A Stifled Flame

[Axelu 4333]

A STIFLED FLAME

[!] The Duchess of Alba, circa 1727

 

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“Your mother and sister have gone now, my beautiful Julia. Do not let that stifle your flame.”

 

 

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She had recollected her father’s coos of reassurance. He had promised her he’d stay alongside her, yet he too, had made himself scarce. 

 

The youth would have grown since then, her tresses longer and her frame gawky as she steadily traipsed toward adolescence. If one were to put her alongside her mother, Vivienne, they would note a remarkable resemblance betwixt the two. 

 

She lowered her grey glance, letting it sweep dully over the cerulean waters bordering Helena as she’d stand on her railed balcony. 

 

A dragon without her flame; without resolve; without ferocity.

 

What am I, then, she thought. 

 

She did not wield her siblings’s redeeming qualities: Adeline’s unwavering ardor and regality, nor Charles and Henry’s stately prowess.

 

Her grip upon the railing tightened.

 

Who am I?

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

YOU ARE WEAK

 

The child sharply pivoted to face her chambers, startled, yet found herself staring directly at her own reflection; it was immaculately polished, not an idle stain in sight.

 

She found herself enthralled, meandering toward it with a jutted index finger. It curled, hesitant to breach the depiction of herself, as if doing so would distort it.

 

The finger begrudgingly straightens, finally meeting its likeness.

 

With abruptness, the child untethered from her reverie, an inner tempest stirring in its wake.

 

“I am not weak!” She shrilly contested, palms rapping against her temples as her knees met the glossy flooring brutely. 

 

Heavy exhalations escaped the youth, wrathful sobs and bellows following shortly thereafter.

 

A retinue of maids rushed into the princess’s quarters, distraught to find her gaunt composition stirring upon the floor. They moved to grasp at her, and restrain the frenzied jerks of her body.

 

The child was unappeased, countenance flushed with a wanton carmine hue  as the tumult ensued.

 

“Your Highness, please,” A younger handmaiden pleaded, her plump hands palpitating fretfully.

 

After a few painful moments, the child stilled, perpetuating her frigid, glossy glare unto the woman -- then spitting at her face.

 

“Bring Adeline here. I wish to see her.”

 

 

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[SwaK 41]

God Bless Lorraine

[LithiumSedai 5750]

The young Prince of Alstion, Charles Edward, vowed to set aside some of his precious time to aid his sister in overcoming her troubles, though unaware of the event. Weakness was a trait of lesser men, he thought. And unwavering resolve and purpose, that of a Dragon.

[osumanduas 1442]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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