𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 ♕ ʙʙᴄ ᴍᴇʀʟɪɴ

𝖎𝖎 ♕ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇ

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II: POWER AND PURPOSE

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒. Dawn rose and gold light spilled from the edge of the horizon, flooding the fields with a newfound vitality. The shadows lifted from the lower town, and the cobblestone paths were illuminated by the rising sun. Ishild blinked, the dull warmth shining over her face. Crossing her legs over one another, she leaned further towards the glass, pressing her forehead against the metal frame. Her hands gripped the pole mechanism next to her leg, as she experimented for the fourth time that morning with wedging the window open. Just like the last three tries, the pole was stiff, and only made a high-pitched creaking noise when she applied more pressure. She tilted her head back, wincing as she hit the wall with a thump.

The night had held little else than displeasure. Between fiendish nightmares and her paranoid mind, she could find no rest. Ishild couldn't understand it; the last two nights had been fine enough. She had tossed and turned, taken walks along the darkened corridors in hopes of finding some solitude. Exhaustion weighed on her head, and yet she could not give into fatigue. She lingered wearily, eventually ending up on the ledge at her window, balancing on the edge of dreams. When dawn rose, Ishild was stirred by the clangs of industry from the lower town. Crows and pigeons croaked now and again, disturbing her every time she shut her eyes. She struggled to keep her head up against the wall. Groaning to herself, she scrubbed her face viciously. She had spent over a year sacrificing sleep for stumbling along the unmarked paths to her freedom. She wondered what sin her body was still trying to atone for, when she was so close to liberation.

The door opened suddenly, and Ishild jerked her head up from her hands. A maid floated into the room, with a basket at her hip. She carefully swooped her pastel skirts behind her, leaning to shut the door. She turned with the intention of swishing open the curtains, to find the princess half asleep on the windowsill.

"Oh! Lady Ishild?" She placed the basket down and came to her mistress's side. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Guinevere," Ishild replied, waving her hand. "I had a little trouble sleeping, that's all."

"My lady, you should be getting all the rest that you can. Come, let's get you back to bed," Guinevere said. She grabbed Ishild roughly by the arm and pulled her down from the windowsill. Ishild wobbled as her feet hit the ground, dizzied by the movement. She tried to pry away from the maid's grip, but her efforts were deficient.

"Guinevere, I don't—"

"With all due respect my lady, you do not particularly look well."