back.”
“It’s more than that,” Orion leaned forward as he spoke, holding Marie in his golden gaze.
“Your soul is tied to Azriel. As your soul strengthens, so does the town. You’re starting to believe that you belong here.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Marie moved her hand to dismiss the comment away as though it were a fly agitating her.
“Is it?”
Marie pondered Orion’s words for a moment. Ever since she had sat upon the throne something within her had changed, she couldn’t argue with that. She no longer felt like an alien within Azriel. A part of her felt like it belonged and it revelled in playing princess. But that was all she was doing, playing. She wasn’t their princess. She belonged somewhere else, didn’t she?
“I’m not a princess.” Marie concluded though her voice lacked conviction.
“Well, you certainly seem like one.”
*
A few hours later and Marie’s royal impersonation was put to the test when she was set to walk through the streets of Azriel whilst adoring citizens tossed basketfuls of rose petals in to the air which would cascade down upon her in a floral waterfall.
She was no longer wearing a multi-coloured dress. Instead she was dressed in a golden gown which swirled at her feet. Upon her feet she wore gold sandals and atop her head was placed a golden crown, made of the same golden branch design as the grand throne. Regarding her reflection in the mirror Marie had to admit that she looked like a princess. Her dark hair gleamed against the gold. Even her skin seemed to radiate as though some of the golden sparkle of the garment had been absorbed in to her very being.
It was surreal to take it all in. Marie twirled numerous times before the mirror, loving how her dress caught the light. Once she’d stopped spinning she paused to admire the crown upon her head. Oddly it fit her perfectly as though it had been specially made for her. Usually, whenever she tried hats on they would fall down over her ears as her head was quite small. But the crown didn’t slide down and block her view, it stayed perfectly in place.
The crown was quite heavy and Marie struggled to keep her head up whilst wearing it.
“You’ll get used to the weight,” Orion commented from his position sat on her bed.
“It’s pretty heavy,” Marie muttered dubiously, raising her hands to gently finger the intricate detail along the crown.
“The crone and the throne, they are made to look like the beanstalks, why is that?” Marie wondered, not expecting Orion to be able to provide the answer.
“The beanstalks represent ascension,” he crossed the room and came to stand behind her in the mirror, his breath fluttering against the bare skin of her neck as he spoke.
“And royalty also represent ascension. Royal blood allows for Azriel to grow up and be the greatest city it can be.”
Their eyes met in their reflection and Marie felt her heart begin to race. Orion’s expression was intense but unreadable as he looked at her. He was so close that Marie could smell the mint upon his breath, the scent of fire wood which clung slightly to his suit. Her breath caught in her chest when he placed his hands upon her hips.
Orion was impossibly handsome yet he didn’t carry himself with any sort of arrogance, not even a quiet confidence. If anything, Marie often found him to seem quite shy. But now he looked bold and self-assured. His eyes remained locked on hers.
Marie knew that there was some reason why she shouldn’t feel so attracted to him. Some reason why she couldn’t just turn around and give herself to him but she’d forgotten what that reason was. She sensed that she’d made a promise long ago, a promise that belonged to a different place, a different time.
“You look beautiful,” Orion broke the tense silence, his voice smooth and soft as it whispered upon her neck.
“I,” Marie couldn’t look
“It’s more than that,” Orion leaned forward as he spoke, holding Marie in his golden gaze.
“Your soul is tied to Azriel. As your soul strengthens, so does the town. You’re starting to believe that you belong here.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Marie moved her hand to dismiss the comment away as though it were a fly agitating her.
“Is it?”
Marie pondered Orion’s words for a moment. Ever since she had sat upon the throne something within her had changed, she couldn’t argue with that. She no longer felt like an alien within Azriel. A part of her felt like it belonged and it revelled in playing princess. But that was all she was doing, playing. She wasn’t their princess. She belonged somewhere else, didn’t she?
“I’m not a princess.” Marie concluded though her voice lacked conviction.
“Well, you certainly seem like one.”
*
A few hours later and Marie’s royal impersonation was put to the test when she was set to walk through the streets of Azriel whilst adoring citizens tossed basketfuls of rose petals in to the air which would cascade down upon her in a floral waterfall.
She was no longer wearing a multi-coloured dress. Instead she was dressed in a golden gown which swirled at her feet. Upon her feet she wore gold sandals and atop her head was placed a golden crown, made of the same golden branch design as the grand throne. Regarding her reflection in the mirror Marie had to admit that she looked like a princess. Her dark hair gleamed against the gold. Even her skin seemed to radiate as though some of the golden sparkle of the garment had been absorbed in to her very being.
It was surreal to take it all in. Marie twirled numerous times before the mirror, loving how her dress caught the light. Once she’d stopped spinning she paused to admire the crown upon her head. Oddly it fit her perfectly as though it had been specially made for her. Usually, whenever she tried hats on they would fall down over her ears as her head was quite small. But the crown didn’t slide down and block her view, it stayed perfectly in place.
The crown was quite heavy and Marie struggled to keep her head up whilst wearing it.
“You’ll get used to the weight,” Orion commented from his position sat on her bed.
“It’s pretty heavy,” Marie muttered dubiously, raising her hands to gently finger the intricate detail along the crown.
“The crone and the throne, they are made to look like the beanstalks, why is that?” Marie wondered, not expecting Orion to be able to provide the answer.
“The beanstalks represent ascension,” he crossed the room and came to stand behind her in the mirror, his breath fluttering against the bare skin of her neck as he spoke.
“And royalty also represent ascension. Royal blood allows for Azriel to grow up and be the greatest city it can be.”
Their eyes met in their reflection and Marie felt her heart begin to race. Orion’s expression was intense but unreadable as he looked at her. He was so close that Marie could smell the mint upon his breath, the scent of fire wood which clung slightly to his suit. Her breath caught in her chest when he placed his hands upon her hips.
Orion was impossibly handsome yet he didn’t carry himself with any sort of arrogance, not even a quiet confidence. If anything, Marie often found him to seem quite shy. But now he looked bold and self-assured. His eyes remained locked on hers.
Marie knew that there was some reason why she shouldn’t feel so attracted to him. Some reason why she couldn’t just turn around and give herself to him but she’d forgotten what that reason was. She sensed that she’d made a promise long ago, a promise that belonged to a different place, a different time.
“You look beautiful,” Orion broke the tense silence, his voice smooth and soft as it whispered upon her neck.
“I,” Marie couldn’t look
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