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Dirty blonde curls bouncing along with her skips, the hem of her dress long tattered and matted in dirt from playing outdoors, Elena hummed softly to herself, the pleas of her lady in waiting falling on deaf ears. Most days she would heed every word of her attendant so as to be polite and not risk the older woman’s frustration—she adores her too much for that—and Elena knows the lady has her best interest in mind, and it most certainly does not hurt to be on the safe side of things, but she has already decided that today was not like “most days.”
Today was a very special day for her. This was the only day of the year where she was allowed to do whatever she wanted without risking punishment from her governess who, to her pleasant surprise, had simply lounged in the study and explicitly gave her permission to, well, do whatever she wanted and be free. Free from the clutches of numbers and words much too big for her feeble brain to process. Free from the itchy ornaments that usually adorned her head and kept her hair in place, which very much felt like they were going to snatch her tender scalp off her skull sometime soon. Free from anything that keeps her from having fun, really.
The first thing that she had done upon waking up was to go her mother’s chambers to receive a shower of affection, but when she had burst into the doors much too energetically for a lazy morning, the handmaids had gently reprimanded her and gestured her to keep quiet before nodding their head in the direction of her mother who was sitting upright in bed. At first, Elena did not realize what the whole ordeal was about, especially since she does it most of the time anyway and Sera never seemed to mind; in fact, she would welcome her into her arms with a bright smile that can light up the whole castle, greeting her a good morning, so what was the issue now? A soft gurgling sound had caught her attention, and that was when she noticed that Sera was cradling a bundle of cloth in her arms against her bosom. Nursing, she heard the handmaidens told her, but she has no clue what they were talking about.
Her little sister was asleep, she realizes, her face heating up in shame. It has been a little over a year since little Dani came into the world but Elena just couldn't find it in herself to adjust to the changes. Sera's time and energy were not unlike the sand of an hourglass, stuck in an infinite loop of going back and forth between one thing and another--in this case, Dani was both the glasses. Was it selfish of her to hoard all the love? What kind of sister was she? Elena had worried her lips and shifted awkwardly by the door, and as if hearing her mind, Sera had finally taken notice of her and gave her the biggest smile yet as she reached an inviting hand towards her daughter. Elena wasted no time and she was in Sera’s arms in a blink of an eye, peering down curiously at Dani. Her mother had greeted her a happy birthday with a kiss on the crown of her head, and everything was perfect.
Elena had spent a good portion of the morning in Sera’s chambers, playing with her baby sister. She remembers thinking how weird babes look. They look like monkeys; thus, she had told her mother as such, and Sera had merely chuckled and told her that Elena herself had looked like that once upon a time. Elena had never felt more offended. Agathe had soon joined them.
After a few hours of playing outside, Elena had excused herself to go to her governess next. The woman was strict and intimidating, but Elena loved her all the same, especially when the former had acquiesced to her peculiar request. She had barely passed the age of a toddler and hand stitching will not be a part of her curricula until five years later, but Elena insisted on learning last week, saying that she needed to finish her “masterpiece” now—today, specifically. And learned she did, but not without consequence. For the most part, she was merely poking around with the needle as she tries to do exactly what her governess was doing, but she lacked the dexterity needed to make it look decent; however, she did a great job at making the pads of her fingers her personal pincushion. By the time they finished, her fingers were haphazardly wrapped in bandages, but she did not mind. She had beamed down at her handiwork, kissed the governess thank you, and skipped out, bringing her to the present.
Amidst the coolness that ricochets off the concrete in the hallway, a particularly hot breeze kisses and grazes her skin foretelling the dawn of a hot summer in June, and the young girl welcomed it with open arms, quite literally as she stretched them on either side and twirled on the tip of her toes. Father would surely love I made for him, she thought jovially to herself, clutching the handkerchief against her chest as she sighted the familiar entrance to Pavlos’ chambers, where two handmaidens stood. Much like what she had done earlier, she practically ran up to the doorway and promptly burst into the doors despite the handmaidens’ protests.
“Papa, look! I made—,“ she trails off, stiffening on the spot upon seeing that her father was, for the lack of better words, occupied, which in itself was not a weird occurrence. Elena has long accepted the fact that Pavlos was a busy man with important things to do—she had disturbed him in his study more times than she would care to remember, and she would be instructed to leave—and it is the reason why she made her little present in the first place, to give him something that will remind him of her even when she was out of his sight so he will be reminded of her love. During those times, however, he would be alone with his mind and the books. This time, he was with a woman.
A nameless lady in disheveled clothing with equally disheveled hair—who was decidedly not her mother.
