The Royal Academy

Chapter 1 - Mayra

"The nightmares have come back, Gretchen."

That's all I said for about an hour or so. Trapped in that dark place again, I felt the leftover pain wash over me in waves. I remember every detail about that night like it was yesterday. The night I lost everything.

I had just turned 7 years old that day. My mother and father still treated me as if I was made out of porcelain. I guess you could say I was their miracle child. They had just resolved that they would never be able to have children of their own when my mother found out she was pregnant. I was born 6 weeks premature, and they worried for days, weeks, months, thinking I wouldn't make it. I survived, just barely, and spent my formative years constantly under the watch of someone, whether it was my parents or my Nanny, Gretchen.

I had a typically happy childhood. The monarchy in Ireland had been reestablished 15 years before my birth, and the people where slowly coming around to the idea of having a Royal Family. My parents would take me and ride around the city in a carriage, greeting everyone along the way. I always enjoyed those times, taking in the beautiful countryside as we rode. It was no different that horrible day. The sun was shining brightly, a beautiful spring breeze blowing in the air, and we had the carriage readied to go for a ride.

We had just finished our round when the sky suddenly grew darker, and the wind started blowing fiercely, rain pelting us with incredible force. It was only minutes before the storm was fully raging, blinding our view and causing the horses drawing the carriage to lose control and begin sliding in the mud. We slipped and slid for mere moments before the carriage toppled over and threw us out onto the slick ground. The driver reached me any my mother quick enough to shove us away from the cliff edge we were steadily approaching, and turned to reach for my father. I remember seeing him claw through the mud, trying to grab hold and stop his momentum, but he just kept sliding farther out of reach. Finally, the driver thrust himself in my father's direction, struggling to grasp his hand and pull him back. By the time their hands touched, it was too late. They were falling over the edge together, screaming as they descended.

The police were called, and they sent divers into the still frigid waters to search for them. The driver was pronounced dead on site, but my father was still alive and we were quickly airlifted to a hospital in town. My father went into surgery as soon as we arrived, but he didn't make it through. At the time, I didn't fully understand what was happening, but I knew my father would not be returning home with us that night.

Every day after that for the next few years was completely bleak and void of the simple joys we used to have. My mother sunk quickly into depression, and never was the same vibrant woman everyone knew. I struggled to hold in my pain, not wishing to add to hers.

At some point, without me noticing, she started smiling again. Soon after she was laughing and moving about with a spring in her step. I couldn't tell what had changed, but I was glad she was happy again. The pain in my heart was still lingering there, but seeing her joyful expression made it a little easier for me to cope. One day after coming home from my regular therapy sessions, I happened to hear the sound of giggling coming from my mother's office. The door was cracked open an inch, so I peered in and saw my mother in the embrace of a tall man. They turned slightly, and I caught sight on the man's face.

"I'm so glad you've been here for me, Peter. I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you." my mother whispered, the sound muffled against his chest.

"I'm glad you finally broke down and let me be there. I hated watching you grieve and I wanted to do something to comfort you, but I just felt like I would be in the way."

I couldn't listen any longer and slowly backed away from the door, breaking into a full sprint down the hall and up the stairs to my room. I hated to admit it, but my mother was moving on while I couldn't. I resented their relationship because I thought Peter was trying to replace my father, and I thought my mother was forgetting him. Later that day she came to my room to check on me. When she found me lying face down on my bed, she came to sit on the edge and laid a hand on my shoulder.