What She Did

Chapter Seven [2/2] After Timeskip

There was once a little, wooden cottage at the far ends of the Chryso kingdom. In that wooden cottage there lived a single woman, who hardly ever came out during the day. At night, you could see her shadow against the parchment windows when she switched on the light. 

She only opened the door to hand people the letters they wanted her to write. She was the only literate person in the outskirts of the kingdom, earning her living by writing letters and thus receiving money and basic necessities by doing so. The little children, in all their curiosity always gathered at her door, sometimes poking a hole to peek at what she was doing. 

She never scolded them, sometimes giving them biscuits and let them watch her write. However she never showed her face. It was always behind a mask.

"She's always reading or writing!" The children would inform their parents. 

Life had not been very easy for her. She had been fed from a silver spoon since she was born; had everything done for her. Now she was just a commoner.

She often found herself crying in the middle of the night, wallowing in her own self-pity and hatred. The moonlight would flood through her open window and her lanky frame would be bent over, casting an opaque shadow over her face.

Her tears would pool on the wooden flooring, before seeping into it. 

She was always waiting.

For that day when she could finally get back her kingdom, and crush the kingdom and the person who caused the fall of it. The Chryso. Not to mention, to thank the someone that saved her a couple of years ago.

She had been poisoned two years ago, in the forest which was a shared territory of the Chryso, Vince and Xeno. By her own twin sister.

Someone had brought her to this cottage and gave her an antidote. She had only got a glimpse of the scar on the left side of her saviour's neck. 

The next day she woke up her saviour was gone, leaving her when she was too weak to move. Judging from the apparel her savior wore, she deemed that it was a fairly rich lady. (She had left a large pouch of Chryso currency on a table)

One day, she didn't open her door to the children. The cottage was unusually silent, free from recitals of poetry and the sound of flipping and closing of books. 

Pretty much all the families with young maidens were not opening their doors as well.

She was there, at the mirror.

Dampening her hair, she combed it straight. Stray or loose hairs were not accepted. She wanted to be perfect; she had to be perfect.

She tore large strips of parchment, before wrapping her hair around them. 

She painted her face pale and seemingly translucent, before scantily coating her upper eye lids with periwinkle blue that gave off a pearl like gleam. She didn't need too much, for after all it was going to be covered by the mask.

Staining her lips thistle, she placed an azure mist tinted chicory on her mask. Then she sat near the window for awhile, letting her hair dry by the wind. 

She opened her cupboard, smiling slightly at the striking electric blue gown with black lacing and the pair of heels. She had scrimped and saved up for these. 

Meticulously, she put on her gown and slipped her feet into the heels. Looking at the mirror again, she removed the paper strips, letting voluminous wavy hair fall on her shoulders and to her waist. She smirked a little. 

Success was imminent. Her revenge was already planned, yes, right down to the details. She knew very well about the Chryso, now that she wanted it so badly.

She heard the sound of hooves and a carriage drawing near. She smiled knowingly, walking over to stand near the door.

"Is there a maiden of the name Sheila here?" someone called.

Anticipation was boiling in her heart. From the moment she stepped out of the cottage, the moment she talked to anyone, she had to be perfect.

"Yes." she said, her voice mellow and silvery soft.