Winter Wildflowers

Chapter 19

Day 169

Again, like the night before Knightley had left, Ofelia woke from a nightmare. Since her last, she had not endured a slight dream, had not been restless, nor had she had a single disturbance in her slumber. But, as the moon light shone through the outskirts of her thick curtain, she swallowed to moisten her dry mouth and hid her hands from the cold air. She pulled her covers over herself more and cleared her throat. Her dream had consisted of snow, a baby's cry, and the graphic eyes of a dying man. It was surreal, as dreams are, but had violently penetrated Ofelia's heart and shook her awake. A chill rolled down her back and Ofelia turned to readjust her pillow. She was worried to return to sleep instantly. It felt like the nightmare was still lingering in her mind, ready to snatch at her as soon as she laid to rest again. She curled into herself and laid her cheek to her knees, tucking her arms around her calves.

Ofelia woke again in the light of the morning to her maidens, breakfast, and a gown in their hands.

As she looked in the mirror that morning, she noticed how her bruises and cuts had faded, how her natural rosy glow had returned to her cheeks, to her lips, and how her eye had nearly healed. Despite the comely sight, she frowned. She looked like how she had when she'd left home. Of course, the muscles in her arms and her shoulders had grown, and her collarbones were now well pronounced. She eyes also ran over the shorter length of her hair in which she was still bitter about. It struck her though that with each passing day, she began to resemble her old self, and it was irritating. To think that the court would spend their time trying to return her to what she would have looked like before she had been taken, whilst building an entirely different character for their benefit, simply wasn't fair. They were cherry picking what they wanted of Ofelia and what they didn't.
A maiden cleared her throat before humming, "Majesty is arriving early."
The women ah'd, one clicked her tongue. A timely silence.
"Perhaps it did not go well.", one responded.
Ofelia struggled to hide her curiosity.
The other women kept quiet, and the young girl came close to adorn Ofelia in jewellery, starting with the rings on her fingers. Ofelia stared at her, her eyes falling from her young face to her fast-working hands.
Paulina had explained to Ofelia a few days into her stay that it was a widely respected social code that no peasant looked a royal in the eye, no servant of hers or another. Ofelia, for the most part, respected this arrangement. If this was a way the people felt showed due respect, she was alright with it. The court lacked humility; this was the closest thing Ofelia could appreciate to it. And if a person wanted to signify their rebellion, she hoped that they would do so in a braver matter. But, when Ofelia caught the young girl's shy eyes that shot down immediately after, she couldn't hide her smile. Big curious brown eyes. Long blonde lashes over freckled skin. Subtly, as not to incite the attention of her other maidens, she placed her hand over the girls, patting it once before letting her return to her tasks.
It was odd being queen, Ofelia then decided. For all the power she was granted, there were an equal number of restrictions. Restrictions on her actions, to her personal life, to what people were and weren't allowed to know. Even to what kindnesses she could share with people and what she had to hide. Never would she have imagined she'd have to hide a smile to a young girl. It surprised Ofelia to feel her heart deflate.

Ofelia's day went as followed. A language lesson with Paulina, then breakfast, then a dance lesson, then lunch, then Ofelia finally returned to the training room. Like usual, she ignored the prying eyes, picked up her wooden sword and began to swing it against the leather sack. In the corner of her eye, she noticed the elderly man sitting across the room, watching her with crossed arms. She spared him a glance, frowned before striking the bag again. He must have been a trainer, perhaps even an elderly Knight that simply enjoyed the reminiscent sight of younger soldiers. Ofelia hadn't been introduced to many of the royal family, and most certainly not their associates; Again, Ofelia was a well-educated princess that had been saved from the horrors of war and married into a better life. In no way could Ofelia appear as what she was, a village girl who had been taken as a prize by a bloodthirsty king. It was as she thought of him and of his original intentions that she grew confused.
Knightley had kidnapped her in hopes of using her as a vessel, but instead had transformed her into a weapon, making efforts to avoid their consummation. She frowned and mindlessly lowered her weapon. It baffled her. He baffled her. Ofelia had trumped him with a choice the night before entering the city of Veralta, she had told him that she could not be his wife and a warrior, not at heart. He had no need to listen to her and he had made it clear that he had no issues with using force, but it seemed that he had listened. Yes, she was married to him, but she was not bearing his child, nor was she fulfilling any other marital duties. She rarely saw him; in fact, she could count the number of times that she had spoken to him that month on one hand. And right as he had left, he had told her to practice with her sword. With those actions, it seemed clear that he had chosen for her to be a warrior.