Cara Lugo [Complete]

Chapter Six: Her Royal Highness

Storyline:

"I hate it," Cara declared, falling into the seat.

Of course, there was no one there in the empty, cramped room. There hadn't been anyone there the last hundred times she had complained to empty air ... however much of it there was to complain to here. It was suffocating and lonely, the worst combination. Cara felt the pressing need to be alone in an empty room and have someone to talk to. The paradox of that wasn't lost on her, and she laughed like a maniac. Shut in a small closet-like space, laughing into the nothingness, never alone. It was a madhouse.

They spoke of her madness when she wanted to wreak havoc after getting this job. They spoke of her irrational ways and unstable mind. Still, Cara would stand her ground now, more than ever, that this was senseless and the worst place you could land (as a worker, that is). Sure, you got a decent pay here. Above the average, but who wanted that? At least, if you had to live here and entertain the brat for hours on end. To her, it was far more of a question as to who wouldn't want to blow this place to the ground. Who wouldn't? Cara certainly did.

And just like that, the bell above her doorway swung violently from side to side, and the shrill clang of metal on metal scraped on her eardrums. She winced and got up to tend to her childish charge, who was probably far older than her. Certainly, acted far more mature from individual recounts and in public appearances. Cara hoped she didn't do this to spite her, but rather ... got out her inner child to counteract the stiffness of the royal meetings; to put it delicately.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." She hissed in annoyance. "What did you do? Inhale dinner?"

Once again, there was no one there and Cara felt a pang of annoyance ... or perhaps longing, but she would never admit to that. Never to that.

It took mere minutes to reach the Princess's side, but it felt like hours with the way the ground needled her tired feet with every weary step. Of course, her highness sat delicately in a pretty chair. Her royal feet had not touched the ground to walk alone for hours. Always a man around to take her arm to help her into another chair for some other formality.

The difficulties of luxury weighed heavy on this one. Being a Princess was not easy if you asked her. In fact, she would tell any of the serving staff who would listen (and they would have to, in order to keep their jobs), that it was the hardest job of them all. Being put on a pedestal and in a gilded cage. Being presented to the world as a fine species of animal. Being forced to follow all the rules of the court, but without having the power to have any say in anything at all. Being a pretty little dolly was hard on the mind, she'd say.

Cara would have to turn her back to roll her eyes and pinch herself to make sure she wasn't in some nightmarish dream. What anyone wouldn't give to have those burdens of luxury she bemoaned and trade of their labour and toil of everyday life. Cara knew she would without a backwards glance.

Horribly contradictory with what she preached, what with the takedown of the power, but she would rather this than that. Someone truly dedicated may turn up their nose at the option, choosing to stay resolute in their beliefs and values, but that wasn't common sense. No, it made sense to take it. She could tell herself she was taking this down from the inside if she ever got the chance, so as to appeal to her morality.

In reality, this situation could never arise, Cara knew that. So, this sort of contemplation was silly. Senseless. The sort of fantasy simply born from working in this wretched place.

Still, the Princess had called for her specifically more and more in the last few days. While Cara's feet and aching limbs cried out in protest, it was still technically good. It pained her to admit it, but as odd it was, the insane plan James had formulated was working. For now. at least.