The Remnant ✓

Part 1

Sometimes it felt like she couldn't breathe. 

This wasn't supposed to be how she felt, it wasn't even supposed to be on her mind. But the feeling was unavoidable, and she wondered how no one else felt pressured; as if their life had been decided for them.

Maybe they did, but they just went along with it, because it was what you're supposed to do. Was she supposed to just ignore that feeling of fear and insecurity, take a deep breath, and get on with it? She looked around the crowded room, the guy talking to her sounded like muffled noise now. She wasn't paying attention, not like a proper lady should, merely offering an occasional nod, or a forced laugh. Maybe she'd just lost the spark she once had as a child. When she lived a sheltered life, yet still felt everything on this world was at her fingertips. But she had grown up. Perhaps, there was just the need to get used to the grown up world, with all the shades of grey it had.

"Excuse me, but I'm afraid I have to leave now. It was delightful talking to you." She spoke, rudely interrupting her companion mid-sentence, but her chin held high. Even before the guy could respond, she spun around and walked away, her locks of brown hair bouncing down her back. Bored. She was bored of this life. At least in this period of life. At least now. And she couldn't wait till it went away. The fresh air that blew on her face as she stepped onto the balcony was a relief. It felt free. She felt free. And for a moment, she just stood there, gazing at the stars.

"Miss? Are you alright?" A young male voice asked and she turned her head to check who was disturbing her silent brooding.

The first thing she noticed about him were his bright blue eyes, like two guiding lights in the darkness. And she wondered how she'd never noticed him before. That's when his clothing, of a servant at this ball, came into view. He wasn't one of the noble men she was supposed to be talking with. Pity, she exhaled in disappointment. At least with him, she'd have a pair of beautiful eyes to look at, while he told her another one of the pointless stories she'd heard today.

"Do you ever feel kind of..." she started talking, but the word cut on her tongue.

"Gloomy, Miss?"

"Yes, gloomy. Do you ever feel like that?" at first, she was just thinking to herself really, but now she'd gotten curious. She was rich, she had everything she could ever wish for at her fingertips, she should feel happiness, not gloom. This man, on the other hand, this man should feel it.

"Sometimes, miss. I believe everyone does, but most simply don't show it. I'm blessed enough to have a good family, and find enough work, so I don't often allow myself to... wallow in self-pity." He said, with a cocky smile on his face, his voice even sounded like he was laughing a bit. His eyes loomed behind thick eye-lashes. Was he laughing at her? A servant?

"Is that what you think I'm doing? Wallowing in self-pity?" she walked towards him in swift steps and stopped directly in front of him, her voice sounding vicious, and her eyes blazing fire as she looked up at him. It was as if she was daring him... daring him to laugh at her.

"Yes, Miss. That's exactly what I think you're doing."

The shock wrapped around her heart and she even stumbled a bit backwards. No one had been honest like this with her before. No one had ever looked at her the way he was looking at her – with curiosity, amusement, wonder, laughter. But the thing that brought the most shock into her body, was how sure the boy was of his words. And the fact that this boy, this servant, at that moment, seemed to know her better than anyone in her life ever had.

An amused smile spread across her face as she extended her hand to him, "My name is Catherine D'Artagne. "

"Mason. Mason Turner, miss."