Once Upon A Princess

6: Midnight Visitor

Amelia heard her door open and, in the haze of interrupted sleep, realized that the sun hadn't risen. No one should be coming to wake her up yet. She bolted up, but her eyes only saw the dark, looming shapes of her furniture.

"Calm down."

That was her mother's voice. She shrank back; she couldn't help it.

The lamp on her nightstand was lit, and out of the darkness came her mother's face. The yellow shade flickered on her angles, making her face looking almost macabre and gaunt as the shadows hollowed out her features. Her usual pale face was washed out by the waxy yellow. Her eyes, the same blue as Amelia's, were paler under the glow.

"What do you want?" Amelia whispered. She was afraid of the walls hearing her, which didn't make any sense. Maybe she was still delirious from sleep.

"I want you to listen," Rowena replied, her voice almost husky. Maybe she was sleepy too. She came to sit down on the bed, and Amelia saw that her mother's inky black hair was pulled back into a simple braid, much more plain than usual. Her nightgown was pink, almost red in the dim light.

"Okay, I will," she obeyed. She sat up straight, feeling her back against the bed frame. She couldn't scoot any farther away from the queen, even if she wanted to.

Rowena had the presence of mind to always look calm and controlled, even right before she was going to strike. She looked calm now, her face a mess of unreadable emotion. Sometimes, Amelia could spot the danger before it came. But if there was any now, she couldn't tell. That was the scariest part: the anticipation.

She pulled the covers up around her shoulders, like a physical barrier, flimsy though it was. Rowena, sitting on top of the covers, frowned as they moved underneath her. She breathed loudly, in and out. The flame of the lamp seemed to flicker, though it shouldn't have been moved at all. Shadows danced along the walls.

"You know how your father gets. He'll give you anything you want in the world. It's turned you spoiled rotten, I've no doubt about that." The queen did not whisper, per say, but her voice was soft, even if the words were hard and tempered as steel.

She paused, as if challenging Amelia to retort. But the princess's bravery was gone, and so she stayed silent.

"It has made you selfish, too. Your little act today did no one any favors. Pretending to drown for attention is really quite low, even for you."

Amelia felt her cheeks heating up; her stomach boiling with new anger. But she bit the inside of her cheek, keeping her emotions at bay. If her mother was looking to get a reaction out of her, then she wouldn't let her.

The queen looked dissatisfied with Amelia's quiet attitude. The princess did not know if she wanted this. Should she placate her and retort? Stay silent and take the verbal blows? Before she could decide the queen continued.

"Anyway, it's lucky that there was a guard was there to save you. He's nice, isn't he? I rather like him myself." She smiled then, a wicked curve to her beautiful features.

And she was beautiful, Amelia realized. It was a sharp, tantalizing, and very common sort of pretty. Amelia had never quite grasped her parents or their love. But now, she realized, maybe her mother didn't like being with her dad for his looks. He was quite a bit older than her, and it was obvious when they stood side by side. Her father always talked about her mother's beauty, how radiant and perfect she was. He obviously loved her, but did she feel the same? It made Amelia's heart thrum sickeningly, like the dreadful toll of a bell.

"He is nice," she replied carefully. "I think. He doesn't talk much."

Rowena laughed. It was a biting laugh, quick and sharp and loud. She suddenly scooted very close, eyes searching for something in their pair. She didn't seem to find any answers, and yet Amelia did not feel like she was finished.

"You think he's handsome, yes? That makes sense. He is handsome. You'd be a fool, a blind fool, not to see it," the queen mused, mostly to herself.

Amelia felt her neck getting hot. What did she mean? What could she possibly gain from this line of questioning? If she were any ordinary mother, seeking out her daughter's crush might seem normal. But the queen was no ordinary mother.

The queen backed away again, giving Amelia air to breathe. Then she sighed, as if the task of sitting on her daughter's bed and talking to her was a great, laborious thing.

In what seemed like a flash the queen's hand came out, too quick for Amelia to pick up in the murk of sleep she was in. Her finger was under Amelia's chin, jerking her face up. Her nail dug into the base of her neck and chin. Amelia gasped, once, but stopped as soon as she felt the painful prick into her skin. She froze, so still that only the shallow breath entering her chest was the only indication she wasn't a statue.

Rowena kept a steady gaze on Amelia; almost as if she was interested in her. She'd moved herself closer again, eyes wide as they studied her daughter's face with intense, oppressive scrutiny. Then she moved her finger away, taking care to scratch along Amelia's skin as she did so. It was faint enough there would be no mark, but hard enough Amelia felt the sting.

Before Amelia could move away, the queen grabbed her face, squishing Amelia's cheeks between her palm. Her fingers, long and slender, extended upwards to encase the whole side of Amelia's face. The queen moved her daughter's face around, rotating it every way it could go. Then she started to stretch it, pinching at the baby fat and letting it bounce back into place. The whole time Amelia refused to move, to speak, to cry. She made no sound at all, letting her mother play with her face with no protest.

This had happened before, and Amelia learned to fade away in those small minutes where she couldn't control her own body. This time, she pictured herself in a snowy forest, the trees sparse and white and sparkling with the dusted frost of winter. She was wearing a deep green cape, lined with fur. She couldn't even feel the biting cold, only on her cheeks and lips, which had chapped beyond repair. There was her father, wearing an equally warm cape. He was fit, healthy, strong. He was laughing, the big boom of a sound that lit up the whole area. He threw a snowball at her; he must've been hiding it behind his back. She ran sideways, bending down to scoop up her own snowball. She threw, barely missing him as he stepped away.

They had barely gotten started with their game before another figure appeared from the woods. There was her mom, carrying a child. The child was small, much smaller than Amelia. It was a little girl, and the queen let her down as she noticed her family and protested the slow stride. The small girl donned another cape that seemed too big for her, as it dragged on the snow-covered ground behind her as she ran. Beneath the hood peeked out some frizzy black hair. She was laughing as she made her way clumsily to the king, her nose bright red and eyes dancing.

Dad waited eagerly for the arrival of the girl, and picked her up when she finally collided with him, twirling her around in the air and laughing. Amelia ran to them. The girl greeted her. She had the same brown eyes as father, a spatter of freckles already adorning her cheeks and nose. They played in the snow, too many laughs to count.

The shocking, final twist of pain pulled her out of her dream. Her mother had yanked upwards, so Amelia was nearly looking at the top of her bed. Somewhere, her daydream had turned into a real dream. It had been a nice escape from reality, for a while.

Rowena, unaware that Amelia hadn't even been paying attention to what she was doing, clicked her tongue as she brought Amelia's head back to a level state.

"How could I have possibly made you?" she whispered, fierce and honest. The queen made a disgusted noise once in her throat, shaking her head. She finally released her hand, knowing full well her words were a different kind of vice. "You're ugly, and selfish, and pampered. There's no place for you in my future." Then she stood up, leaving the room as silently and ghostly as she'd entered. The door closed with a decided thud. Amelia nearly threw herself flat onto her bed, allowing one tear to slip down her face as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying hard to forget that she'd lost any sleep tonight.