Storyline:
"Tell me another one!" The Princess claps and wiggles on her chair.
While certainly not out of the ordinary for her, especially in areas which could hold prying ears and eyes, this was a little uncalled for. There were people around, most likely those of high-status and some sort of power or another. They could see this behaviour unfold, and they did, eating it up with wide and greedy eyes.
Now there Cara stood (or rather sat) in between a rock and a hard place. Was she to please the Princess and displease all the others by telling yet another story about a rebellious and rambunctious woman or would it be better to please a room full of people a risk displeasing the Princess and causing whispers to spread? It was near-impossible to tell which would backfire the most.
Never would Cara have ever thought she would play diplomat and right into the hands of those she sought to piss off her entire not-so-long life. Never would she have considered which would be the safest option instead of wreaking havoc and causing wide-spread distress. She wondered if it had something to do with the conspicuous lack of her saner, calm brother or something they put into the food to addle her mind.
Whatever it was, she knew what she'd do. Please the Princess as she was Cara's ticket off to see the King. Gain an audience with him was her only goal, after all. There had been whispers in her mind that she should just keep quiet so as to stay securely in this safe position. She banished that thought as quickly as it had come for not only would her cover be blown before long, she would never comply with the system as so many did. She was here, she would be in the same room as the King, alone, and on that day, all hell would break loose, just as she likes it.
So, she wrote her thoughts down, her worries, and worded her hatred for all this again, as she had written many times before in the pile of papers sitting on her desk. Right after she had burned it as it was not safe enough in the castle for her to add to the pile once she got out. She could always re-write. As she watched the ink-stained papers blacken, the fires within herself reignited to the same dark burn that had been there when she spat in the faces of the guards. It was a surprise they had not recognized her when she passed them. Maybe it was the hair. First this she was doing was cutting that as short as could be the moment chaos started.
"Christy?" The Princess asked, the tapping of her foot taking on an impatient beat. "Another story?"
It had only been seconds, and Cara's failure to deliver was already bringing looks. Everyone always watched far more closely than it appeared. Gossip was the best story, and scandal was the best gossip. These people were so bored out of their minds, it was all they had to stop the sounds of clinking glasses from driving them insane.
"Oh yes, sorry Princess." Cara's voice cracked with exhaustion and dehydration. "What sort would you like to hear?"
Cara already knew the answer. The same as the last hundreds of times. Adventurous rebels living their lives from one day to the next. A story of a hero, but the home or compassionate side. Or perhaps, in other words, the tale of Cara, told from the perspective of the heroine herself. Her likes, dislikes, and the little details that the passive observer missed. Her opinions on matters that were told in such a way that the elite always turned a mottled shade of red and started to vibrate like an angered potato-sized dog.
True to her nature, the Princess frowned slightly and reiterated what she had before. "The same sort of story as before."
Cara smiled graciously, ready to start talking when an elderly lady who smelled like dust and forgotten perfumes grabbed her arm in a claw-like grip. "I hear what you're telling the young lady, and I'd be careful if I were you." She spoke as if the Princess was not even less than a foot away from her, and to the Princess's credit, she did not even react, keeping a vapid expression on her face. "She's an impressionable one and we wouldn't want her getting the wrong ideas here now, would we?"
The smile didn't break or even crack making Cara a little irrationally proud. "Oh, of course, ma'am. I understand completely, however, these are just stories, and the Princess asks for them specifically."
"You would not want to upset the King now, would you?"
"Of course not."
The wrinkled claw of a hand tightens momentarily. "Well then, step carefully. He greatly values his daughter."
Cara's cheeks hurt from smiling so senselessly until the wicked crone of a woman had shuffled and creaked to the other side of the room to go do something at this not-a-party. Once she had well and truly left, Cara took up telling the most rebel-loving story she could dream up, alienating the rich and humanizing the poor. This was causing more commotion than necessary, but she did as she wished because no one, not even a sour old woman, would tell her when to keep her mouth quiet.
The Princess laughed at seemingly nothing, most likely either holding up her insipid image or understanding what Cara had done. It upset the higher-ups so much, even Cara could not keep in a chuckle or two once they were back in the privacy of the Princess's chambers. The Princess was laughing with unbridled glee.
Once she had caught her breath, she turned to Cara. "That you for that scandal, Christy. It was quite the high point of today, although that's not a high bar to reach." She flaps her hands in the air with quite some apathy. "Send of whatever you must right now, I'll gain you the audience you wish to have with my father."
"Really and truly? This is great." Cara started off to do so, but quickly stopped and inspects the young girl looking out the window at the grey world below, hair shining in the sunlight. "You are aware that this will most likely end very badly for your father if this plan goes through. The worst ending you could have for a man like him."
"The king?" She asks, facing out the window. "While he certainly loves me as much as a man like him can, you cannot see beyond the walls of the castle nor through the cracks of these thick doors. There's a reason as to why I agree with this, and that reason ensures my loyalty."
"And you're not going to share it with me," Cara says, knowing it, but voicing the statement all the same.
"No, you're correct in that assumption. Some things you simply do not share. Now go do. I'll get you something in three days at noon. All I ask is what we've discussed." She turns to Cara with a quirk to the corner of her lips. "Although this all is payment enough, I do want to live the rest of my life, preferably in peace and comfort."
And so, Cara did as she had been told. The days passed in a few quick heartbeats, so quickly that it felt as if the moment she had opened the door out of the Princess's room, she had landed with her fist on the throne room doors announcing her arrival. Her fingers tingled, and she shuddered once with an indescribable emotion coursing through her. The Princess had delivered, and now it was Cara's turn to hold court until something happened.
Talk to the king. The reminder rang through her head and the words of the answering letter flashed before her eyes. Tell him to retreat. Give him a chance and show your humanity. The world will be watching. Phrases and unwritten words of warning that had been clear as day. Of course, now the letter was burned, no evidence for anyone to find anymore. Leave the doors open if you can. We'll come storming in right at noon. See you there. And just like that, Cara entered with determination.
The king, so much smaller when not sitting a few metres above the crowd, lounging on his simple grey chair. It was so much more beautiful than anything Cara could have dreamed of sitting on but dull in comparison to the rest of the castle. The whole room was. It gave Cara's eyes a break, but at the same time made her instantly hunger for more glitter and shine. The King waited, quiet, so Cara spoke instead, having so very much to say.
"My name isn't Christy." She said simply. "I am Cara. Cara Lugo."
The King sat up, startled, but his eyes weren't on Cara, they were on something behind her. Slowly, Cara turned, feeling a presence right there.
"Hello, brother." James sneered with a grimace of a smile, and shot the weapon, landing it right in the heart of the King. "I'm back."
Cara turned and ran, for the fight was on, and what a fight it was going to be.
* * *
Writing:
Those who run are cowards, yet they survive the heat of battle and avoid fights that end with a knife to their throats. Those who stay to fight are brave, yet they most often end up in the dirt, choking on their own blood with a knife of a lost friend in their backs. So which is better? Cowardly or bravery? Wise or a fool?
There is no true way to tell, for the narratives on this conflict. There will be disagreements on this until the day humanity snuffs out and only animals are left.
Choose the right path or the guillotine will fall on you one way oranother; for humans cannot twist fate in their favour. Choose the best choiceso that you may live, for life is the only true invaluable treasure we humanshold.