The Diary of A King's Mistress

16th January 1668

        Today I had decided to go to my library that was gifted to me by King Edmund. As I entered the titanic room, books caked in dust sat side by side along what I felt was miles of bookshelves. The books gave off a scent of history, or what others would call dust. Even touching the books, made my heart flutter a million beats in one moment. The genres of the books differed from factual history to tall tales by authors of great legacy.

        I believe I had spent an extremely large portion of the day in the library, for when I left, the moon had risen in the sky and the torches had been lit. But as I walked through the shelves, I felt as if someone had been observing me. The feeling troubled me so well that I had left. When I went back to my chambers, my fire had not been lit, nor any food in placement. I had been so enamored by literature that I had not eaten a crumb today. My stomach kvetched to me as I sat upon my bed in my night gown. The noises and pain grew so great that I had no choice but to seek out food. It made me feel awry that nobody had checked up on me all day, since I had arrived I was unable to have privacy to think, but the last day nobody glances upon me.

        My feet sounded weightless as I snuck into the kitchen. Flour laid staining the wooden table that wrapped around the entire room. Aprons that were recently hung and too, stained from the days work, decorated the plain stone walls. The pots and pans used to bake the cuisine were stacked on the far wall. As I admired the room for it's simpleness, the sound of a set of people echoed through the cellar.

        There were twain people that were, what I presume to be intoxication, stumbling down the corridors and exchanging kisses and other acts that are more suitable behind a closed door after exchanging marriage vows. It was as if they did not care if the King himself had been watching them. The man pulled the woman into the corner illuminated by the moon as I hid behind the pantry door. He touched her in a way that made me blush a crimson red. I could feel the heat leave through the pores on my skin.

        Within a few moments, the passion had been satisfied and they separated, him going back the way they came and she going up the stairs to her chambers. The act I had just seen lingered in my head that night. I had never seen intercourse actually consummated. My mother had told me how a man makes love to a woman, but not what happens specifically. Back in my village, women my age would be married with four or five children by now, but I was at the age of six and ten, leaving me a pirah to any men. It confuses me why women are bound to be married so young. My mother had me when she was thirteen, my grandmother was twelve when she had my mother, and it appeared I was disappointing them with each passing day. That may be why my father sent me away so quick.

        I have not thought of my parents in some time, but it hurts not knowing if they are alright. Nicolo had just left them and they were all one another had left. Mother always told me of a true love-that was not my father, his name had been Nathaneal. He was a man of great political and social importance. She would always talk about his dark eyes but charming heart and their rendezvous in the forest. His family had perished in a fire some odd years before they met and only her parents were an obstacle. Although we are to marry young, we are to marry a man within a young age-for the better chance of health in fertility. Nathaneal was two decades or so older than my mother and was far more experienced then she. He had been killed in the War of Red Creek, leaving my mother with a broken heart-whom my father then mended. As for my father, he had always told me that mother was his true love-and it hurt knowing that her true heart was not lying with him, but a soldier who had perished long before I had been born.

        I snuck back into my room that night and slid under my covers and did my absolute best not to cry. To be frank, I missed my cottage with the scent of lilac and lavender lingering constantly, my mother's broth in the evening, and my father's medical lessons every day he himself was not requested to work. As I thought of all the things I had left behind, tears escaped from my eyes, eventually falling asleep and dreaming of a life I was no longer accustomed to.