Waltzing Back

The next morning arrived earlier than Ophelia would have desired. She sat up with a dull headache wearing at her head and again, her perspire was rather visible. The gown she wore was clinging to her body as if her life depended immensely on it and the dirt from the ground she slept on dusted her in a thin layer. As she rubbed her hands together to cease the debris’ unhealthy glow to her skin, she felt her heart fall asunder. Ophelia was very displeased to be covered in grime. It made her feel like an abomination to this world, even though she was always adorned in that way. Perhaps it was just the simplistic fact that she was now present in much higher classes’ interpretation so suddenly.

Allowing her lips to sink into a pitiful pout, Ophelia gathered her wits to take a brief examination of her surroundings. Like in her sleeping shed at her lord’s estate, she was one of the many deprived and exhausted people resting at an abandoned corner of the city they all had inhabited. If she were to lie down again, her shoulders would be galling against 2 others’ shoulders.

Ophelia’s face mustered into a discerning sneer and she quickly gathered her skirts in hand so that she could stand and escape what she had not wanted. She felt she deserved a more worthy lifestyle, as she stalked one of the unfortunate people lying with a painful look on his face as he slept. The man twitched and bellowed out a pungent cough before fluttering his small, wrinkled eyes to the young girl, Ophelia, who stood over him.

Allowing her robust curiosity to take lead, she lifted her hand slowly and waved it slightly at the man to inspect his reaction. The man blinked his eyes, looking quite flabbergasted, though nodded his head at the young lady. He turned on his side, still lying down, and kept his back at Ophelia, who then smiled.



“Dominic, darling, what are your plans of today?” asked a very smooth, potent woman’s voice. She applied her suede gloves to her feeble hands.

“Well,” he began in a monotone voice. “I will be attending an art display, mind you. Have you any duties this evening, dear?”

The woman, dressed in a Spanish Farthingale inspired dress, turned to her fiancé with a sarcastic smile. “Oh, but of course I have somewhere to be. I am wanted nearly everywhere conspired of the royalty I have from your family.”

The man, Dominic, averted his steel gaze to a vase occupying a corner of the room. “Very well, Cordelia.”



Traveling the patently busy streets, Ophelia felt her stomach convulse slightly. It was enough to make her stop walking and place her hands on her abdomen. Others trying to get by rudely made remarks at the young girl feeling her first taste of hunger. The last artifact of food she had devoured was the stale bread fed to all serfs if there ever was enough.

The young lady then landed her “hollow” eyes at a man dressed in royalty, accepting a fine piece of what looked like cheese from a man with a tray full of the food. Her stomach growled this time, which for a moment she did not acknowledge seeming as she was fully diverted to the handsome man taking small bites of the food, cherishing the salty flavor.

When the man finished eating the nourishment, he nodded greatly to the merchant, who reciprocated by doing the same, and then entered the building to his right. Ophelia felt her curiosity pick up again to an outstanding level. The fingers of her hands began twiddling with an idea spawning inside of her head. If she could sneak into the building and befriend the charming man, perhaps she would be privileged enough to have a piece of that sustenance he was savoring ever so greatly.

With an anxious sigh escaping Ophelia’s lips, she took a step in the direction of the building that the wealthy man had entered just moments ago. She made sure to linger in the big crowds even if she were to receive the most daunting of looks from the populous.

Finally reaching the doorway of the building with the merchant not even caring to share a glance at Ophelia, she slipped into a room with paintings adoring the walls. A dreamy sigh couldn't help but to escape her lips as the painting all stared at her. They were marvelous, she then thought, taking a step to a carved piece of wood with extraordinary detail.

Having heard a human approach somewhere elsewhere in the room, Dominic turned with a gleam of wonder burning profusely in his eyes. Reflecting off of his blue irises was a girl dressed in a ratty gown, fiddling with her fingers as if not knowing how to react to such a display in front of her. Seeming not to bother with his peculiarity, he turned back to the painting hanging before him.

"Oh, that painting is cursed by putrid yellows, I say. I wouldn't recommend buying that." said a young woman's voice. Dominic's posture hardly reacted to the shock that overwhelmed him so suddenly.

"Who are you to say what and what not I shall buy?" he responded with a rich accent.

"I am not the most powerful person in the world, but a young lady learning about life. My name is Ophelia Lovell-- a former serf of my antecedent Highness of Oxford."

Dominic's jaw twitched rather noticeably as his eyes were to bulge scarcely. Ophelia then, for a moment, felt subconscious of her body, for she was dressed inappropriately to his standards. As a distraction to her pitiful thoughts, she tried moving her lips into a small smile wishing it to have been encouraging to the royal man who stood stiffly present to her.

"A former serf, you say?" Dominic cleared his throat. "How curious it is to find the likes of your kind here..." His arm made a gesture to the art surrounding them.

"I came a long way, sir, to examine the ways of life. I apologize immensely for my intruding of your thoughts, but I figured my first step was to make a communication of some sort. Heed my word of the painting, will you not?"

"Well, such an efficient accusation has bound to my approval. I will proceed to gather the wits of the other displayals."

Feeling successful, Ophelia showed a genuine smile to the man. Her mind, however, was still weighing on how he had not lectured her of not bowing before him, or how he had not beckoned for help of guards. She would have imagined him to become the damsel of distress to his own fit, but instead he was rather accepting of the likes of her.

Before taking a stance to another canvas, Dominic allowed his eyes to infringe into the jubilation sparking deep within Ophelia's eyes. He had never thought a girl dressed terribly to be attractive to any extent, but this young woman was quite breathtaking. She was courageous enough to present herself without faltering before his Highness. He was always respected, but today that fact had crumbled.

He enjoyed the way her brown locks curled slightly above her breasts, though layered in dirt, and that she had a unique aurora to her. Unlike his fiancé, who had pin-straight blonde hair and a repelling attitude intaking her soul, Ophelia was not someone he disliked to be around, hence their introduction just moments ago.

So he then swallowed and announced, "I would rather be pleased if you would accompany me to a play tomorrow evening. It would not only be an act of kindness and dedication of your loyalty to me, Prince Howard of England, but I moderately believe it will enhance your experience of life."

Ophelia gasped sharply, and succumbed deeply into the shock that raveled up her spine.

"If you would please answer me, I would be grateful..." Dominic declared impatiently.

The young lady brought a hand to her head, and leered at the handsome man again for a moment. Her mouth was beginning to open-and-close frequently. She hadn't thought her plan to be achieved so quickly.

"I-I accept your proposal, my Lord."

"Then I shall find you here at this very building at tomorrow evening," He looked her up-and-down. "and I recommend you eat the fine pieces of cheese awaiting of the merchant just outside. I believe the cheese to be Brie."

With his knowledge spoken so clearly of, he turned with a swish of his cape and pointed to a painting hung at the entrance as his eyes were set on an assistant who was hidden by the eyes of Ophelia. The assistance scurried out from behind a doorway and retrieved the painting, paying no mind to the young lady that was still stunned.

"I have a date," Ophelia whispered.