Her Noble Heart

Childhood Nobles

In the magnificent dusky abyss of black night, millions of luminous, incandescent orbs scorch in the distance of time and space with endurance. Nightfall's luminescence and tears descend to the enriched soils of the charmingly sculpted empire terrain, lavished in thick, mossy forests and sprouts of amethyst gems. 

Flurries of rain and glacial mist collapse against prosperous noble gardens, merely alit by the tender glow of exquisitely decorated lanterns. Herds of vegetation sprout from the earth's heart instantaneously, unleashing clouds of mauve dust quickly swept away by the storm's preserving breeze.

As air of frost and strength coils and weaves through the empire's streets pirouetting unwaveringly in darkness, the exquisite earthy scent ascends to the beautifully handcrafted wooden second-story window upon a countess' grand residence. Seeping through the open glass and flourishing within the warmth of nobility's cosy, intricate insides, the bewitching, earthy scent flows close to a young, cultivated noblewoman's nose.

"He's choosing... me?!"

The alluring, mellow lady brings her palm to her dark brown lipstick, stunned by the decision. Slithers of dark brown hair strands fall like loose ribbons as she sweeps her jewelled arm from the dark bookshelf, discerning her sense of reality. Rivers of amethyst silk flow from her willowy, gorgeous robe dress, trailing to the floor and cultivating tiles like a blooming mauve orchid as if exhibiting her potential.

"According to the contents of this letter, Lady Mercella."

A maiden slips a gold-enlaced letter into the captivating countess' palm, a red stamp bestowing the received letter as royally dispatched. The brunette flicks it open with her nails, carefully reading each word with a nervous look. Gazing for a moment ever so blankly, she elegantly closes the letter, drifting past the warmth of the fireplace towards the gaped window.

Sliding her delicate torso through the open window, she sways in the midst of rain and wind as her seaweed marbles envelop the fading vision of her common noble life. The night cries evermore, penetrating her delicate skin until she is drenched in the exhilarating feelings of power, sorrow, and choice.

"Please, prepare the parchment and ink for me," she speaks softly, with a voice not drowned by the frosty yet fierce rain. Dragging her soaked lilac dress back inside, the countess descends into her beautiful fauteuil seat as her dress' silk clings to her skin like a desperate memory. The maiden rummages through parchment bundles, laying one in front of the lady with an elegant bottle of ink.

The lady dips the quill in ink.

Her heart beats quickly.

"I, to his imperial majesty's request, will..."

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. . . B E F O R E . . .

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"Do you favour freshly baked cookies, Countess Mercella and Countess Fleura?"

An elderly waiter tucks an intricately decorated napkin into his vest, showcasing a tray of crisp baked goods with an elegant smile upon guests at the evening noble party. The countesses exchange looks of curiosity with one another, before the brunette parts her classic dark brown lipstick.

"No, thank you sir." Countess Mercella declines, pulling her dark brown hair from her refined jewelled violet dress. She turns to Countess Fleura for her response.

"Oh my, can I?" the bright ginger beauty cheerfully asks, "They look rather delicious!"

With her flawlessly pale palms, she gathers two from the tray, swaying in her elegant pink grown before the waiter walks off to entertain more guests. As he leaves, she waves with a kind smile - her iconic, sweet smile. Before you could say hunger, she shoves a cookie between her coral lips, gulping it as she holds the second cookie in front of the brunette.