"Existing is free, but living comes at a price. Thriving, however, is a privilege."
It's something that, as a child, my mother would often repeat to me. I always found it strange how she'd think I didn't understand. We'd already existed for free, and we lived in the shadows of other people, in a cottage far off the edge of the main streets.
It wasn't anything special. Cottage was an overstatement of what it was. It was mostly a shack put together with whatever resources we could find—scraps of tree wood, metal, twigs and more.
However, we thrived and were thankful for that privilege every day. We'd spend hours in the surroundings of the forest. Picking berries till dusk, and catching fish at dawn. I enjoyed our quiet life. But of course, living comes at a price.
The morning bell rang eight times. 8 am. It was time to wake up to my no-longer-peaceful and quiet life. I force myself out of bed and walk over to my closet.
The bed covers dragged on the floor as I cradled against it for warmth. I felt the knots and tangles in my hair without even looking. That's what happens when I forget to braid my hair before bed.
Still in my night gown, I grabbed the nearest hairbrush and began to untangle my madness of hair.
Each stroke reminded me of who I was. What I was. I could laugh, speak, sing, dance, and enjoy my life as a normal person, but I would never truly be one. In the end, I would be the same monster I was presumed to be.
This hair was proof, and only raised their suspicions about me. It took me a while, but once I finished brushing it, I began to braid. Braiding hair became a second nature to me after all these years. Especially when I'm the only staff member in the orphanage who can braid hair.
I quickly buttoned up my shirt and slipped into my ankle-length skirt. I grabbed the apron from the shelf and tied it around my waist. Once dressed in my uniform, I head out the door. The halls were already bustling with girls running back and forth with laundry, bed sheets, brooms and who knows what.
The hallway creaks as I make my way down. I could feel the judgmental stares of everyone. I wouldn't blame them, I always was the one who woke up the latest.
I came down to see the piles of mud and dirt all over the halls. In a huff, I grabbed a nearby broom from behind a door.
Sweeping up the mess of dirt the children tracked in. I constantly pushed back my loose strands of black hair, but they wouldn't stay back. I huffed in annoyance and set the broom down. The rupture of cheers and giggles forced me to take a deep breath. Rose was the first one to come down. Her curly red hair fell right to her hips.
"Viv! Can you braid my hair again? Please!"
I chuckled. Her eyes shone so brightly, how could I refuse?
"Of course, Rose, but did you finish breakfast yet?"
She chuckled shyly, rubbing the back of her head and tucking her leg behind another. She obviously hadn't. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I was about to speak, but Meredith came running in.
"Rose, come back here and finish eating your porridge!"
Her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a messy bun, but strands of her hair were loose from chasing the children around all day. She was visibly exhausted and put a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.
Rose immediately ran behind me, gripping the sides of my skirt. She bit her bottom lip. I could see the bits of oatmeal in her hair from the porridge. She most likely wanted me to braid her hair to keep it out of her food. I leaned down in front of her, picking the pieces of oatmeal out.
Meredith shot me a glare, which wasn't new to me. I was the oldest working caretaker there. I'd been working here since I was 15. There were kids who were older than I attending the orphanage.
The headmistress, however, is 56 and she runs the place. She's only been on the job for 5 years, yet because of her age, she takes the higher standing. It's unfair, honestly. I've been working here for 9 years, yet it still seems as if I'm at the lowest part of the food chain.
"Vivian, I'd appreciate it if you would let me do my job."
Her words were bittersweet, she barely put any effort into sugar coating her voice to hide her intentions. I wasn't stupid, but I was obedient. That's why I got hired in the first place.
"Rose had pieces of oatmeal in her hair; clearly, it keeps getting in the way of her eating. I'm simply tying it back."
Short, sweet, and direct. All three points in politely responding to anyone here. It was important to keep conversations short. Too long and things start to slip out. Unwanted things.
