The Peasant, The Prince, & The Dreamer

Chapter 1: Time to Make a Delivery

Author's Note: Hi there! The place(s) and people in this story are fictional. This is a faith-based story, with Christian themes and messages throughout. I hope that you enjoy it and I'm glad that you're here!

The small cottage was filled with the delicious scent of Oxtail soup that wafted up to Lydia's room. The warmth of her grandmother's singing and her grandfather's harmonious humming could be heard from the kitchen on the first floor.

Lydia thought to rush downstairs and sing along with them while petting their cat Meadow or rushing out with their dog Loyal, but she was halted by a memory of the poster that had been plastered on just about every tenth tree she had passed on her way home the other afternoon.

She sighed in contentment as she reminisced at the sight of it. The King was looking for a young woman for the Prince to marry and then soon take the throne. Lydia sank to her bed, the large skirt she wore fluffed up around her waist as she did, as many ideas bombarded her mind.

An image of herself, but with even longer wavy brown hair, passing her waist instead of stopping there, and a beautiful crown of jewels atop her head, played in her mind. Yet all of that didn't get to her as much as the thought of him.

Damien Abbott. The son of King Mark Abbott. He was only one inch taller than his father as she could see from the portraits, and his eyes were dark, like the midnight sky, unlike his father's cool blue eyes.

He was the man that many young women like Lydia could only wish for.

She stared off into the distance, being the wall just a couple of feet in front of her, and thought about standing in front of the very tall prince. She was sure that was at least 6'2, but she wondered if he loomed even taller than that. Just the thought of him made her stomach flutter, feeling nervous at the prospect.

She fell backward on her bed, giggling at the thought of being whisked around in a ballroom, in a huge dress, with her glistening crown, and the approval of everyone around her.

She wished to make her grandparents proud. They worked a hard life to provide for her after the passing of her parents when she was only two and Lydia couldn't imagine a better way to make them proud and to bring stability to her aging grandparents. They couldn't work forever.

Her grandfather always sought to take care of the two ladies, never wanting her grandmother to work a day in her life. Yet Lydia's grandmother refused to see him take on the task of providing for her and their only child alone.

Edgar Clarke worked grueling hours with little pay, he had never gone to school like many of the men in his area, so his job offers were slim and unappealing. So Margaret, his loving wife, began a sewing business. She made dresses for the poorest and the richest, and so with consistent orders, they were able to open a shop, even teaching Lydia how to sew as well.

Lydia imagined the dress her grandmother and her could fashion together. She imagined a long gown that would grab attention, with a strong hue of red.

She could see the hooped skirt that would go past her ankles with a long train falling behind her, with intricate embroidering and jewels woven into the waist. Lydia sighed at the thought of the beautiful dress that she had formed in her mind. She was lost in her world of "what-ifs." She rather liked it there.

But a knock on her door pulled her out of her thoughts, causing her to jump in fright.

Her grandfather chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled open the door. To him, the view of the messy-haired young woman, yet again getting lost in her thoughts was nothing new.

"You've been awake for the past hour, young lady. We've heard you pacing back and forth and giggling like you're mad," her Grandpa Ed laughed.

Lydia blushed. It was embarrassing being called out from her daydreams as frequently as she had been throughout her life, but she didn't rebuttal, instead nodding in agreement. "I have been awake for a while. I'm sorry I got lost in my-"