Searching for Starlight

Upon the Dawn

I knew something was amiss when I couldn't recall what happened last night. 

Gently awakened by the sounds of water droplets clinking in the bathroom sink, I began to lazily account the events during the summer solstice party, but there hadn't been anything of note to my recollection. 

The play was the same it has been, the company was the same, the food was even the same as it has been for the past 3 years- all in the same order, every single year. It's almost as if a year had passed in a day, and we were carrying on with a repeat of the night prior at each and every one of these damned events. 

What could have been different? I thought to myself. 

Maybe I drank a bit too much out of boredom, and that's why I can't recall anything past midnight? 

I moan, stirring gently as I try to collect my last conscious thoughts from the night before. I remember enjoying the western courtyard of the property, my favorite stone held my blanket on it from my mid-afternoon nap, which I collected to lay flat on the grass to stare into the milky abyss of the night sky. The evening primroses and moonflowers that Gran had started inside this past winter had begun to mature into their proper beauty, and oddly enough, the thought strikes a feeling of Deja vu reminding me of someone saying that to me last night, but when? 

The evening became even fuzzier as I tried to focus and piece together where I had heard that sentence, who spoke it to me. 

It must have been around midnight, ah, yes! As the clock struck midnight in the great belltower upon the mountain chapel, I remember the cheers of the townsfolk in a cacophony around me! 

I must have wandered back into the great hall, yes! Maybe Annabelle will know what happened, she is usually right beside me at these events anyway. 

That beautiful awkward girl, so hindered by her social anxiety she can not utter a word without having me on her arm to help guide the conversation. Oh, Sweet Annabelle, how is it that such an amazingly intelligent being can not communicate what goes on in her head to anyone but me? 

"Annabelle?" I say softly, expecting her to be beside me as I lazily open my eyes, but nothing changes. It is unnaturally dark, I blink a few times out of confusion... 

My room is never this dark...

Then, I hear a chuckle. I freeze. That is a man. I heard a man. Why is there a man near my room?

The only men I have been allowed to know for most of my life are immediate family members, occasionally I meet potential suitors that my family finds to be desirable for business or political reasons. I always humor these men as they try to show me extravagance to win my heart, and report back to my parents any and every unfavorable characteristic they may have. "Oh, it can't be him, his family has been known to bear twins. No, not him either, he can't even ride a horse!" I say, knowing fully well that I am running out of time and that they are running out of options for me. "One day, you're going to have to settle." My father says sternly. I gently shrug, act disappointed that the last male wasn't my interest, and then run off to find Annabelle. 

How do they not realize that she has my heart? 

I hear some shuffling in the hallway. "Wait... what's going on?" I ask in an annoyed tone, blinded by the absolute darkness that had entrapped me. I began to fumble around, without any sense of direction, until the back of my hand abruptly finds a cold, hard wall. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" I scream, knowing full well that what I had hit was cement. 

Where the fuck am I? I try to roll over onto my stomach, but for some reason, I can't move the lower half of my body. Oh no. Is this the dungeon? What the hell did I do?

 "Hello?" I say aloud, "Where am I?" I say a little louder. A gruff, male voice answers back, "Where ye think ye are, princess?" I shudder, the voice is as familiar as it is foreign. 

"I'm in the Greymela Castle," I respond matter-of-factly, with as much authority as I can muster. He snortles in response. "Is that righ', princess?" The sarcasm dripping off of each word, "B'cause it 'pears to me tha' ye in the dunjen of Nigh'in'gal." "Nightingale?!?" I exclaim, trying to conjure an image of the countries' geography in my head, and then the shock sets in. "How am I in the flatlands? Do my parents know about this? How did this happen? Who are you?!" I ask each question rapidly, without breath, and notice that breathing seems to be a much harder task than ever. 

Damn, I must be in the flatlands...