The Caslte

After my wonderful conversation in the middle of the road. The guards help me to the outside of the castle gates. I am finally let in after the gate keeper opens them. Just beyond the gates is a bridge that crosses over water. The water runs along the front of the castle and leads off into the woods. I can feel a cool breeze as the guards lift me up and across the bridge. They lift me slightly higher in the air so my feet no longer scrape the ground. I guess that’s nice of them but it doesn’t matter now. My feet are already in pain from sliding across the dirt path.

 

The castle has giant double wooden doors. They have unique carvings running up and down the striking wood. I am in shock and in awe at how spacious the entry is. Yeah it’s a castle, but is all of this space necessary? It is unbelievable. The guard holding my right arm let go and stepped away. The guard on my left grabs my right hip and held me up so I can stand straight. I reach my arm up to his covered shoulder to balance myself. It is much more comfortable than them holding my upper arms so low that my feet drag. This time I can stand on my right foot and keep my wounded leg up off the ground.

 

"Wow," I mutter under my breath. I am more impressed than I want to admit. "Lovely, isn't it?" The prince is now standing next to me. I am so entranced that I don’t notice him step up to my side. "No," I quickly reply. "Well you sure seemed to think so a moment ago." "You don't know what I think," I state angrily. How can someone be so full of them self? Does he really think he knows me? Or does he just think this insane palace blew every peasant away?

 

"Oh dear. Oh dear." A short thick woman came bounding down the staircase to my right. It is a wide, long flight. I completely forgot about my leg. This woman finally makes it down the steps and walks up to the little group of equestrians, the prince, and me. She bends down to examine at my bloodstained skirt. She lifts the hem and looks at my messier legs. "Oh my," she says. "We need to get you to the infirmary." "Actually," the prince interrupts. "We need to ask her a few questions." "No, no, no," the woman says, "She needs to get cleaned up. I need to fix this mess." "Fine Agnes. Take her." The prince looks at the guards. ‘Wow!’ I think to myself. ‘I love to be called ‘a mess’ as this woman put it.’ Everything about this situation makes me mad and defensive. “We’ll take her upstairs. That way you may speak with her your highness. Once she is settled you may then speak with her.” The short woman bows. The prince steps back and the other guard steps back to my side.

 

This time they completely lift me off the ground. They each grab an arm and a leg carrying me as if I am royalty. I guess they have to treat me nicely now that we are in front of civilized people. Or just compassionate people. Who knows? Agnes walks behind the giant guards. I peep over my shoulder to see her; she is so tiny from up here with the guards. Not to mention, she is a few steps below us on the grand staircase. Just past her I can see the prince, with his arms crossed wearing an angry expression. Almost as if it is permanent.

 

As I look back at him, I notice a similar yet larger version of him above the entryway. It is a magnificent hanging family portrait. The prince looks young and bored. His parents, the king and queen, look young too, but more determined than plain, flat-out bored. It is not a good expression on the prince. His eyes almost appear to be sad. If I stare at the green irises for long enough, I will start to feel sad. He has so much emotion in his eyes. I think it's odd that no one else seems to feel his pain or anger. I sure do feel the latter at most times.

 

I look around the rest of the entry way immediately to either side of the front doors are the narrow flights of stairs. Leading strait up in a tight spiral. In the center of the entry way is a beautiful wooden set of doors and once again on either side are wide sets of stairs that lead to the balcony overlooking the grand space. The guards carry up me one side and I glance ahead and notice the opposite wall of the balcony has beautiful paintings hanging.

 

Once I am at the top flight, I can feel the 'power' from this view. Everyone is so insignificant beneath me. Looking over the railing, I can see for the first time a beautiful glass chandelier that hung in the very center. It is blocking my view of the family portrait; maybe if the guards aren't lifting me so high I can see the full portrait. The space is beautiful. I hated it. Each wall has the family emblem or various tapestries.

 

"Here we are." Agnes pushes open yet another brilliantly carved door. It is a heavily decorated bedroom. There is a giant bed in the center with nightstands on either side. Hanging above each nightstand is a bright oil lamp. The light flickered illuminating the flower-shaped lamps.  A giant wardrobe sits on the left side of the bed. The bed has a beaded blanket on it and a white flowing canopy above it. I don't expect to stay in a royal bedroom. I thought I would have to stay in a dungeon. Does this castle even have a dungeon? Probably.

 

The guards put me on the bed gently, which is a surprise, while Agnes stands in the doorway. "Thank you boys," she addresses the guards. "I'll be back," she tells me. She then departs the room leaving the door wide open. She is rushing off to an unknown place. The guards then make their way towards the door. They turn around, glare at me, and slam the door shut. It frightens me so much; I think it will fall off its hinges. They must have been angry that they couldn't catch me. They are probably mad that pretty boy caught me first and maybe the fact that I can out run them. I start to smirk to myself. I think it is amusing that I am faster than they are. What else are they trained to do? But then I remember it is my job to be slick.

 

What I don't really know, and need to know is, why the guards are being so nice to me. Once we enter, they are different people. No longer angry that I am escaping. They are the bulkiest people I have ever seen in Hartwell. If anyone questions their rudeness; those two meatheads can kill whoever doubts them. Unless the castle has a 'be nice policy'. If that policy does in fact exist then the prince does not follow it. I wonder if the king and queen do. They are probably much courteous than the prince is. But then again they don't do much to help their kingdom. I don't know what I will find from interacting with these people, but I am optimistic that I will see a different side. One that I don't believe to be true. One that shows that the King and Queen care about Hartwell. I already have my mind made up, but maybe someone can change my mind.

Author's Note

If any of my chapters have [cw] It means 'correct work'. Its a personal note to my self to fix something. If you see it, it is an accident and not supposed to be there! It's just for me to remember to go back and edit my work