Meredith scoffed in offence and waved her hand. She couldn't care less about these kids. It was strange, they were like her. Human, and yet I care more about them than she ever could. Me. A witch.
"Fine, just send her back when you're done."
She turned back and walked towards the dining hall where all of the other children were. I hear Rose sigh. I had completely forgotten her existence. Her small hands still clenched the fabric of my skirt. I gently turned around to caress the top of her head. Short, sweet, and direct.
"She's gone, Rose, shall I braid your hair now?"
Her eyes glimmered against the peaks of sun light coming through the curtains. It reminded me of how she was still just a child. A brightly colored world reflected in her eyes, and she had not a single care in the world.
I quickly kneaded my way through Rose's hair, untangling, braiding, and picking out oatmeal pieces all at once. Once I was finished, she looked like a young farmer girl ready to plow fields of wheat and hay.
She quickly ran back upstairs to the dining hall where she would meet with the rest of the girls.
At the top of the stairs she turned around and gave me a wide grin. I could see the gaps in her teeth from her missing teeth.
I smiled back softly. The innocence of a child should always be cherished.
I continued sweeping up the mess of mud most of the children left behind.
I've learned to drown out unnecessary comments and information. It was necessary to keep a low profile in this society.
If you knew nothing, you could be accused of nothing. In this society, being oblivious is better than being knowledgeable.
Men would always be keen on finding the smallest strange thing about a woman. Her gossiping, the color of her hair, even her tone of voice.
The smallest things could be used to accuse her of being a witch.
Whether she was or not, she would be set a flame. These past months alone we've had six witch trials, all meeting the same fate. All those innocent lives wasted away at the hands of greedy men.
Although most information is drowned out, some is too important to not listen to.
"Did you hear!? There's a rumor going around saying that his royal highness is coming to
town!"
"No way really? I thought he was away for war?"
"Oh my goodness I need to get properly washed up!"
"Maybe if I'm lucky enough he'll take me as a mistress!"
My sweat went cold. There were two princes in the empire. Both of them are as bad as the other, however only one is set to be first in line to the throne. Prince Killian Cristiano. Unlike his brother Zander, Killian is said to be much more mature and rigorous.
He is said to be bold but cold. Brave like a fire burning in the coldest winter nights of the year.
I definitely don't want to be around when either one of them show up… If either one of them shows up. I had to lay low.
I quickly finish up my chores for the morning and head outside. To my safe space. A large willow tree just on the outskirts of the building.
It wasn't anything special, really. It was plain, simple, yet it felt like the only piece of home I had. The tree was old, very old. Its branches extend past the fence, casting large shadows over the hills. It was my favorite place.
Most people never came here; they said trees that look like this are cursed and bring bad luck. I for one know that's not true. They say the same about my kind, yet here I am. I placed myself beneath the core of the tree.
My hands dig into the dirt, connecting with my environment.
I can hear the birds chirping above me, the flowers swaying in the gentle breeze, the faint laughter of children off in the distance, the swaying of the tree vines, and the rustling of the tree branches… rustling in the tree branches?
I look up to see a specific tree branch high above shaking violently. That's definitely not normal. Could it be a street beggar trying to salvage any food?
It starts shaking faster, until.
Snap.
The branch breaks and I hear a surprised yelp come out from above as a figure comes crashing down, swinging their legs on the last branch to hang upside down, in front of me.
"Jesus Christ, my head… This tree isn't stable at all!"
That thick accent made me shiver. This wasn't just some beggar on the streets trying to sneak in for food. Perhaps, a noble?
He rubbed his eyes, his hair was a mess. A soft blond color, now covered in twigs and leafs.
That's when I saw them. He opened his eyes, to reveal an undeniable compelling pair of blue jeweled eyes. A signature bearing of the Royal family. He was not a street beggar, nor was he a simple noble.
This was Prince Killian Cristiano. The soon to be crown prince of the empire, and he just happened to fall from a tree right in front of me. So much for laying low.