Finding Heathcliff

One

Astrid didn't know how they managed to get inside and find her, but she didn't care. In a world where animals were rare, in her uncle's castle where they were forbidden, she was happy to receive her little winged visitors, a pair of white doves, daily.

No, not her uncle's castle, she corrected herself mentally. The castle had once belonged to her parents, and soon will be hers if she passes the trial; her uncle was only a regent. When she passed the trial, Astrid corrected herself again-- she would succeed, undoubtedly, just like all the queens before her had succeeded, in whatever the court sorceress made them go through to prove that they were worthy to rule the country.

Despite knowing this, the trial loomed on her mind, clouding all her other thoughts, always more often as she neared the age of ascension. She was afraid, scared that she would be the first princess to fail, leaving the Kingdom of Eurovea in the hands of her uncle and later an heir of his choice. Astrid didn't feel like a queen, and she definitely didn't look like one of those beautiful, regal, dark-haired, and olive-skinned women she had seen in history books. She was short and not precisely slim, with round, rosy, blush-prone cheeks and a mass of long, golden curls which, at the age of fifteen, made her still look like a child.

Feeling her good mood evaporate, Astrid forced herself to shake the unpleasant thoughts off. She still had an entire year to worry about the trial and her looks, after all. Smiling again, she let the heavy door close behind her with a thud as she walked deeper into the library, searching the pockets of her gown while she approached the bookcase where the doves perched, waiting for her, on the topmost shelf.

Just where do they come from, she mused, trying to solve the mystery as she let her eyes stroll from one tall, arched, shuttered window to another. It was the night of the month when the moon did not rise, and the windows of the castle remained shut the entire day. This was yet another mystery, but Astrid had stopped asking about this one a long time ago. She knew that no one was allowed to tell her what was happening beyond the shuttered windows until she became of age. She wondered if anyone, except for her uncle and his court sorceress, knew.

Princess Astrid had learned to accept it as something ordinary and didn't think of the dark windows twice as she cooed softly in an approximation of the sound the doves made, opened her hand holding a piece of bread already reduced to crumbs, and giggled as the white birds landed on her outstretched arm, disturbing the candlelight that gilded the spines of the thousands of books packed tightly into the shelves all around her with the flutter of their soft wings.

A rustle of fabric reaching her from an ill-lit corner of the room flooded with deep, long, moving shadows cast by the immense bookcases made her spin around. Her breath hitched when she caught at first the scent and then the sight of the culprit.

A man with the most unusual white-blond hair, there but not quite, dressed in a black, flowing cloak similar to those of her uncle's guard rushed past her as if he didn't see her, making that strange, otherworldly scent whiff through the air of the closed room, enveloping her like an embrace. To Astrid, his was the scent of incense, of how she imagined a burning incense would smell from what she had read about it in books. A perfume belonging to the long-gone past, when people used to build churches and pray to their gods and deities, a smell only existing among the pages of history books or fiction novels. Astrid had read too many books to be able to distinguish one from the other properly-- all the stories from the past sounded like fairytales to someone who had devoured an infinity of them, never experiencing anything of what they read about.

She turned around and looked at the door, closed and still as if he hadn't just walked through. Even her doves were undisturbed by his presence...

Was he real? Or did she just imagine him? she mused, yet again.

Arabella enquired if she was feeling unwell when Astrid asked her once who the mysterious young man was, Orion laughed and told her to read fewer novels and pay more attention to the school books. But her lady-in-waiting was always concerned only about Astrid's health and wellbeing, and Orion... was Orion. Her fiancé had never read anything beyond geography and history texts, and in Astrid's opinion, his imagination greatly suffered from it. However, his no-nonsense, knowledge-filled mind would make him the best king for a dreamer queen like herself.

Lost in thought, Astrid didn't notice that the doves finished the crumbs until they vanished into thin air like the man, leaving her alone. She shook her head; the castle was packed with mysteries, and she couldn't wait to become the queen only to gain the authority to unveil them all.

Settling down in her favourite armchair, the girl reached towards a pile of books scattered over a small round table, burying it. She grabbed the one on top, kicked her shoes off, and tucked her legs under her long skirt in a very un-ladylike manner, then laid the book on her lap, opening it at a random page.

She tried to follow the printed words describing World War IV, an event that had happened long before the series of devastating earthquakes, which were followed by floods and other disasters, but she couldn't concentrate. How was she supposed to imagine and comprehend a world she had never seen? She hadn't been allowed to go outside to meet the people living beyond the castle's walls often enough to know and understand her own world. How could she remember something that had happened centuries ago?!

Without her volition, her thoughts abandoned history and strolled to the present. The blond man... She kept meeting him often in the library... He must work somewhere in the castle and most likely didn't have permission to use the library. He wanted to keep his visits secret; his love of books was something she could understand easily.

If only she wasn't so shy, she would have spoken to him a long time ago; he intrigued her. He had the most unusual hair and the most beautiful eyes-- the colour of sea foam... Just what part of the kingdom did he come from, and why had she never seen anyone talking to him?

"It's no use!" she whispered.

Closing the history book and giving up on studying for the day, Astrid searched the pockets of her gown again, pulling out a much smaller book that she always carried around. Her favourite novel. She smiled as she let her fingers caress the cover of Wuthering Heights, a story written hundreds of years ago.

Astrid enjoyed ancient fiction because it spoke of wonderful things that did not exist. Like ghosts, television, dragons, electricity... And love.

The princess jumped from her seat, stuffing the book she was not supposed to be reading deep inside her pocket when she heard the door open suddenly, then exhaled with relief when she saw Arabella walking towards her.

Statuesque, self-composed and impeccably dressed according to the latest court fashion, her lady-in-waiting was the person Astrid esteemed the most in the world.

"Lady Astrid! The entire castle is looking for you, your uncle is frantic, you haven't forgotten, have you?"

Astrid looked at the woman who would make a much better queen than herself, feeling nonplussed for a long moment. And then it hit her. She let her eyes dart to one of the windows for confirmation before she spoke.

"Oh. It's The Black Night again. The ball."

"Indeed. They only happen once a month, what is so difficult to remember... Never mind. Come, please, let's get you dressed," Arabella muttered, her pleasant voice laced with infinite patience.

Nodding, Astrid followed her out of the library, making sure that her book lay safely inside the pocket of her gown.