Intermittent flecks of colour leap across the blurred edges of Astraea's vision amidst the raging storm of white. Biting winds lash across her numb face causing tears to swim in her eyes. As she looks to her left she sees mama. She rides tall and proud atop her light grey mare who's almost indistinguishable from the flakes of pure white snow that dance atop currents of air all around them. Mama's navy blue cloak billows behind her, it stands stark against her pale blonde hair which is braided back tightly against her scalp and then snakes its way down her back.
On her right is papa, his sleek back mare rides slightly ahead of Astraea, it maintains a steady gallop as they pound through field after field. He rides like a Lord should, confident and dexterous with every move, his chest - pierced.
A sleek arrowhead protrudes from his shirt which is now ruined by a growing pool of crimson. Looking back at mama Astraea sees an identical scene. Her face is slack- confused. Slowly her head turns to Astraea, she sees the realisation dawn on her face before she mouths one word at her. Go. Her whole body then goes slack and limp as she begins to float towards the ground like all the delicate flakes of snow around her. Astraea looks back for papa only to find his riderless mare still galloping towards home just as she has always been taught to do. Thoughtlessly, Astraea urges her own valiant steed onwards, following papa's mare towards home; towards safety; towards answers.
Sweat flowed along every ravine of Astraeas shaking body as she gasped awake. She could feel her heart pounding to the drums of war. Shakily, she drew in a deep breath in an effort to clear her racing mind. As she resurfaced fully from the deep slumber she had been in her senses began to take note of the room she was in. She was sprawled across silken sheets that were soft to the touch, her eyes noted the scrawled writing on her walls, poems she had written in an effort to control the memories that still haunted her every time she closed her eyes and finally the smell of freshly cooked breakfast taunting her from downstairs. That part of my life is over, she thought to herself. This is my new home.
Astraea sullenly resigned to get out of bed. She always had to don a corset if she was to be seen by anyone at all so she began to loosely lace the one she deemed most comfortable. Then came the task of layering up her various petticoats and pulling on her excessively large skirts. Today she had chosen a beautiful sea foam which was complimented by the exquisite gold detailing on her outermost petticoat. She walked over to her ornate mirror which hung grandly on the far wall and ran a brush through deep golden waves.
Astraea regarded herself in the mirror. Her green eyes were offset by a faint ring of gold that caught in the light and seemed to glow, her slender yet well built nose was covered in a smattering of freckles and her plump, pink lips looked luscious as always. The form of her body was a perfect hourglass, envied by every other female courtesan in the kingdom. Ugh. Astraea had loathed her looks since the day she was found by her mistress, wandering alone atop her horse, dazed and confused.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Empress of stars
FantasíaAfter her parents death when she was only nine years old, Astraea was forced into the life of a courtesan. For seven years she trained to become an eloquent lady, she was cherished by her mistress for her stunning features until one visit to see a w...
