Writer Games: Royals

QUARTERFINALS: Ilva Versutio

My knees are shaking in the sleek green silk gown, but no one can see. I'm crying, no one notices. My hands are balled into fist but they're completely relaxed. I'm fainting, but still conscious.

The garden surrounding me used to appear colourful, exciting and beautiful. All the flowers are dead now, despite them blooming brightly. The world has turned gray, loudly screeching at me, going on and on and on, in an endless innuendo: "Stupid, stupid, stupid".

Stupid. Stupid to believe I had a fair chance in the Selection, a fair chance in winning his heart. Stupid to never having accepted that every moment might well be the last.

Stupid to believe I could afford falling in love blindly, head over heels and heart skyhigh over head.

Stupid to believe that I could be queen. So stupid.

When Marvrillia left, she left with grace, waving at the camera when they sent her off, waving and smiling at me, whispering in my ear that she knew I'd win when she hugged me goodbye. I ponder hating her for giving me the confidence that I could win.

Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away, a voice sings lightly in my head. Another piece of Marvrillia, the snippets of songs she left in my ears.

Now I'm also crying because of losing her, my only true friend.

The green dress has earthy stains, brown and green, adorned by red splashs of blood from my torn up arms from when I ripped off all the roses that looked like the one Calyx left with me with the locked book. The book lies in front of me know, looking just as dirty and ragged as I do.

Jessamine's note is still clutched in my hand, stained by blood and tears and bits of lightly purple rose petals.

"Help me, Ilva, you're the only one who could talk some sense into him! Please help me!"

Short and full of meaning, but forcing me into a deep conflict. I don't quite understand why exactly she should need my help out of all people, but everything Jess does has a sense, that had been clear right from the start.

I don't know what makes me help her in the end. Maybe it is the slight hope that maybe she will help me stay in the palace at the end of the day. The sun is sinking steadily, reminding me of how little time I have left.

The book is tightly clutched in my steady hands. The quivering has stopped the moment I decided to talk to him. I do not dare saying his name anymore, not even in my head. It just hurts too much.

At first I have no idea where to look for him, so I let my feet carry me without my help.

I end up in the library and cannot help but notice the irnoy. The library is the place where it all started, the place I fell in love with him, the place I learned that Marvrillia would leave in the evening, the place I love and loath at the same time.

It smells just like it did when I firsr entered it, but the magic is gone.

The aisles don't seem to come to an end, no matter how deep into the library I walk. It no more my goal to reach Calyx, but the end of the library, as if everything would change once I reached the end of the room full if histories and stories and maybe his stories.

The painting at the end of the room almost knocks me straight down as I plummet into my second artwork in only a few weeks.

However, this one decided not to fall on top of me but just sways and hits the ground once the nails holding it, give away.

It is another magical scene, showing a greek ancient palace and a group of people standing in front of it. They all wear silver and golden clothing, carrying a strange object. In the middle stands a man, towering over the others by almost a foot. His hand clutches a golden bolt of lightning. I remember him from my latin courses in school: Zeus, or Iuppiter, whatever you want to call him. The father of gods surrounded by his fellow gods and goddesses. He looks suspiciously like the king and I look away immediately. To his right, there is his queen, Hera or Iuno in this case. I also recognise Calyx and Jessamine. And off on the right, there is Athena. I remember Hades once saying that I was worse than Athena with my thrive for knowledge and cannot helo but think that this Athena looks the slightest bit like me. This thought makes me smile the slightest bit, but it is better than tears again.