Dramatic things I wrote for no reason

The Immortal Princess

(I was trying to give this World Tales vibes, but I'm not sure how many people have read that book)

In the days long before the present, when kings and warlords claimed and ruled their land and kingdoms, there lived a particularly special monarch. You see, he was not born of royal blood, nor was he raised in a palace. His blood was that of a common man, and he was born in a shack in the outskirts of the village. But his heart was gold, and when the kingdom was first formed out of rebellion, the citizens saw none better fit to be their first king. And so it was that a common villager and his wife became the most beloved rulers in the world. They guided the newborn kingdom to prosperity with compassion and peace, and as such, never faced the threat of war or poverty. The kingdom quickly grew to be the wealthiest in all the world, and on the day when the king's first daughter was born, kings and queens, beggars and noblemen, fairies and common folk alike all came with gifts and blessing. The infant child was showered with gold and gifts before she had even begun to speak, but the king and queen thought of nothing but their precious daughter. As the days stretched on into years, the princess grew into a playful child, one who would run into her father's throne room during important meetings and climb into his lap. The king and queen - and the kingdom - adored her. The little princess continued to grow into a young woman, and each day, it became clear that she was going to be the loveliest of queens. Even though she soon had sisters and a brother, Princess Amarinthe remained the crown jewel of the kingdom. People traveled from around the world to meet the lovely young girl, and one day, a sorceress came to the kingdom from a far off kingdom of the jungle. The moment the sorceress first laid her eyes upon the beloved princess, she became immediately aware of how loved the girl was, how accepted and admired. She saw the townsfolk celebrating the princess's birthday with joy, offering her all they had as her gifts. It somehow made it worse that the virtuous princess refused to accept those gifts. The sorceress felt a cold hatred forming in her heart, fueled by envy and neglect. For years, the anger remained there, slowly hardening her heart until she couldn't ignore it any longer. And so, on the princess's eighteenth birthday, the sorceress entered the palace, interrupting the large party that was being thrown in honor of the Princess Amarinthe. But the sorceress was clever. She knew that she would be burned at the stake if she dared harm the princess. Instead, she announced loudly that she had come bearing a gift, a blessing. Calling upon her dark magic, she gave the princess the gift of immortality, making Amarinthe's veins run gold. Not many at the party realized that this was a curse, meant to ensure that the princess would live a sad and lonely life, after everyone she loved had died. Only the princess understood what the sorceress had done, and every night she wept bitterly in secret. Many, many years later, when the princess's husband passed away, and her younger siblings began to look more like her parents and aunts, people finally began to realize what had been done. Entire troops of soldiers were sent out to find the sorceress, but none were successful. The princess did her best to remain joyous and pleasant, but over time, as she attended the funerals of her parents, her five siblings, her nieces and nephews, their children, and so forth, she became desolate, quiet, and cold. She never remarried and never left the palace, refusing to bear any more heartbreak. And though she was often begged by her distant relatives to become the queen, she never accepted, choosing instead to remain the princess for all eternity. Word of her immortality spread across the world, and many came to see the immortal princess and ask for her guidance. She became known not only as the Immortal Princess, but as the wisest woman in all the world. Her immortality remained a great mystery, as no one dared ask the wilting princess about such a sensitive subject. However, after a thousand or so years, a king from a faraway kingdom became exceedingly curious, and sent three of his court advisers to speak with the woman. They traveled for many weeks, and when they finally reached the kingdom, they were greeted apprehensively.
"She doesn't like to speak," one of the servants whispered to them. "I reckon it bores her now, after a thousand years."
The three men entered the throne room, their eyes widening with each step they took. It seemed as though every stone in the wall, every thread of the floor's rich carpet, every sparkling glass window were each some sort of masterpiece that must be admired. As they approached the throne, they bowed to the king, a decrepit man with creases between every feature of his kind face. And in a simpler, smaller throne beside him sat a young woman, who could only be the princess, and the king's distant ancestor. A bejeweled tiara sat on her head, casting playful sunspots wherever her gaze was turned, which at the moment, happened to be a faded book in her lap. The leather cover was nestled safely into the silver folds of her gown, as the pages were turned by her  ancient, unwrinkled hands. She did not look up when they approached, nor when the king rose to greet them.
