Re: Wings

The princess leaned against the railing of her balcony, overlooking the east side of the city. As she observed the slowly dying lights as the people went to bed, she absent-mindedly fingered the simple necklace she wore around her neck, adorned with a single word: "Arianna." A gentle breeze was blowing, the lip of her nightdress delicately flicking around her ankles, the toes of her bare feet pushing her up just a little bit higher to try and see just a little bit further into the distant horizon.

She had not had a great deal of freedom as of late. It was understandable, of course. She had no disillusions about what it meant to be a princess - she was to do as she was told, be where she was meant to be, and speak politely only when spoken to. But as the tournament was being held, she had even less freedom than usual. Foreign knights would love nothing more than to take her away as a prize - or so she was told - and so she must restrict her movements so as to minimize potential interactions with them.

But staying in her room all the time was so boring. She let a sigh escape her lips as she slumped over the railing. Below, in the little light that remained, she could see a few children rushing home before it was too dark for them to see the path in front of them. She had often been told how fortunate she was not to be a trouble causer like those rascals, but she could not help but look upon them with envy. To be able to move about as they pleased, to do the wrong things and face the consequences for them, and be able to learn without being told to. That was a life she could only dream of. She could not spread her wings and learn to fly as they did. Her wings had been clipped so that she might not act out of turn.

Her attention was torn away from the city as she heard the pounding of feet racing towards her door. She turned around to see one of the servants pushing her door open in a blind panic, then quickly turn and slam the door shut, locking it before pushing a chair in front of it to lodge it in place.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

The servant leaped in fear, turning to see the voice that had called out to him. "Princess Arianna!" he exclaimed, then quickly covered his mouth. His eyes were filled with an agonizing terror the likes of which Arianna had never witnessed. He rushed to her, pushing her out on to the balcony and closing the twin glass doors behind them.

"Princess Arianna," he whispered, "there's no time. Something has gone terribly wrong. Your father has instructed me to make sure that, by whatever means necessary, you are not taken."

The statement filled Arianna's mind with a dizzying confusion. She had so many questions. What had happened? Why was father so insistent on her protection? Taken by who? Her mouth, however, would not move. Her body had betrayed her as she was overcome with a freezing panic. Whatever had gone wrong was very, very wrong. More so than anything she had ever experienced before. That much was clear.

"Please, your highness," the servant continued, "you must get out of here. You have to escape, before it is too late. The fate of the kingdom itself may depend on it."

"B-but..." the words were barely able to escape her mouth. "But father forbid..."

"All previous orders are hereby rescinded," the servant insisted. "Please, you must-"

He was cut off by a thunderous pounding that came from Arianna's door. No human being could have hit the door that hard. One pound, two, three... The door exploded inward, wooden shards flying about the room as the two of them watched from the outside. The shards shredded curtains and blankets, stabbed into anything soft, and knocked over various pieces of furniture and personal belongings. Arianna's mind went numb as she watched it happen, all centering on the hulking mass that had broken the door down.

A single man walked into the room. His eyes were cold, glaring directly at Arianna through the glass, his face flat and emotionless. He was massive, easily a head taller than her father, his shoulders almost too broad to fit through the doorway. Slowly he raised his arm, pointing a single finger in her direction. She could feel the blood leaving her face.

She tried to back away from him as he approached the glass doors, but was stopped by the railing she had been looking out over only moments before. She had nowhere to go. As the mysterious man reached the door, he placed his hand on the glass, and with a single push, it shattered. A scream ripped from Arianna's voice as she stepped backwards, railing be damned, and the force of the man's push on the glass shook her soul. But it shook the railing as well. As she stepped, the railing gave way, and together they fell to the moat, hundreds of feet below.

The man was too slow to catch her as she fell. He picked up the servant instead, lifting him by the collar, and stared into his eyes. They stood in silence for a moment, until the sound of the splash reached their ears.

"That better not have been the princess," the man's rough voice whispered, threat clear in his inflection.

"It was," the servant responded, accepting his fate. "And you'll never have her now."

Below, the railing sunk to the bottom of the moat, pushing the princess' dress down with it. Above, a bluejay flapped its wings frantically, flying away from the castle as fast as possible, desiring to be anywhere. Anywhere but there.