Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

I wake to the sunlight on my eyelids. I blink and roll over. There by my bed, over the back of the chair, is the prince's coat. I fling my feet over the edge of the bed. The few feet between the chair and the bed are torture. I grasp his coat and hold it close. I breathe in the scent of Gregory.

I can still smell him as he leaned over to kiss me last night. I can recall clearly how his lips felt on mine.

But then my world comes crashing around me. Tonight is my last night with him. I gasp for air, as I panic. The last time I get to see him, to hold him. This is my last chance to be someone important to him. Because I know even if he loves me, a simple commoner, abandoned by her father, will be refused. I will never have him.

With this realization, I wonder why I have been doing all this. Knowing I could never be his, that he would never be mine, why did I go every night? I had only made our inevitable parting of ways harder. My heart was breaking, shattering into an innumerable number of shards. I had been so stupid to let myself grow so attached.

By sunset, my eyes are swollen from hours of tears. I found my tears spent around noon. I wander out to my mother's grave.

"Cindy."

I look to see my mother, perfect as always, standing by the fountain. I cannot help it. My eyes are sad, and I find my tears are not all together spent as they begin to trickle down my cheeks.

"What's wrong, sweety?" she asks as she envelops me in a hug, heedless of my ballgown.

"I'll lose him tonight," I whisper as I bury my head into her shoulder. "I'll-I'll never get to see him again."

"How do you know that for certain?" she asks, stroking my head.

"Why would he want a commoner like me?"

"And what exactly is common about you, Cindy?" She stands back from me. "I see nothing common. I see an uncommonly beautiful face with eyes the color of the night sky, sparkling with heaven's own stars. I see a sculpture, a goddess, mortal and breathing before me. I see a strong, independent girl who stood up to her stepmother."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now get going before that prince goes crazy wondering where you've disappeared to."

Despite my emotional moment in the garden, I arrive only fifteen minutes after eight.

"You're here." Gregory rushes up to me with a smile. "I'd like to introduce you to my parents."

"I-I-I really can't," I protest as he leads me toward the dais. Then I am there, before the king and queen. The queen has a soft, warm face, much like my mother's. I feel at home at once. The king's face is jolly and open. His auburn hair cinches the humorous look in his eyes.

"Your majesties," I whisper, lowering my gaze as I drop a curtsy.

"So you are the lady who has stolen away our son from the festivities the past two nights," the queen says warmly as I rise. "I can see why. You are indeed lovely."

"I hope we will hear wedding bells soon." The king winks at me. I feel a flush creep across my face even as my heart is pierced with ice.

Because I know those bells will not ring for the prince and me. A tear slinks down my left cheek.

"What's wrong?" Gregory asks, his eyes soft with love.

"Nothing," I answer and wipe away the traitorous drop of salt water. "I'm just so happy to be meeting your family. I'm very honored."

"We won't keep you lovebirds any longer," the king chuckles.

The prince leads me away. "Did you like them?"

"They were wonderful," I answer.

He extends a hand.

"May I have this dance--?"

I can tell he is waiting for my name.

"Later. I'll tell you at midnight," I promise. "Right now, I just want to forget everything."

He nods, and we begin to dance. One dance after another, we twirl around the room. The orchestra is playing a very slow, very sweet song at ten. Gregory is holding me tight.

He is so close yet I know I will never be this close to him again. Another tear trails down my face. It is followed by another.

"What's wrong?" he asks me again.

"Can we walk in the garden?" I ask as I wipe a hand across my cheeks.

He nods and leads me through the glass doors.