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Dirty blonde curls bouncing along with her skips, the hem of her dress long tattered and matted in dirt from playing outdoors, Elena hummed softly to herself, the pleas of her lady in waiting falling on deaf ears. Most days she would heed every word of her attendant so as to be polite and not risk the older woman’s frustration—she adores her too much for that—and Elena knows the lady has her best interest in mind, and it most certainly does not hurt to be on the safe side of things, but she has already decided that today was not like “most days.”
Today was a very special day for her. This was the only day of the year where she was allowed to do whatever she wanted without risking punishment from her governess who, to her pleasant surprise, had simply lounged in the study and explicitly gave her permission to, well, do whatever she wanted and be free. Free from the clutches of numbers and words much too big for her feeble brain to process. Free from the itchy ornaments that usually adorned her head and kept her hair in place, which very much felt like they were going to snatch her tender scalp off her skull sometime soon. Free from anything that keeps her from having fun, really.
The first thing that she had done upon waking up was to go her mother’s chambers to receive a shower of affection, but when she had burst into the doors much too energetically for a lazy morning, the handmaids had gently reprimanded her and gestured her to keep quiet before nodding their head in the direction of her mother who was sitting upright in bed. At first, Elena did not realize what the whole ordeal was about, especially since she does it most of the time anyway and Sera never seemed to mind; in fact, she would welcome her into her arms with a bright smile that can light up the whole castle, greeting her a good morning, so what was the issue now? A soft gurgling sound had caught her attention, and that was when she noticed that Sera was cradling a bundle of cloth in her arms against her bosom. Nursing, she heard the handmaidens told her, but she has no clue what they were talking about.
Her little sister was asleep, she realizes, her face heating up in shame. It has been a little over a year since little Dani came into the world but Elena just couldn't find it in herself to adjust to the changes. Sera's time and energy were not unlike the sand of an hourglass, stuck in an infinite loop of going back and forth between one thing and another--in this case, Dani was both the glasses. Was it selfish of her to hoard all the love? What kind of sister was she? Elena had worried her lips and shifted awkwardly by the door, and as if hearing her mind, Sera had finally taken notice of her and gave her the biggest smile yet as she reached an inviting hand towards her daughter. Elena wasted no time and she was in Sera’s arms in a blink of an eye, peering down curiously at Dani. Her mother had greeted her a happy birthday with a kiss on the crown of her head, and everything was perfect.
Elena had spent a good portion of the morning in Sera’s chambers, playing with her baby sister. She remembers thinking how weird babes look. They look like monkeys; thus, she had told her mother as such, and Sera had merely chuckled and told her that Elena herself had looked like that once upon a time. Elena had never felt more offended. Agathe had soon joined them.
After a few hours of playing outside, Elena had excused herself to go to her governess next. The woman was strict and intimidating, but Elena loved her all the same, especially when the former had acquiesced to her peculiar request. She had barely passed the age of a toddler and hand stitching will not be a part of her curricula until five years later, but Elena insisted on learning last week, saying that she needed to finish her “masterpiece” now—today, specifically. And learned she did, but not without consequence. For the most part, she was merely poking around with the needle as she tries to do exactly what her governess was doing, but she lacked the dexterity needed to make it look decent; however, she did a great job at making the pads of her fingers her personal pincushion. By the time they finished, her fingers were haphazardly wrapped in bandages, but she did not mind. She had beamed down at her handiwork, kissed the governess thank you, and skipped out, bringing her to the present.
Amidst the coolness that ricochets off the concrete in the hallway, a particularly hot breeze kisses and grazes her skin foretelling the dawn of a hot summer in June, and the young girl welcomed it with open arms, quite literally as she stretched them on either side and twirled on the tip of her toes. Father would surely love I made for him, she thought jovially to herself, clutching the handkerchief against her chest as she sighted the familiar entrance to Pavlos’ chambers, where two handmaidens stood. Much like what she had done earlier, she practically ran up to the doorway and promptly burst into the doors despite the handmaidens’ protests.
“Papa, look! I made—,“ she trails off, stiffening on the spot upon seeing that her father was, for the lack of better words, occupied, which in itself was not a weird occurrence. Elena has long accepted the fact that Pavlos was a busy man with important things to do—she had disturbed him in his study more times than she would care to remember, and she would be instructed to leave—and it is the reason why she made her little present in the first place, to give him something that will remind him of her even when she was out of his sight so he will be reminded of her love. During those times, however, he would be alone with his mind and the books. This time, he was with a woman.
A nameless lady in disheveled clothing with equally disheveled hair—who was decidedly not her mother.
