The fog was thick, enveloping the entire garden.
Since the first light was yet to shine, the sky was still dark and the last of the stars twinkled above. The sounds of birds drifted through the trees, and the flowers and leaves dripped with morning dew. A gentle hum could be heard, as workers began to start their chores.
Unbeknownst to the world at large, a girl gently looked down onto the scenery below, from the little window of her tall tower, observing everything in her view.
She was a tiny girl, with a heart-shaped face and large silver eyes — that shined with occasional childish curiosity, and yet had considerably dimmed with maturity. Her long raven hair carelessly flowed from her head, falling behind her body in wavy curls, whilst her white nightgown fluttered in the wind that escaped into her humble room.
With a careful grip, she touched the windowsill, looking down from the long tower that she was confined inside, onto the big green plants and the wide black sky. It was as if she was observing the magnitude of the world, which was much bigger than she believed it to be.
It was comforting that the world was not as big as her room alone and that there were other human beings and animals outside — other than that rude caretaker who gave her moldy bread once a day, or the strict instructor who used a cane to "teach" her palace etiquette.
With wonder in her eyes, she watched the stars twinkle and listened to the song of the birds and the small hums of the maids, as they went about their work. They probably did not even know she existed, but the girl didn't mind.
As she thought so, a bird suddenly flew out of a tree, towards the front of her window, and then back into the sky. The light flutter of its wings sent a wave of warmth to her face.
The girl looked with shocked eyes, watching the bird as it flew through the air and into the distance, finally out of the castle walls and still, further away. She watched the bird's flight, which seemed so magical in the setting of dawn.
The bird was like a black blob flying toward the rising yellow sun.
Serene, beautiful and so... free.
Perhaps it was at this moment, that the girl experienced her first bout of envy. Her eyes silently gleamed with wonder and curiosity, yet her heart ached with an unknown emotion.
As the first rays of light touched her skin, the girl stared at the point where the bird had disappeared from view. At the fleeting sight of liberty before her, she could not help but silently complain to herself.
'I wish I was born with wings, instead of being a Shehzadi...'
[A/N: Shehzadi means "Princess"]
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Far away from this tower of the girl, lay another child — just as lonely and greedy for rescue.
With a heavy sword in his hands and gleaming red eyes, he stared down at the ground where a dead bird lay, with an expression of great anger and malice.
It was the very dead bird, that he had killed himself.
The boy stared at its unmoving body, and then at his sword which was covered with its filthy blood. Behind him, stood the Palace retainers, looking horrified at what they had just seen —
A mere child, no more than seven years of age, killing a tiny bird without cause or reason. The perfect personification of a heartless murder! Awful and foul, and so horribly cruel.
"Y-Your Royal Highness..." One of the retainers stepped forward. His face was pale and his gait was slow. He seemed unhappy at the prospect of approaching the boy.
In response, the boy stared at the retainer with a disinterested gaze, "What?"
"D-Do you want me to clean the space, sir?"
The boy stared down at the bird, and then at the sky.
"Go ahead." He simply said, throwing his sword onto the ground, and walking away.
Despite what the retainer ended up saying, the boy knew what the retainer actually wanted to ask — 'Why did you kill that bird, Sir?' or something along those lines. The question was clear from his face, along with the expected shock at the situation before him.
And for this boy, whose eyes seemed like that of a dead person's, there was only one answer to this unspoken question.
When he had just begun his sword practice, the sight of the merry creature, flying from one flower to the other, was strangely irking. To the boy, the bird's flight was akin to freedom, and he had found it preposterous. Even mocking, in fact.
And so, he had unsheathed his longsword, and split the bird into two, ceasing its flight and stealing its freedom.
It was his own cruel childishness — for if the boy could never be free, then no other being should feel so either.