sleeping beauty

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I took me a while to work up the courage to express my feelings to her. She suggested we go into the sitting room in hopes that I would be more comfortable. There, in front of the crackling fire, I told her everything; beginning to end. Starting with the death of my mother, the first stone of many that were thrown my way.

She listens as I explain how I feel invisible in my own home—alone, even though I'm surrounded by people. When we sneak off to the garden I always had to leave early because of the nightly rounds. It didn't take me long to notice that they didn't even bother to check if I was breathing anymore. Everything got worse once David had found his 'lost princess'.

So I started staying out later, leaving a pillow in my stead. Which led us to me curled up on a couch in her sitting room trying not to cry. My father's words ringing in my ears. After I had spilled everything to her, I felt drained—nothing left to give. So she said I should get some sleep and led me to a guest room.

the next morning

I begin to wake from the most peaceful sleep I've had in a long time. My recent nightmares ceased, giving way to beautiful dreams. I feel delicate touches on my cheek and I open my eyes to see Madonna standing over me. We lock eyes and an odd tension forms between us; it's almost tangible, as if I could reach out and hold it in my hands.

I don't look away and neither does she, keeping her hand on my cheek as her thumb mindlessly moves back and forth. I've never felt anything like this before; there is no feeling akin to the one I get looking into her eyes. The sound of something falling downstairs breaks us both from the invisible force between us and she pulls away.

She quickly stands, clearing her throat and taking a deep breath. "Join us downstairs when you're ready" she mumbles politely, leaving as soon as the last syllable has left her lips. I continue to lay there for a moment, confused as to what just happened. If I'm not mistaken, there was something lingering in the minimal air that separated us.

I don't have time to dwell on it as she did ask that I come down for breakfast and I can't deny her any request. So I quickly fix myself up and meet them downstairs, uttering a simple greeting as I take the empty place at the table. No one speaks which doesn't bother me as I'm used to the silence.

In fact, it gives me time to think about things—on second thought, I do mind that. I try my best to focus on anything else, like the soft creaking sounds of the house. I enjoy those little noises, it makes the house feel alive. The palace is almost always silent, even with dozens of servants scurrying about. It's as though showing any sign of life is a sin.

The girls are the first to go, leaving the room with snickers on their breaths. I know I shouldn't assume but I'm good at reading situations and I'm almost certain they're laughing at me. I have to say I don't blame them, my appearance isn't all that great. Yet at the same time, I find it rude that they would do such a thing; they could've at least waited until I couldn't hear them.

I suppose I know nothing of bearing or raising children, though. Therefore, I'm really in no place to judge how they act. It also occurs to me that they may not get much outside interaction. Madonna doesn't frequent town and with the way she dresses like every day is a royal ball, it doesn't surprise me that my state would appear humorous to them.

"So, about your being here..." I lift my head to see the redhead eyeing me nervously and I know her next words won't be good. "I would love to have you stay but—given my daughters are living with me as well..." she doesn't say more and there's no need for her to. Despite my understanding of her reasoning, it didn't lessen my disappointment.

A part of me wanted to scream to the heavens—loudly scream. Question whoever as to why they have brought such vast misfortune into my life. "I understand" I reply, I won't lie and say I'm 'ok' with it but her decision is reasonable. She had to think of her children first and I can never be upset with her for that.

"I'm sorry, I-" "you don't need to apologize. You're being a mother... that is more important than anything. I'll be fine" I assure her but I can tell she's not convinced. "But where will you go?" I think about her question for a moment, asking myself the very same thing. Whilst I think, I insist on helping her clear the table.

As we work together to wash the dishes, it dawns on me. "What if..." I shake my head as I run over everything again, hearing how foolish it sounds. It's a complicated plan, one that will likely fail, but it's all I have. "Go on" she urges and as I dry the last dish, putting it away, I lean on the counter and face her.

"I could stay out during the day like usual and sneak back in at night" I say, "didn't you tell me your fat—Ferdinand caught you sneaking out? What makes you think he won't be alerted by you sneaking in?" she counters and that is a valid point. "Well there's this old service staircase..." I recall, thinking aloud as I envision it.

"There's entry from the outside—at the back of the palace. It goes all the way up to my room, ending in a sort of trap door funnily enough. He doesn't know, I found it while exploring one day as a child" I tell her, "are you sure it's safe? If it hasn't been used in as long as you say" she prompts and I smile at the little crease that appears on her forehead as her eyebrows raise.

"I'm sure but thank you for the concern. Besides, it's not like I have much of a choice" I shrug and she sighs deeply. "Promise you'll be careful? And that you'll come see me so I know you're alright?" she asks and I find myself almost tearing up at the sight of her eyes. It's reminiscent of my mother's gaze, or what I can recall of it.

That pure caring for another being, something that has been rare for me since she passed. Though it also just gives me this warm, fuzzy feeling in my belly. Madonna has given me more than I could ever ask for over the time we've spent together. She's appreciated me for who I am and befriended me despite my baggage and flaws. The least I could do is show her that I care for her—that I'll do anything for her.

"I promise"

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