Dirty blonde curls bouncing along with her skips, the hem of her dress long tattered and matted in dirt from playing outdoors, Elena hummed softly to herself, the pleas of her lady in waiting falling on deaf ears. Most days she would heed every word of her attendant so as to be polite and not risk the older woman’s frustration—she adores her too much for that—and Elena knows the lady has her best interest in mind, and it most certainly does not hurt to be on the safe side of things, but she has already decided that today was not like “most days.”
Today was a very special day for her. This was the only day of the year where she was allowed to do whatever she wanted without risking punishment from her governess who, to her pleasant surprise, had simply lounged in the study and explicitly gave her permission to, well, do whatever she wanted and be free. Free from the clutches of numbers and words much too big for her feeble brain to process. Free from the itchy ornaments that usually adorned her head and kept her hair in place, which very much felt like they were going to snatch her tender scalp off her skull sometime soon. Free from anything that keeps her from having fun, really.
The first thing that she had done upon waking up was to go her mother’s chambers to receive a shower of affection, but when she had burst into the doors much too energetically for a lazy morning, the handmaids had gently reprimanded her and gestured her to keep quiet before nodding their head in the direction of her mother who was sitting upright in bed. At first, Elena did not realize what the whole ordeal was about, especially since she does it most of the time anyway and Sera never seemed to mind; in fact, she would welcome her into her arms with a bright smile that can light up the whole castle, greeting her a good morning, so what was the issue now? A soft gurgling sound had caught her attention, and that was when she noticed that Sera was cradling a bundle of cloth in her arms against her bosom. Nursing, she heard the handmaidens told her, but she has no clue what they were talking about.
Her little sister was asleep, she realizes, her face heating up in shame. It has been a little over a year since little Dani came into the world but Elena just couldn't find it in herself to adjust to the changes. Sera's time and energy were not unlike the sand of an hourglass, stuck in an infinite loop of going back and forth between one thing and another--in this case, Dani was both the glasses. Was it selfish of her to hoard all the love? What kind of sister was she? Elena had worried her lips and shifted awkwardly by the door, and as if hearing her mind, Sera had finally taken notice of her and gave her the biggest smile yet as she reached an inviting hand towards her daughter. Elena wasted no time and she was in Sera’s arms in a blink of an eye, peering down curiously at Dani. Her mother had greeted her a happy birthday with a kiss on the crown of her head, and everything was perfect.
Elena had spent a good portion of the morning in Sera’s chambers, playing with her baby sister. She remembers thinking how weird babes look. They look like monkeys; thus, she had told her mother as such, and Sera had merely chuckled and told her that Elena herself had looked like that once upon a time. Elena had never felt more offended. Agathe had soon joined them.
After a few hours of playing outside, Elena had excused herself to go to her governess next. The woman was strict and intimidating, but Elena loved her all the same, especially when the former had acquiesced to her peculiar request. She had barely passed the age of a toddler and hand stitching will not be a part of her curricula until five years later, but Elena insisted on learning last week, saying that she needed to finish her “masterpiece” now—today, specifically. And learned she did, but not without consequence. For the most part, she was merely poking around with the needle as she tries to do exactly what her governess was doing, but she lacked the dexterity needed to make it look decent; however, she did a great job at making the pads of her fingers her personal pincushion. By the time they finished, her fingers were haphazardly wrapped in bandages, but she did not mind. She had beamed down at her handiwork, kissed the governess thank you, and skipped out, bringing her to the present.
Amidst the coolness that ricochets off the concrete in the hallway, a particularly hot breeze kisses and grazes her skin foretelling the dawn of a hot summer in June, and the young girl welcomed it with open arms, quite literally as she stretched them on either side and twirled on the tip of her toes. Father would surely love I made for him, she thought jovially to herself, clutching the handkerchief against her chest as she sighted the familiar entrance to Pavlos’ chambers, where two handmaidens stood. Much like what she had done earlier, she practically ran up to the doorway and promptly burst into the doors despite the handmaidens’ protests.
“Papa, look! I made—,“ she trails off, stiffening on the spot upon seeing that her father was, for the lack of better words, occupied, which in itself was not a weird occurrence. Elena has long accepted the fact that Pavlos was a busy man with important things to do—she had disturbed him in his study more times than she would care to remember, and she would be instructed to leave—and it is the reason why she made her little present in the first place, to give him something that will remind him of her even when she was out of his sight so he will be reminded of her love. During those times, however, he would be alone with his mind and the books. This time, he was with a woman.
A nameless lady in disheveled clothing with equally disheveled hair—who was decidedly not her mother.
