Our King
Arazelle
When I was merely a little girl, my nurse had made a game for me to play during boring dinner parties and meetings of my father's. She would have me braid together three colourful strings together under the table. There were only two rules that I can remember, and I can only assume they were the only ones. The first, I was not allowed to look under the table even once. Of course, as a child I would lie about dropping something, and then rapidly braid for a minute without stopping. The other rule was the worst. I was not allowed to practice outside the dinner parties. I had hated that rule the most. Being the kind of child I was, I found other ways to prepare. For weeks leading up to the event, I would squeeze my eyes tightly and braid either my own hair or my sisters' hair. Once the dinner party came around, I would sneak in before the meal began and stick a small tack or a nail at the seat I would be sitting at, and hide my string under the pleats and folds of my gown, or in the bodice until we were seating for the meal.
My father never noticed my game, and if he did, he didn't say anything about it, because I continued to quickly braid the pretty strings at age 18, while sitting across from my potential father in law to be, King Octavio of Orthero.
I knew right away I would not like this man. From the moment he walked in, with his arrogant strut and sly grin, his colours shone through. He was a loud man, a proud man, and most importantly, an annoying man. I doubt he even ever had to breath, because just listening to him talk the way he did made me lightheaded. The words were quick, short and little pause between them.
He mentioned his son a few times, most of those times he only said how his son would think I'm perfect. Not once did he so much as mention his son's name, and even if he did, I doubt I'd remember. I was never one to remember names.
"So, my fair princess Arazelle," Octavio finally said, for the first time giving me a chance to speak, "what do you think of the arrangement?"
Arrangement; not an engagement if love and romance and pure emotion, but an arrangement, a political ploy set in place by that stupid, unfaithful hag poor Annemarie is forced to call a mother.
I turned to both my sisters, who sat on either side of me. I was helpless. They didn't seem to know what to say, and neither did I. I gripped on to my braids and began to pleat faster, hoping it would calm my nerves. It didn't. "I-I-I've yet to give it much though m'lord." judging by the glare the king gave me, I could only assume that 'm'lord' was not the proper term to describe the man King Octavio thought he was.
"She's only 18, Your Majesty." Apryl muttered, a slight hint of sarcasm in her voice when she said the words 'Your Majesty." Though the king didn't pick up on it, I certainly did, and agreed wholeheartedly. There was nothing majestic about this fat, balding excuse for a man.
"My first wife was years her junior when we married. Princess Anabelle should have had marriage on her mind years ago."
"Arazelle." I corrected meekly.
"Pardon?" He asked with a harshness that sent shivers down my spine. The king seemed completely apalled that a princess would speak back to him without being spoken to.
"My name is Arazelle, not Anabelle." I mumbled, my voice weak and quivering. I wished I could be brave and strong like Apryl, because if I were, Octavio wouldn't be able to bend and break me like I knew he would once the arrangement was offical.
I tied a knot at the end of my braid and l felt around under the table until I found each of my sisters' hands. I held on tightly and made sure that even if they wanted to let go, though couldn't. I knew I was probably hurting them, but they didn't flinch or show any signs of pain, so I held on.
Octavio took one glance at the nervous expression on my face and smirked with joy. He stood up and walked over to a tall pasty woman that worked for my stepmother. Though I could see their mouths were moving, I couldn't make out the words.
"What do you think they're saying?" Annemarie asked, as she and Apryl leaned in closer to me.
"Can't tell," I mumbled, "Ryl, can you?"
She shook her head. "They're too quiet and too fast. I can't make out anything."
My sisters and I waited in agonizing silence for even a few words clear enough to hear. Finally, Octavio began to speak a little louder, yet The Evil's attendant was still o
Too quiet. "We'll take her, Anabeth or Alison or Zelda... What was her name? Little blonde with the big eyes?... Arazelle... I'll never remember that, but it doesn't matter... Yes, I realize she is a bit disrespectful talking back that way, but she's weak, she'll break and snap easily, just like my most recent wife. Don't worry. Have your queen make arrangements for my son and I to come within the next two weeks. The wedding will be at the end of the summer."
I gasped in horror. Did I get no choice in my own marriage? Tears began to pour down my face, but before I could protest, Octavio was gone, and my fate was sealed forever.
My father never noticed my game, and if he did, he didn't say anything about it, because I continued to quickly braid the pretty strings at age 18, while sitting across from my potential father in law to be, King Octavio of Orthero.
I knew right away I would not like this man. From the moment he walked in, with his arrogant strut and sly grin, his colours shone through. He was a loud man, a proud man, and most importantly, an annoying man. I doubt he even ever had to breath, because just listening to him talk the way he did made me lightheaded. The words were quick, short and little pause between them.
He mentioned his son a few times, most of those times he only said how his son would think I'm perfect. Not once did he so much as mention his son's name, and even if he did, I doubt I'd remember. I was never one to remember names.
"So, my fair princess Arazelle," Octavio finally said, for the first time giving me a chance to speak, "what do you think of the arrangement?"
Arrangement; not an engagement if love and romance and pure emotion, but an arrangement, a political ploy set in place by that stupid, unfaithful hag poor Annemarie is forced to call a mother.
I turned to both my sisters, who sat on either side of me. I was helpless. They didn't seem to know what to say, and neither did I. I gripped on to my braids and began to pleat faster, hoping it would calm my nerves. It didn't. "I-I-I've yet to give it much though m'lord." judging by the glare the king gave me, I could only assume that 'm'lord' was not the proper term to describe the man King Octavio thought he was.
"She's only 18, Your Majesty." Apryl muttered, a slight hint of sarcasm in her voice when she said the words 'Your Majesty." Though the king didn't pick up on it, I certainly did, and agreed wholeheartedly. There was nothing majestic about this fat, balding excuse for a man.
"My first wife was years her junior when we married. Princess Anabelle should have had marriage on her mind years ago."
"Arazelle." I corrected meekly.
"Pardon?" He asked with a harshness that sent shivers down my spine. The king seemed completely apalled that a princess would speak back to him without being spoken to.
"My name is Arazelle, not Anabelle." I mumbled, my voice weak and quivering. I wished I could be brave and strong like Apryl, because if I were, Octavio wouldn't be able to bend and break me like I knew he would once the arrangement was offical.
I tied a knot at the end of my braid and l felt around under the table until I found each of my sisters' hands. I held on tightly and made sure that even if they wanted to let go, though couldn't. I knew I was probably hurting them, but they didn't flinch or show any signs of pain, so I held on.
Octavio took one glance at the nervous expression on my face and smirked with joy. He stood up and walked over to a tall pasty woman that worked for my stepmother. Though I could see their mouths were moving, I couldn't make out the words.
"What do you think they're saying?" Annemarie asked, as she and Apryl leaned in closer to me.
"Can't tell," I mumbled, "Ryl, can you?"
She shook her head. "They're too quiet and too fast. I can't make out anything."
My sisters and I waited in agonizing silence for even a few words clear enough to hear. Finally, Octavio began to speak a little louder, yet The Evil's attendant was still o
Too quiet. "We'll take her, Anabeth or Alison or Zelda... What was her name? Little blonde with the big eyes?... Arazelle... I'll never remember that, but it doesn't matter... Yes, I realize she is a bit disrespectful talking back that way, but she's weak, she'll break and snap easily, just like my most recent wife. Don't worry. Have your queen make arrangements for my son and I to come within the next two weeks. The wedding will be at the end of the summer."
I gasped in horror. Did I get no choice in my own marriage? Tears began to pour down my face, but before I could protest, Octavio was gone, and my fate was sealed forever.