── when a princess finally leaves her
tower after many years of isolation.
having lost sense of a home
and unaware of the faults in
her past, she paves her
way through family, love
and ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ hardships.
revamp: ( 03...
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"And when I was able to bring back a bouquet of flowers,"
Marianne chuckled, "You don't know how big your smile was."
"I must've been a silly child." The Princess sighed.
"Silly?" Her blue eyes swelled with tears, "Never. You were never so."
Y/n kicked a rock, and as it gently rolled over, a question came to her mind. "You never told me about yourself. Even when I was young, I was clueless about you."
"There's truly nothing to say." The older woman shook her head. "I was a plain old girl. Sixteen when I had you in my arms. The king...entrusted me with you."
The Princess stopped to look at her nanny, her old nanny, and opened her mouth. "You were sixteen?"
"Just about."
Little Y/n had never once thought that Marianne was a child, taking care of another child.
"So young..."
She looked at Marianne again, and noticed her eyes weren't clouded like Heinrey's brother. When she smiled they still sparkled like two thin diamonds, and her lips weren't shrivelled like the white haired monarchs' painted portraits. She had looked so old to the Princess, yet to others, she still had her whole life in front of her.
Another agonising silence passed, which seemed to give both of them some space to think.
Y/n's whole world had always been her nanny, who was the only human in the tower besides herself. They'd do everything together, and sometimes there were some disagreements once the Princess got older, but it was nothing they couldn't solve.
Perhaps the naïve girl at the time wasn't conscious enough to appreciate Marianne.
Y/n blinked away hot tears that stung her eyes and made her nose tingle.
"I don't want to hate you." She frowned, teeth biting the inside of her cheek.
"I don't want you to hate me either."
The Princess had constantly been thinking, all her life. When she was alone, her thoughts accompanied her, whether they were positive or negative. When she wasn't alone, they were still there.
In the tower, she'd realised all she had been doing was thinking. So she spoke — to no one in particular. Sometimes she'd read books to the butterflies that came to visit her. Other times, to the weeds that grew around her window.
