I've always been protected, ever since I could remember. I'm the princess of the king, obviously.
But, I've never really been alone. Even in my bedroom, every teengirls dream room, I'm never alone. The silky bedsheets, with the tall legs on either side.
The grand window showing east, so I see sunrises, and one on the west showing the sunsets. The bookshelves covered, top to bottom in the most enchanting books.
None of those mattered since the meere idea, of "being alone" was never fit for someone like me.
Of course this sounds privileged, it's because I am, but I feel as if I do have some little right to complain.
Yet again, the castle I stay in to call home, my everyday life. Some call a luxury, others call it a myth. But I do my everyday duties in these grand walls.
The walls themselves covered in lavious golds, silver's and expensive jewels I still don't know the name of. Designs only the rich could really understand, and the paintings made by those "blessed from the gods" with talent.
But the halls, always seemed empty, no matter how many people where there, the halls were always empty.
The floors, though polished day and night to be shiner then the gold in the walls. But it was always silent. No squeeks one might hear at a ball, or the dancing of beauty, twirling around.
I'm laying down in my room, looking up at the ceiling counting the amount of flowers that are meticulously painted one by one.
None, looking exactly the same which my mother god mad at the painter who did it, but I was forever grateful that each had its own personality.
One, two, three, four, five...
Counting, and eventually forgetting my place with my finger, stopping at 78. My finger, as if it has a mind of it's own leans down, my hand following it making it's way to the silky sheets.
I was just let out of school, or rather, a big library, with two people in it. Me and my teacher, whom happens to be my aunt.
She was a lovely woman, outgoing and always breaking the rules. Yet, because she is the sister to the king. Never against the law actions, just against society norms.
She wore shorts, and had short hair. She usually was doing something rather "masculine", however no one batted and eye.
I've wanted to be like her since I was a little girl, never once did I never disagree with her choices of living.
But with all of her "outlandish" behavior, she was an impeccable teacher!
She taught me to read, and write. The poems she read to me when i was younger, are now similar to what I write today. At my 17 years of being alive, however my parents weren't very interested in my poems.
They were more interested in the idea of finding a husband, and my social actives, but always looked over.
I never once disobeyed my parents, as if I did I would be locked up in my bedroom already more then I am now.
I'm able to walk around, to the gardens, the kitchen, the library, the dining hall, the kitchen and the ball room.
I was never permitted to enter, the servers quarters, the training room, or anywhere off castle grounds. Without immediate permission from the queen or king themselves.
And, even in the castle grounds, I was to always have my bodyguard. He is not that bad of a man. Granted, I may not know what he was like when out of the job, which is for a mere 4 hours a day. However I feel like he isn't much different.
He's a tall man, rather built like a Greek god, something that the painters who were blessed from the gods would love to use as a model.
His hair was a short black ponytail at all times, since in his husky voice "makes my job easier ma'am."
May I also add, we're are near in age. I grew up with him, and seeing him turn out as the man he is today doesn't surprise me.
To go on, his eyes were dark and if stared into for too long, could result into becoming lost.
He had the knights crests, carved into his chest, over his heart. To show loayalty, and strength.
I like to believe, even just a bit, he was dared. Dared by the one i call my brother, Dervon.
Dervon, was one my only sibling, and my twin at that. He was always the stereotypical, golden man who always pleased father.
He was good in school, sworing his academics, his strength goes unmatched, and his social abilities are always at a peak.
Him and my body guard, are very close. They always have been, which makes sense why, my bodyguard, which name is Jalon, was his second hand man, which is why he is my bodyguard.
Whilst still deep in my thoughts, laying in my bed full of pillows to many for one, comes a knock on my tall door.
