The Heavenly Appeal {A Vampire Diaries Fan Fiction}

{5} Walking On Daydreams

Any historical mistakes about the local Bulgarian history, my bad! I mean no offense, really! -Her Lady

Chapter Five

Walking On Daydreams

=-Kavarna, Bulgaria-=

1489

"Tighter," my mother ordered.

My nails dug deeper into the bedpost, fighting the urge to snap at her. The maidservant glanced at me warily as if sensing my thoughts, and successfully squeezed the rest of the air out of my lungs. A pained wheeze escaped my lips. My face twisted into a grimace as she laced the strings into a knot, stepping away from me when my mother inspected the gown with a resolute scowl. The fabric was the color of jaded green that made me appear weak and delicate. I hated it, but Mother was insistent. It complimented my long light brown hair and bluish, indigo and hazel green eyes. They were claimed to be my best feature aside from my curves and perfectly arched pink lips.

"Tsveta, you may leave."

A flash of relief crossed her face as she inclined her head meekly and hurried out of my bedroom. "Thank you, my lady."

"Remove that look on your face," my mother told me sternly once the maidservant was gone, stroking the corners of my mouth as if she was wiping the frown away. "I will not have you waste such a face on an expression like that."

"Yes Mama . . ."

"And that tone," she continued to reprehend. "You were born and raised as a lady so you will act as such. It is not dignified to mumble your words. Have I not told you this several times before?"

Carefully, I replied, "I apologize. It must be the lack of air. I feel faint."

"Nonsense, it is not the dress at fault. When has the last time you have eaten?" She pursed her lips, completely ignoring my words. "You may eat after the gathering. I will not have you faint of starvation during your introduction as a young lady of seventeen."

"I have attended these galas for a year. I shall do my best not humiliate you."

"That I already know, Varvara, but this is of utmost importance. You must be perfect when you are at the perfect age to attract suitors. Second best is not enough."

Cringing at the enthusiasm in her voice, I reminded her gently, "Please do not forget of the deal I made with Papa."

"Oh, yes." My mother was not pleased. If it was not heard in her voice, it was the sight of her peeved expression. "I cannot forget your father's horrid decision. I still wonder as to why he agreed to such a thing at each sunrise and sunset."

". . . Apprehend my words. I am not ready."

"You requested a mere two years of freedom. What difference does it make if you marry at the age of nineteen when you can marry now?"

I sensed another argument growing and glanced away, upset that she did not understand. "I do not wish to be married."

"What else is there that you plan to do with your life?" My mother asked, demanding an answer.

"My passion, Mama!"

She patronizingly scoffed at the hopeful look on my face. "You are a strange one indeed. Painting will lead you nowhere."

"It is what I wish to do," I reasoned.

"Let go of your useless fantasies! Surely you do not think you will survive on paper and pencil alone. Be practical!"