High Society

1 | Welcome Home

Astra's eyes flutter open unconsciously, even as her pounding head protested against the action. Her left cheek felt sore from being propped up against the door of the car and she straightened herself on the leather seat. The english countryside rolled by through the windows of the car, the ever-gray skies heavy with impending rain.

Astra's stomach dropped as her mind registered the surroundings and the destination which was becoming closer. Home, her head said, but her heart didn't register it.

Kensington manor hasn't been her home for over a year. Between studying at the boarding school in Switzerland and then traveling across Europe during the summer, Astra hasn't returned to England since then.

The town of Oxford rolls into view and Astra can feel her heart beating in her chest frantically. Please take me somewhere else, her mind screamed in vain, please take me somewhere that isn't here.

Taking a deep breath, she compartmentalized the irrational thoughts coursing throughout her head and threw them into the back of her mind. There's no need to think this way, no reason to feel anxious, she thought. You're home.

The car cross by Oxford University and then continue heading west into the historic town. Astra place her fidgeting hands over her lap and physically held them still to try to steady them. The car finally stopped before massive wrought iron gates and the driver punched the security number on the wall. The gates automatically open and the Range Rover glides forwards into the gravel path.

It hasn't changed a bit, even the rose bushes that Astra's mother carefully tend to are intact, the garden flourishing despite of the harsh weather. The estate looms before the adolescent as the car charges forward, the historic building conserved to the smallest details. The pond which stands directly in front of the house shines with the silver light of the skies, and the marble statues adorning it are filled with expressions forever conserved in stone.

Elegant tendrils of ivy creep up on the building, making it look rather rustic despite of the careful carvings on the stone over the windows and on the walls. The grassy fields which spread for acres behind the house are visible, the lush green landscape used for games of polo, riding horses and picnics during summer.

Astra suddenly find herself happy to be back. This land is as much part of herself as her skin or muscles, and she loves it regardless of how much time she's been away. Even so, Astra can't help the feeling of dread coursing through her stomach and the conflicting thoughts that scream leave while she wants to stay.

The driver opens the door and Astra thanks him while giving him a small smile, and he returns the gesture with kind eyes. Her feet touch the ground and she tilts her head upwards and stare at the massive construction above her with thoughtful eyes. She thought she wouldn't be in between these walls for a long, long time. Astra wouldn't have come back if it wasn't for her mother's incessant pleading.

It didn't work, but then she sent people to fetch Astra and she was practically forced to get on a plane.  

It's good to see you, she mentally says to the castle as it looms above her, and she continues down the carefully managed gravel courtyard.

She places a foot on the first step of the stairs and then the other. Astra wills herself to climb the steps and then cross the grand doorway which leads to the main room of the house. Tapestries and paintings cover the walls and the marble floor is polished to the point where she can see her own reflection on it. Elegant columns hold the high ceiling above the ground floor, and the fresco painting is breathtaking upon sight.

"Lady Astra," She hears her name being called and visibly flinches at Lady. It's been a while since somebody used the title. 

For the past year,  Astra managed to avoid her titles and all the tiresome obligations by leaving England. No more lady anything, and no more rules that come with being the Duke of Oxford's daughter. She blended in with the rich and the royalty in one of the most pompous schools in Switzerland,  a place where people such as a billionaire Russian gangster's daughter could casually sit by her side in latin class, and both of them would chat about the new Fendi bag that just came out.