress is quite talented. You would like her, I imagine." I say, coyly, matching her smirk with one of my own.
"I'm sure I would. She sounds very interesting. Pretty, too."
"Oh, indeed.”