At first, Vincent watched as the servant looked around the ballroom in amazement. He listened to her murmurs about how beautiful it looked, and though he had been in it nearly once a day for the past few years, he couldn't agree more. "My mother painting that before she passed away," the prince added, noticing the servant look toward the wall full of colours and people. Some were dancing while others gazed up at the stars above their heads. Vincent always was amazed by the painting and always saw himself as the one lying in the grass, peering up to the sky above him. He didn't think much of a girl lying beside him, but sometimes he'd wonder who it would be. Would his bride be someone the king picked, or would Vincent have the ability to choose his own? He quickly shook the thoughts away when the servant took steps closer toward it.
"That must be her there, yes?" The servant smiled, tracing a light finger on one of the woman dancing. "She looks just how I remember," she added, and though the words were full of love and care, the servant could care less about the woman.
"Hm," Vincent hummed, joining the servant. "I never noticed it was her," he whispered, staring at the woman in the painting. "That must be my father dancing with her." He faked a smile, trying to seem kind and warm hearted, but a fire was lit inside of him and words boiled beneath his skin, though he didn't dare say a single one of them out loud. Vincent looked from person to person and pointed to a little boy he always admired on the painting. "He's my favourite. He is so lost in the stars that he's in his own world while others are talking or dancing."
"Maybe it's you," the servant said quietly, looking at the boy he pointed to. "I remember when you were that age."
Vincent grinned and looked to the servant quickly before looking back to the boy. "Maybe," he gave a light shrug. He paused and stared at the boy for a moment longer in silence before walking away. "Alright. Let my guard go get the king and we can start our tour." A warm smile curled on his lips before he looked toward his guard and gave a nod. The guard returned it and went down a hall with one of his hands on his sword.
But then the servant was left all alone with the prince. The first thought that chilled through her mind was that she could take him instead of the king. She mentally shook the thought away when she remembered why Corla demanded to get the king. It wasn't just to lure the prince into the castle, but to have the king in her grasp. The woman knew Corla found out that the king and the queen took her parents when she was younger. They killed them a year after holding them hostage. The servant knew all about the news and had to keep it from Corla until she was old enough to know. Little did the woman know that Corla would get as hateful as she was.
"Are you planning on going to the ball?" The prince asked, knocking all of her thoughts sideways. The servant held back from jumping and gave a light nod.
"I was hoping to, anyways. The past few years have been hectic. You know children are," the woman gave a warm laugh that made even her skin tingle. Her eyes lit up gently as she made eye contact with the prince. "My niece may even come visit this year. She's around sixteen now, I suppose. She's very excitable." She grinned at the prince.
"What is she like?" The prince smiled, putting his hands firmly into his suit pockets. A warmth was growing inside of him, and it seemed to keep getting warmer the more the woman talked. There was a kindness about her that made him feel calm.
"She very elaborate, I must say. She always plans thououghly even though she doesn't know what could happen." The woman took a breath and smiled gently before continuing. "And though she can be pushy and annoying sometimes, she's one of the most amazing girls I know."
The prince nodded as his lips stayed curled into a smile. "You must love your family," he said softly, giving a little glance to the painting he studied earlier with the woman. "I would too if I were apart of it." He gave a light chuckle before the woman chimed in with a laugh of her own.
"Well, let's just say she's a bit of a daredevil. The grandkids are better with people and stuff like that." The woman held her hands in front of her.
"There's nothing wrong with a little edge to a person," he spoke quietly in response, but in a kind way before he saw the king turn the corner.
"Let's start on the tour," the king demanded, making the woman try her best to hold back a glare. "We don't have all day." And then the tour started, leaving the painting and the ballroom behind.
The woman walked side by side with the prince as they both followed the king. The servant tried to plot how to get him out of the castle in the easiest way possible, but seeing him act the way he was was making her grow impatient.
"This is the hall of fame," the king said coldly. "We have all of the highest ranked guards on our walls, as well as the queen, my son, and I." The king faked an obviously forced smile. "Sometimes villagers make their way to the wall."
The servant listened, just like she usually had to. But the king was much different than Corla ever was. For the king was the evil that pushed Corla into being what she had become.
A beast.
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The Dying Rose
Fantasy**SLOW UPDATES** The Beast had always been just a made up story that villagers would share about for fun around fires. They didn't know what it even looked like, or who it really was. Corla had been taken away from her home when she was six years o...
