"So are you going to..... marry me?" Her voice was high pitched with barely restrained hope. Tilting her chin up, she gazed at him adoringly, inhaling ragged breathes. The King stared at her, she looked so desperate and haggard , merely a shell of her former self. How was he going to tell her that he would never leave his wife for her? She had known she was a kept woman,thus expendable , she was the one who had misread the signs. "I can't , I don't love you enough." He let out an exasperated sigh. She was shell-shocked, her angelic features contorted in anger. "I am with child! You feckless bastard!" She raged.
He backed away. His expression was emotionless. "Liar" he thought.
9months later.
The queen was weak, the pains of birth upon her. She had a sheen if perspiration on her face as she toiled on. Her fingers dug into the polished wood as her terrible screams filled the dim room. Princess Lydia was born.
She was the miniature version of her mother. Her trademark green eyes reminiscent of green rolling hills, and above all her crowning glory; her golden hair. You have to understand it was not merely golden, but a warm melty honey liquid color. A cloak of pure gold draped on her shoulders for all the world to admire. And swoon at. It would have been a sin to truncate this hair, thus every year it would get longer and thicker, a thick rope coiled around her dainty head. A delight to all who laid eyes on her.
But all good things have to end.
It was a harmless trip to the country side. No one knew where or when that 9 year old princess went missing. Befuddled. Flummoxed. For how could a girl just vanish?
"You tramp." A voice thin and sharp pierced the air. Lydia was dumped onto the floor of a squalid 60 ft tall tower. Flicking her eyes towards her captor, she said dismissively" Take me back whence I came from. You had no right to swipe me....." She spoke with authority and tone which implied everyone in the world was wearisomely stupid, most of all her captor. A ringed hand which came out if nowhere struck her with such force and intensity it made Lydia balk."Don't you ever talk to me in that tone!" As the women bent down to scrutinize her face, her whole demeanor changed. " I wonder what would Edward do if he knows I have his precious daughter?" She yanked and her hair, taking fistfuls of it with her filthy hands." Queen Anastasia never deserved such beauty, such hair, Edward was mine! Always mine!" She wrapped it around her fingers and slammed her to the ground with a feral scream.She was mad. Lydia's lower lip trembled. She had always been fawned on, and the ramifications of never experiencing fear before was that she did the only thing she knew how to do. She screwed up her face and howled.
The pain coursing through her was immense. Hands and feet struck her, each blow worse than before. Dragging herself out of reach, she didn't know how she did it, either by limping or crawling or just plain wriggling, she began crying. She was just 9, albeit spoiled and pampered, even so she was just a child. Snuffling and weeping, she barricaded herself in a corner and grieved. For her family and her fear.
"She's left, you can come out now." A voice belonging to a young boy of her age peeked at her from her hiding place. " If you're smart,you will cover up your hair, it's her need for vengeance that fuels her tempers"he said. " Why do I have to hide my beauty? What right did she have to swipe me from under the noses of the royal guards? To spike my drink ?" Lydia replied indignantly. " That temper coupled with your idiocy is suicide." He replied curtly. " Why does she hate my mother? And my father is involved ?" She pressed on. He gave a short shrug, reluctant to answer. "She wanted the King to remember her other than just a mistress. So she impregnated herself in a desperate bid for his love. Now she is stuck with a burden. Her fury has consumed her" he looked at Lydia squarely in her eyes. " and you are her only outlet." He added without inflection.
"You don't look much like my dad. He has brown eyes and blonde hair. You on the other hand, don't." Her voice came out muffled as she flopped down beside him." As if I am that rotten playboy's son!" He muttered scornfully, not bothering to conceal his distaste. " Yes I see and your legitimate dad has so much class and morals." Lydia retorted viciously.
"Whatever, at least he doesn't pick up and dispose women so arbitrarily." He said airily. He stood up, signaling an end to their conversation. He plunged his hand in his pocket and produced a black linen with a elastic band. Drawing out a shard of glass, he thrusted both onto her lap.
"A word of advice ,princess." He snapped.
Her hair was legendary. It had avoided 9 years of haircuts. No one dared to touch even a hair on her head and now this? Fumbling with the shard, she pressed it to her her exquisite hair and with a determined set to her mouth, she willed herself not to fail. Not to flail her hands in indecision as chunks upon chunks of buttery golden hair came tumbling down.
She barely recognized herself anymore. This foreign girl in a grimy dress and crop short hair hidden in a black linen. It was vile. It was hideous. It could not be her. Her scattered hair lay limp on the floor, a bit of sunshine held captive in this drab room.