"You wish to speak with the princess?" he asked, his voice as crooked as the cracks on the stone floor.
"Yes, your Majesty." the first man, Ettrian replied, unable to keep his eagerness from his voice. "Does she accept?"
The king turned to the princess, who still had not shifted her gaze from the weathered pages of her book.
"Amarinthe." he said quietly, as though not to disturb some hidden animal crouched behind her polished throne.
The princess turned her head up at last, revealing a youthful face that had never seen the withering effects of time. Her skin was pale and clear, untouched by creases and sun. Her lips were round and childlike, and perhaps once, a thousand years ago, they might have even laughed. The only feature on her face that gave any hint as to who she was were her eyes. They held the kind of wisdom that only comes with great age, the kind that carries each swell of the ocean's waves, each star of the cosmos within their inky center. Their gaze pierced through the trio, sharp as a knife against bare skin, proving without words the authority of the fresh faced princess before them. Then, slowly and gracefully, she nodded her head a single time, and closed the book. The king smiled and looked back at the three men.
"She will listen." he informed them. "But speak quietly. She has no wish to be harassed by loud voices and demanding words."
Ettrian, and his two companions, Mindrol and Ithas, stepped forward, maintaining a respectful distance between themselves and the princess.
"Your Highness," Ettrian began. "Your immortality is mysterious and unknown. No one but you has ever experienced something like this. Would you describe what it is like?"
The princess's lips pursed, but she did not look surprised. In fact, her face remained entirely emotionless, as though she were past expressing her feelings after a thousand years. Her eyes flicked over to the tapestry on the wall. It had been woven when the palace had first been built, to celebrate the first royal family of the new kingdom. Next to the long-gone king, wearing a familiar silver gown, stood the eldest princess, no older than eighteen. Her smiling face was unchanged, but the girl in the tapestry still held an air of youth that the woman in the room had long since lost. The woman who sat upon the throne before them thought of the blurred days and endless years she'd endured. She thought of the hours that might as well have been weeks. She spoke, in a clear, strong voice, "Illusion."
Her stare then fell upon a gold framed mirror behind the three men, and she carefully studied the canvas of her face. She could see the exhaustion in her expression that no one else noticed. She could see the scars of devastation that her eyes still held onto. She could see the golden veins against her skin, the shimmering, evil veins that kept her alive against her will, forcing her to wake up each day, knowing it would never end. She let out a light breath, that no one would have guessed was a sigh. "Unrelenting."
Finally, she looked out the window, letting her gaze survey the vast gardens she had roamed joyfully as a child. How she had loved the tall leafy walls of her own little kingdom. She moved past the gardens and looked out onto the graveyard, her eyes tracing the shapes of her family's headstones. She could remember them, remember the love and the hate and the fights and the forgiveness. She could remember their funerals, as one by one, they left her. She could remember all of it, but she would not remember how to feel it. She'd lost the willingness to try long ago. But even still, her voice shook slightly as she spoke again. "Numb."
Then she let her hardened gaze fall back into the pages of her book as the three men said farewell and departed, in awe. Later that night, they would discuss the princess's answers, wondering how it was that she had remained sane and strong. And later that night, the princess herself would wonder the same thing, as again she searched her face in the mirror, not expecting but desperately hoping to find a wrinkle. She hated her strength, and how it had made her cold. She hated her sanity, and how it forced her to experience every terrible day. She hated the life giving ichor in her blood, she hated the gift she'd never asked for that had turned into a curse she didn't deserve. She hated that she knew death wouldn't come by her own hand, nor by another's. She hated how the only emotion she could bring herself to feel was hate. That night, just like every other night, the wise, strong, immortal princess prayed for death.

(I literally had absolutely no purpose for writing this, but I'm considering making it a short story 🤷🏻‍♀️)