Ava came out of her thoughts and looked back towards her betrothed. I'm married to this man, now. He is my husband, and we are married... I hope that I can trust him. I know that married people are supposed to share everything, but... I don't think I'll share all of my heart with him. Its been locked away since forever... she thought, taking a stroll down memory lane.
She remembered the last time she truly shared her feelings with the outside world. It was a memory she'd never forget, a face she'd always remember. She remembered how it had to do with the execution of a young peasant boy. She remembered how hard she fought to keep that boy alive, and how his family thanked her for all her help. They were poor, and had nothing, and so he stole for his family's survival but was caught. Ava said she'd pay for it and make it better, and tried everything to persuade her father, but he wouldn't budge. Something about setting an example. Whatever he said had made Ava explode into a barrage of every word that she knew, good and bad, at her father for being, in so many words, such a cold and callous leader to execute a poor boy for trying to feed his family. She had even paid to have a house built for them and gave them a job as carpenters to start them off somewhere. She'd never before nor again seen the angry look on his face after she mouthed off at him, and after a quick, but painful slap, she was sent to her room for one week in solitary confinement. She had never been hit by her father, and had never been more enraged and refused to eat at all the first day. But as she sat alone on her chair staring out the window, allowing the hurt and pain of her failure to sink in, she finally realized that justice did not exist. It was all up to someone higher in rank what was right and wrong, fair and unfair, what goes and what doesn't. She decided that she could not trust anyone but herself in this world, that they were all liars. Then she began to paint, and paint and paint pictures of anything and everything, mostly sunsets that reflected her emotions: dark and sad, and then drawings of herself sitting alone in her chair: alone and bitter. Whenever the maids would come in, she'd put a smile on her face and say what they expected her to say, and have them to leave with a smile. That's what it's all about, keeping those around you happy so they don't do something that has a negative effect on you, she had thought when she was younger. After she was let out, she was careful never to show anger or sadness or hurt to anyone but herself again. That way, the liars among them would never know what her weaknesses were.
Ava came out of her memories with a few blinks, her eyes expressionless and a frozen fake smile plastered on her lips, one she had mastered how to make look real long ago, no matter what she was truly feeling. That's why I want to leave. That guy over there, so called "papa", is a sell out. Look what he's doing? Selling us. Selling us to our former enemies. What a nice man he is, she thought as she smiled warmly at him, though her eyes were dark and cold, which he didn't seem no notice. No matter what she did, she could not mask the emotion in her eyes, which has led to her speaking to people while avoiding their gaze. A few moments later, she looked at Natri, pensively. I wonder if I should confide in her. I wonder if I could confide in any one my sisters.... maybe. I don't know. I don't really trust them yet... or, more accurately, I don't really trust my judgment on who's a liar and who is not. I just kept protecting myself, but never took the time to observe whom I was protecting myself from, she thought, looking away again and straight ahead, her posture straight and regal as she continued to smile undoubtedly. First things first. Before I can share my heart with my prince, I must share with my sisters. I'll just... start reacting like normal, and not hold myself back. But only in front of them. Let's see how this goes, she thought, seriously.
She remembered the last time she truly shared her feelings with the outside world. It was a memory she'd never forget, a face she'd always remember. She remembered how it had to do with the execution of a young peasant boy. She remembered how hard she fought to keep that boy alive, and how his family thanked her for all her help. They were poor, and had nothing, and so he stole for his family's survival but was caught. Ava said she'd pay for it and make it better, and tried everything to persuade her father, but he wouldn't budge. Something about setting an example. Whatever he said had made Ava explode into a barrage of every word that she knew, good and bad, at her father for being, in so many words, such a cold and callous leader to execute a poor boy for trying to feed his family. She had even paid to have a house built for them and gave them a job as carpenters to start them off somewhere. She'd never before nor again seen the angry look on his face after she mouthed off at him, and after a quick, but painful slap, she was sent to her room for one week in solitary confinement. She had never been hit by her father, and had never been more enraged and refused to eat at all the first day. But as she sat alone on her chair staring out the window, allowing the hurt and pain of her failure to sink in, she finally realized that justice did not exist. It was all up to someone higher in rank what was right and wrong, fair and unfair, what goes and what doesn't. She decided that she could not trust anyone but herself in this world, that they were all liars. Then she began to paint, and paint and paint pictures of anything and everything, mostly sunsets that reflected her emotions: dark and sad, and then drawings of herself sitting alone in her chair: alone and bitter. Whenever the maids would come in, she'd put a smile on her face and say what they expected her to say, and have them to leave with a smile. That's what it's all about, keeping those around you happy so they don't do something that has a negative effect on you, she had thought when she was younger. After she was let out, she was careful never to show anger or sadness or hurt to anyone but herself again. That way, the liars among them would never know what her weaknesses were.
Ava came out of her memories with a few blinks, her eyes expressionless and a frozen fake smile plastered on her lips, one she had mastered how to make look real long ago, no matter what she was truly feeling. That's why I want to leave. That guy over there, so called "papa", is a sell out. Look what he's doing? Selling us. Selling us to our former enemies. What a nice man he is, she thought as she smiled warmly at him, though her eyes were dark and cold, which he didn't seem no notice. No matter what she did, she could not mask the emotion in her eyes, which has led to her speaking to people while avoiding their gaze. A few moments later, she looked at Natri, pensively. I wonder if I should confide in her. I wonder if I could confide in any one my sisters.... maybe. I don't know. I don't really trust them yet... or, more accurately, I don't really trust my judgment on who's a liar and who is not. I just kept protecting myself, but never took the time to observe whom I was protecting myself from, she thought, looking away again and straight ahead, her posture straight and regal as she continued to smile undoubtedly. First things first. Before I can share my heart with my prince, I must share with my sisters. I'll just... start reacting like normal, and not hold myself back. But only in front of them. Let's see how this goes, she thought, seriously.
. . . this was a therapeutic chain of e v e n t s +
