Falling of the Stars

Chapter 3 - Rowena

My mother watched over the course of the next hour as Wilda proceeded to pluck stray body hairs, dress me, and brush and arrange my hair to their liking. I hated every minute of it.

Before I knew it, I stood in front of the grand floor mirror twice the size of me. It was one of my favorite belongings in my rooms, and I had taken special care in putting it in a place that allowed the light from the windows and doors to reflect back at certain times of the day. It chased away every shadow in my room.

My pale green eyes stared back at me in my reflection of the gold bordered mirror, not a flicker of emotion in their depths before they swept over the rest of me. My figure was nothing special. I was healthy, a little bit leaner than the average woman. A little taller than the average, which wasn't saying much. Wilda had gone for a very feminine look today to accentuate everything I had to offer.

Soft.

Delicate.

Submissive.

Every bit the image they wanted me to be, the perfect, beautiful princess. Bride to be.

I wore an empire waisted light pink gown that has loose and flowing skirts, with sleeves to match. A silvery jewel encrusted belt circled the top of the waistline of the dress, the only real adornment to my outfit besides small jewels sewn into the neckline of the bodice. My whitish-blond hair had been curled and gently arranged in a half-up style with pink ribbons holding pieces away from my face. Everything fluttered with the slightest of movements as if I were an ethereal goddess.

Or maybe I was really just a faerie, made of pieces pulled from clouds.

I turned away from the mirror, having gone silent long before Wilda had even started on the project before her.

"Just the shoes..." The maid amended as she and my mother swapped approving glances.

She pulled out a set of silk slippers, that same pink to match, with bits of tiny jewels sewn into diamond shapes across it.

No other jewelry was placed on me, leaving the occasional sparkles of my dress the only thing to catch the eye. They had elaborately done it so my modestly covered chest would be focused on, as if to leave the viewer wanting more.

It made me feel ill at the thought. I was to be appraised in ways I didn't want to be. But even if I voiced those things, I knew I would not be heard.

Slipping my feet into the silk as if they were ballet slippers, they felt flimsy and unsupportive underfoot. But they would have to do.

Once she was sure she had arranged me to their perfect image and had fluffed my curls for the twelfth time, Wilda opened the doors to the hallway, and my mother led the way as if we were a parade. Maybe we were, as I instinctively walked with purpose, and my head held high as I had been trained my entire life. However, I truly felt like I was marching into battle. I only had my words, and my body language to fight. But they were a different type of weapon to wield.

Crossing an alcove from the east wing, where most of the nobility rooms were located, albeit on different floors, we moved into the north wing of the castle. Where most of the guest rooms were located, as well as other amenity rooms. We climbed one more floor before stopping outside a drawing room, where guards wearing two very different national uniforms stood respectfully outside.

My guards were dressed in Eldoria colors of blues and greens with silver poking through. A dove was embroidered on the breast as if in mid-flight, which in turn, my father had coined the nickname of endearment for me. For I was his pride and joy, as his kingdom was. His first born with a mind much like his own. He always loved to use the analogy of spreading my wings in regards to my endeavors. Until now.