Cicatrice

Chapter IV

PRINCESS ESTELLE BELSHAW

I've sunk to my knees on a garden ledge, drowning in what feels like a river of tears. I sob uncontrollably as my entire world comes crashing down. I thought the only way I could get out of this mess was to run away. I couldn't fathom that father could set up my whole life for me, and feel no mercy, no sympathy. I looked at him and all I saw was darkness.

It's a shame I was surrounded by beauty. Neatly manicured hedges, flowers, as well as stone pathways could make you forget that this place was nothing but a cage -- a jail cell, even.

No sense of freedom.

Suddenly, I hear a twig break underneath somebodies shoe. Frightened, I glance up, gasping as I notice the man from the inside had followed me. With my heart thumping in my chest, I quickly wipe away the tears, although, it was quite obvious I had been crying. I'm sure anyone could have heard me from a mile away.

The man looked concerned. Curious.

He puts his hands in front of himself. "M-my apologies," his voice shakes. "I didn't intend to scare you," he adds in his thick, deep English accent. His sapphire-like eyes are enlarged in terror as if he didn't expect to be caught.

"What are you doing here?" I enquire, sniffling and furrowing my eyebrows angrily. I just wished for peace for one moment. And I couldn't even get that. I could tell that he knew I was cross. But he inched closer toward me anyways, both of his hands still in front of him.

"I've never seen a lady dash in such panic," he admits, his eyes looking everywhere besides my face.

Panic?

His remark catches me off guard.

It infuriates me.

"I'm not panicked!" I sneer, trying to hold back my sobs that were threatening to escape from the back of my throat. I scoff, realising who I am. "How dare you make such a remark! I've never met you. Get out of my sight, peasant," I shout angrily and watching him flinch. I caught a glimpse of his face as he was walking away. I buried my head back in my hands, wailing even more pathetically.

It wasn't until I looked back up to see him sitting on the ledge where I had been resting my arms. I don't push him away this time. Somehow, I felt safe when I looked into his diamond-like eyes, as if I were staring at a prince charming. So I cry, and cry, and cry, feeling utterly defenceless.

"I long for my childhood. I miss my father treating me like a princess and not just a means of amusement for the public," I snivelled, my head pounding from crying profusely. Sobbing in front of a man I had just insulted five minutes beforehand made me feel pathetic. It wasn't everyday you saw a tipsy, crying princess.

How is it that I stooped that low?

"I wish I had known my mother because perhaps if she were still alive, my father wouldn't be such a godforsaken coward as to abdicate the throne!" I chuckle humourlessly, my vision impaired as I look up to this random mans face, who stared down at me. "Good god, I'm miserable!" I laugh and cry simultaneously. "I sincerely apologise for the sob story," I add, sighing.

He remains quiet, the only noise is the ambience of the wind rustling through the nearby trees. The man purses his lips, his hand graces against the scar on my face. "No such beauty should have to endure such suffering," he whispers, a tear trickling from his blushed cheek.

Great heavens, he was beautiful.

He gasps quietly, pulling away from my face, and his eyes gaze behind me. The wind sways through his gorgeous blonde locks.

There's sudden light coming from the distance, and faint rustles through the hedges. "Mademoiselle, your highness, is that you? Reveal thyself!" A guard with a thick, black moustache booms, revealing himself by barging through the bush, his sword clasped behind his back. He shines the flashlight right in my face, blinding my vision.

"Your royal highness, what is the meaning of this? Why are you out here in the cold?" he questions in a concerned tone.

I turn to face the nameless man, but he was nowhere to be seen. He vanished, as if he were merely a fragment of my imagination.

"You are prohibited to be out by yourself after dark. You know the rules, don't you, your highness?" he interrogates, helping me up from the ground. "Yes sir, I just desired to be by myself for a while, my apologies," I sniffle, trying my hardest to not seem upset to avoid further questions.

When the guard closes the door after leading me back to my room, I feel like a prisoner who has just been granted a cell.

The thought makes me miserable.