"Wake up, Mummy, wake UP!!!" This is the first thing that I hear in the morning. Confused, I look around the room "Where AM I?" I ask the man that sits next to me, when he told me that I was at home, in bed, just as I had been last night, I became even MORE confused.
I am a fourteen year old girl named Izaella. I was born on August 15th, 1847. I am a princess who lives in a castle, and I am DEFINITELY not a 'Mummy'. If I was, My child and my partner would be stoned , and I would be drowned.
"Excuse me kind people, but I must ask you again: Where am I? I belong In France, in my palace, and this," I said, picking at the bedspread, "is NOT a material that I have EVER beheld in my lifetime! I'm a fourteen year old girl, who deserves-as is her royal right, mind you- to know EXACTLY what the DEVIL is going on here!" I said, blowing off my steam at the lovely courter who stood beside me. I know that it was awful of me to do such a thing, but I simply couldn't BEAR to be lied to.
"M'lady, I wish to explain to you what is going on here. Is that alright with you?" Asked the young-and ravishingly beautiful man. "I suppose that would be mighty proper of you now wouldn't it?" I asked of him coyly. I was unable to stop myself from smiling a tad when he spoke to me, as formally as a courter should.
"Thank you." He spoke gently, as if not to scare me, "I will start with who we are, and our ages. My name is Jeoffrey, and this is Emiliana. I am fourteen, and she is four." Jeoffrey said, nudging Emiliana.
"We are her because you were betrothed to me, and I am soon-to-be king of Isreal. This lovely you girl here is my daughter. Her real mother died giving birth, and, as a challenge to prove my worth to my king, I was told to take the child and raise her.
" So... I must marry a boy who, although is ravishing, I have not met before now?"
And even as I said it, one phrase was running through my head, over and over again: OH. DEAR. LORD.
