Black Butterfly

.: 03 - The Marking :.

Meredith cracked a smile and rose back up. "Of course, my duties are to the princess first and foremost."

Isabella smiled tenderly at the woman. For as long as she can remember, Meredith has been apart of her life. As far as she's concerned, Meredith was apart of the family. They were so familiar with each other now that it was easy to be themselves around each other.

Together, the two sorted out which dress was appropriate. The old handmaid helped the princess into a fluffy blue one that went just an inch past her knees. Isabella had to bend her knees so the shorter woman could properly tie the back. The cerulean blue lace criss-crossed up her back.

"There now, all done." At Meredith's confirmation, Isabella smiled into the long mirror she was facing. Her long hair was clipped back, but it still spilled down her back.

"Thank you for your help, you know how to pick them." Isabella gave a small twirl.

Meredith smiled, revealing a dimple at the corner of her mouth. "You're welcome, now you better hurry before you're late!"

The princess nodded, giving a quick wave to the woman, and then she was off racing down the halls of her home.

. * .

If a stranger were to visit the Velondale castle, they would surely be lost among all the twists and turns of the old corridors. But as Isabella grew up among them, she mapped out the entirety of it.

All but the dungeons, where she was not allowed.

The large dining room they had held a long table meant to hold a large party of guests. When it was just the family, however, they all sat on the right end of the table. Her father was the head, her mother to the right of him, and then Isabella and her sister to his left respectively.

Just as Isabella made it into the room, her mother called out for her.

"Isabella dear, I need you to gather Joyce and bring her here. She should be playing in the garden," her mother told her, and the royal heir only nodded. Her mother's voice was kind, but it held a strong tone that didn't allow disobedience. Her honey blonde hair was put up in a regal fashion that did wonders for her sharp and elegant face.

Isabella left before she could glance at her father, and soon she felt a fluttering inside her. She nearly stumbled on her way, surprised that she had forgotten about Immortelle.

You live an interesting life. The Messenger noted, and Isabella focused on the echo of that velvet voice. It was still strange to hear it inside her mind.

The princess didn't know how to comment back to that. Immortelle was an outsider looking in, and she wasn't used to this yet. The palace life was all she'd ever known. So she kept walking down the hallway and to the door that led to the garden her sister frequented.

Her younger sister just turned eleven, and she had become a quiet one. She used to be loud and hyper, running through the castle and causing mischief like a little goblin. Isabella wasn't sure if it was early puberty that hit, but her sister did not do those things anymore. In fact, she seemed oddly mature for her age.

With extra schooling being done to improve Isabella's knowledge on how to run her kingdom, it left little time to spend with her sister. Not only that, but her sister preferred spending time outside with the Maegie, much like Isabella did growing up.

It was a strange turn of events; how in such a short time, her and Joyce had become strangers living under the same roof. She never wanted it to happen, but it did. They had been a lot closer years ago . . .