Powerless (Anemarin)

Story

     Third Person POV following Anemone:

     Morning.

     Soft light. Splotches of color. Blue skies. Tired but content-looking companions. Servants in shiny armor.

     Plates clattering. Footsteps. Voices, greetings, discussions. Wind outside the window hitting the trees, causing the leaves to make a rustling sound.

     Waffles and whatever other delicious scents from the castle bakery. Fresh air. Furniture polish and cleaner smell - the servants had been at work.

     Breakfast - sweet, savory. Orange juice, usually. Whatever treats and snacks Anemone had stashed nearby or chose to take with her when she passed the kitchen.

     Warmth from the sun, a chill from the shade.  Plates in her hands. Fabric which she held as she got dressed.

     She loved the morning. It made her feel so refreshed. She'd throw the covers aside, dress to impress, and gracefully walk down the three million stairs in high-heels. She'd eat breakfast while listening to servants talk about all the stressful problems in her kingdom, keeping a serene smile on her face as if it was fine. She'd push past servants, maintaining perfect posture, until she got to the throne room. There, her mother would be missing, as usual. She'd bow in front of the empty throne for minutes at a time, occasionally nearly two hours. When her mother walked in, she'd be given permission to stand straight again. Then she and her mother would discuss the many responsibilities Anemone would have to fulfill, and then she'd be cast aside like a servant with a distracted "I love you" thrown at her. Or rather, in her general direction. Sometimes Anemone didn't feel like she meant it, or like it wasn't really directed properly at her. Sometimes she felt like it wasn't strong enough to make it to her heart. Like it came out of Queen Coral's mouth, flew up in the air, and then flopped pathetically to the floor. Made no move to float up to Anemone, where it was supposed to go. Nope. Just sat there. Dying on the floor. Pathetically.

     Afterwards, Anemone would go find a little nook or hiding place where she could finally relax her posture, her face, and her mind. She could properly breath again, and cry if need be. Alone.

     All that aside, though, she did actually love mornings.

     Because it was the only time she could see Queen Coral, usually. And eat sweet things as a meal. And because of the freshness in the air. And because she usually had so much time to herself in the mornings. Most days, afternoons were jam-packed, and evenings were short and brutally busy.

     But her life was great, she supposed. She was a princess. She wasn't so blind as to how much better her life was compared to most people's.

     She had food. Servants. Riches. Power.

     She felt bad whenever she felt ungrateful. So she tried not to. She appreciated her life.

     She thanked her servants for everything they did.

     She donated some money to charity.

    She used her power to help make her kingdom safer - arresting criminals, keeping citizens safe with new laws.

     Clearly, she was a good ruler. Someone who knew how to handle their power. She rarely abused her powers - almost never. She even snuck out of the palace to check on her citizens, and found Tamarin. Tamarin, who should have been grateful for the attention from someone so powerful and nice. A peasant - Tamarin should have been begging for Anemone's attention, actually. Why didn't the stupid villager understand? Her abuse of power - the ONE time she lied to get Tamarin arrested - that was something special. She had acted out for her. She had broken the rules for her. Couldn't she see the gesture?