FEATURED BY @Retold
A fight for a kingdom that belongs to neither.
Aneira Guinevere was the fairest in the land - with her flowing dark tresses reminiscent of the midnight sky, and her delicate skin as pure as snow. Though the weight of her past l...
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Zara's pain medicines had worked wonders and Aneira had finally been able to get out of bed ever since the incident. But, when she did, she realized she was all alone.
"Zara?" she had called out. "Lady Zara?"
There was no response. The kitchen had been empty, and so was the little storage space in the back, and the adjacent barn.
She had wanted to thank the lady she was to call mother. However, Lady Zara was nowhere to be found. As Aneira retreated back into the living room, a dilapidated mirror, its surface glimmering with the touch of sunlight, caught her attention.
But it was her reflection that made her want to approach it.
She hadn't seen herself in a reflection ever since she had been sold. The sight frightened her. The gauntness of her cheekbones and the pallor of her skin served as stark testimony to the torment and deprivation she had endured. Yet, as she continued to study herself, the mirror only served to reinforce the haunting memories of her past escape.
Gently, she reached out and made contact with the mirror, drawing nearer to the glass. Her once vibrant eyes appeared devoid of hope after enduring months of darkness. Tracing her fingers across her face, she became acutely aware of the prominence of her emaciation.
But that moment hadn't been just her and her reflection. It included the sounds of conversing people right outside. She had been too afraid to find out what the commotion was about.
The last time she tried to discover the source of a commotion, she ended up being sold.
Little did she realize that her presence had ignited a fervor among the people.
Again.
However, her mind was abuzz with a multitude of thoughts, particularly the conversation she had engaged in with Zara.
☣
"You know you're a survivor, don't you?" Zara had asked Aneira, whilst she was still lying in bed.
"A survivor?"
"Yeah. You would have died if I hadn't found you."Zara didn't tend to show the most modesty.
"That I didn't know... Thank you, Lady Zara."
Zara smiled, remembering how effortlessly she could manipulate the thoughts of children. Her gaze rested upon the girl in bed, who now exhibited more vitality and a cheerier demeanor. "However, being a survivor also makes you a witness... I hope that notion has crossed your young mind, darling."
"What's a witness?" she asked.
"Well... a witness is someone who has observed or overheard things they shouldn't have. Someone with the capacity to disclose sensitive information to the world. People don't like witnesses."
