The Daughter Of Illéa

Chapter 58

The days flushed itself in cameras, screaming crowds, and reversed manuscripts of what I'm going to say in front of the camera. I had everything organized: the introduction, my life, and me... The only remaining factor laid on my bed, resting in it's folder. The required questions.
I walked over to my closet and grabbed the white v-neck along with jeans I've been dying to wear. My hair wasn't specially done, like Wanda had wanted, but instead rolled in a bun. My glasses, the one object that absorbed all my pride, all my past, was resting on the bridge of my nose. I didn't look like a princess nor a lady...and that's exactly what I wanted. I look in the mirror and see her. Delilah Primar. The one whose mother died of pneumonia and father went into a state of depression. The one who suffered years with Maria Khroker, the modeling agent. The one who was fortunate enough to be seduced into the world of luxuries and a hot sarcastic prince. I glance around the room making sure the portraits of my family on my wall was straight and the blankets on my bed were wrinkle free. I propped up the camera onto the tripod, clicked record, and as the red light began blinking I crossed my legs while I sat on the green comforter of my bed.

I smiled rather uncomfortably, and the same torture ran through my stomach as it had always had on the report. "So uhm...these are the questions that were required to answer so here we go," I lift the folder and open it, taking out the papers.

"How do you feel about Women's Rights?" My voice spat out with a strong southern accent as I racked my brain for the correct response. "I believe women are just as equal and as capable as men. I'm not as far as saying I'm a hard core feminist, but I do believe equality. For instance, many greats rule the world, and all just so happen to be men...I understand, you all see men as great leaders. Though have you sat back and actually focused on the source of Women Support of Illéa? Hero Carver, our Queen, is astonishingly independent and rational. She has a gift. So, I want you all to take a look around at your wives, your daughters, your aunts or mothers, and just acknowledge them. If it wasn't for equality of the women in today's Illéa they would not be as strong and open minded as those of the past. Both sexes stand together as we are the present and most importantly, the future." I weakly smile at my speech and continue. "Do you see yourself possibly becoming the future Queen of Illéa?" I hold my breath and begin my answer. "Honestly, no. Look at this..." I gestured towards myself. "...I'm not Princess material, but some think different. She was a six, along with myself. She had a rough life with finically issues and living in general. She wasn't luxurious or was damned in jewels. She's the Queen of Illéa. Hero Carver is an inspiration to those who never knew life like that...she's what we call hope." I racked my brain for the ten minutes answering questions when I finally reached the last one: "What do you think of Prince Augustus Schreave?" His name got caught in my throat like an unnecessary cough that just would arise. What did I think of Prince Augustus Schreave?

***

The goodbyes to my family had already arrived, and the fact of leaving them was unbearable. Maybe I could. Maybe I could stay here and ship my belongings home, and put in a good word for Arena. Maybe I could be free from Augustus' grasp of my heart and learn to live and love here. However many times it thought it, I didn't mean it. There was something about the sarcastic obligated douche bag that just made me come back to him. Caught up in my own thoughts, I was uplifted, from the yellow home in Atlin, and onto the silver bullet in the sky where I drifted into an unsustained fantasy.

There stood the boy I grown to love, dashed in a jeans and a button up, his hair rustled, and dimples increased into his cheeks. His toned arms lightly wrapped around my small fragile body, and there it was...small blonde heads skittering around the room and another in our arms. "Delilah..." He whispered, and eventually it grew into an unsatisfying scream.

It was in that moment I realized Piper was countlessly screaming my name, "God, are you deaf!? We're here, and do me a favor and wipe away your drool...disgusting." She snarled as she strutted of the Illéa provided jet. I rolled my eyes (and yes, I wiped away my drool) and I followed her off the plane. There ran the usual overpowering crowds with signs, as I through hazy sights blew them kisses and waved at the best of my intentions. Driven by a limo, we arrived at the palace. It's cream colored pillars and the glistening windows made me smile. And even from the inside walls, I can see the tips of the coated mountains and evergreen trees that Gus had once told me he adored. The cobblestone path didn't last long, as we I stepped out I felt a rising sensation in my stomach. The palace doors were open, and there the sensation rose even more.
Instead of jeans and a button up in my dream, he stood in a dashing get up. His hair slicked, and a plastered smirk. In that moment I didn't witness Augustus Schreave, the Prince, the heir, the obligated sweet heart of Illéa. I witnessed Gus. The sarcastic, smirking, bastard that I fell for.
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PART 2 IS CLOSE TO AN END!
I hope you enjoy this chapter, I tried making it as long as I could!
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QOTC: Favorite TV Show/s?
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AOTC: The Walking Dead and The 100!
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