The Unwanted Princess

The Devil Can Be Beautiful

I suppose the next sequence of events were what would either make or break Simon and me. We were on the precipice, teetering between a fragile truce and complete collapse. The uncertainty hung in the air, thick and suffocating, as if we were characters in a tragic play, awaiting our final act. In those moments, the world seemed to hold its breath, watching to see if we would emerge from the chaos stronger, or if we would crumble under the weight

Something everyone around us failed to realize too was that we were just kids. Twenty-three year old kids, but still kids. Neither of us had the capacity to behave like the adults around us who were decades older. We were children trying to navigate a world built for adults, a world that demanded more than we were prepared to give. The wisdom of those decades older than us was absent, their guidance lost in the din of their own self-preservation. They were too busy saving their own skins to spare a thought for ours.

We had to learn the hard way. Every misstep was a lesson, every failure a harsh reminder of our inadequacies. Our youth was both our greatest strength and our deepest vulnerability. It gave us the tenacity to keep fighting, the hope that we could somehow turn the tide. But it also left us ill-equipped to deal with the cunning and treachery that surrounded us. We were naive in our belief that love and loyalty could overcome all, blind to the harsh realities of court politics and power plays.

It didn't take much longer for every little white lie to start to surface. Not that it wasn't evident by my fathers features, but my own heritage was revealed. I think it was more the fact that it was kept under wraps that enraged people rather than my actual ancestry. Very few articles said anything racial at all, which was a nice change of things from what I usually see about my parents own interracial relationship.

I was really expecting to hear more about it, considering I was to wed into one of the most prominent royal families, but I guess the reveal of their own young King was far more interesting to the public and the slurry of young girls who were just itching to get a glimpse under that piece of fabric.

Within the mix of all this too, my parents sent me a rather inconspicuous and vague letter about traveling out to Eldoria for the weekend for my last dinner as an Amani; a tradition for all of the women in the family. Their timing was strange to say the least. The wedding date hadn't even been set yet and here they are all ready to denounce me as one of their own.

That was a bit dramatic, but in a sense that is what they are doing. The irony of it all stung. Were they so eager to distance themselves from the impending scandal, or was this their way of trying to maintain some semblance of control?

I couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness. I wanted to believe it was just their way of coping, but the timing and tone of their letter suggested otherwise. It felt as if they were already washing their hands of me, leaving me to face the uncertain future alone.

It read:

To Our Beloved Daughter Elara,

We trust this missive reaches you in good health and high spirits, dearest. Your father and I beseech your presence at home for the Farewell Feast. We would be most grateful if you could respond at your earliest convenience, as we wish to hold these festivities upon the forthcoming weekend.

With Affection,

Momma

I don't even call her that anymore, yet she signs every letter in that old, tender way. It makes me wonder if she misses me and my brother from those simpler times of our youth. What mother doesn't reminisce on the early, cherished days of her children's lives? It's as though in the midst of this transition, she's reaching back for the comfort of the past, even as she prepares to let me go.