"... Hah-hah. Everything is hideous! Argh!"
Scurrying onto the wardrobe, Liza who was a self-proclaimed fashion expert hurriedly pulled a dozen of rare and capable apparel made out of velvety silk, wool, and linen; Mila picked up the dazzling shoes for the lady's feet beneath the rack and hair accessories that would heighten Berniss's appearance above the shelf.
On the other hand, Princess Berniss who sat pretty in the vermillion stool combed her luscious brunette strands and looked herself to the glass mirror upfront, arguing with the pregnant Liza.
"I told you a thousand times, Madam, to get your itchy butt over the house. Didn't you understand your Papa's direction? Now, here we are, struggling to find a fitting dress and unprepared. His Majesty will surely anger with you for this delay," Liza complained, gathering all the available gowns.
Thereafter the tolling bell emanated the undivided Connick, Berniss, and her waiting maids rushed off to the dressing room and got themselves into panic. Liza knew the second Berniss and Mila had a turtle-like chat at the secluded tree, procrastination would unavoidably happen— though the first meeting was important—and the timing was very bad at most.
"Let him," Berniss affirmed, feeling disinterest in the entire set-up, "Stressing yourself over my looks is unworthy of attention, Liza; it only goes down to me, looking out by the window and witnessing the coach arriving through the palace. And voila! My scene enters into the boresome narrative of theirs afterward, drinking wine and greeting those good-for-nothing folks. Isn't amusing?"
Berniss stopped brushing, and she started to wear her jewelry onto her ring finger and ears. She could not tolerate the soon-to-be king Viktor's overprotective nature as usual. Since the death of Elena, her beloved mother, Viktor became too vigilant of his sole daughter's security and protection she did think unnecessary to the extent of banning her from leaving.
It was suffocating for the princess; the single rule from her father pushed her far away from her vision.
"His Majesty restrains me to engage with the crowd outside the monastery, to begin with," she said, applying a light make-up by herself.
"Your Royal Highness, Be not cynical of Sire. He is concerned about what is best for you; it is Your Royal Highness's safety that is essential to the country and nation."
"But why can he nevermore allow me to experience another world aside from the prestige I've acquire? Or I shall say he has provided in me since birth. It is just- ugh! It is unfair, so unfair on my part. I don't exactly know anymore— I'm lost of words to express this hatred within me," The Princess of Marissens shifted her body, face to face, to the busy maids, "What if, at least an hour or two, I won't hold a title nor a privileged status? What does it feel like, eh?"
"You'll face suffering and despair. A hardship you luckily get out, Madam yet you refuse to acknowledge your birthright that everyone will die for," Liza calmly replied, placing the assemblage of dresses and gowns in the mattress.
Berniss went quiet. She wondered why Liza thought of such a horrifying thing. How come the people outside the walls face suffering? By the looks of it, the man or whoever was the owner of the kite ought to be unshackled by the chains. Even Liza's stories...
"How about your fun and loving stories you've told me? Aren't those real?" she asked, hoping Liza would suffice her thirst for answers.
"No, they are true, Madam. They aren't fabricated as you might think," Liza said, assuring the lass, "But I advise you not to be against of His Majesty."
Berniss groaned out of frustration; the waiting-maid was indeed sharp-witted. Viktor's child assumed Liza mocked her without worries because of her authoritative attitude in terms of her maids. She then watched at Mila who placed the shoes nearby her, and tapped his shoulder, "Missy, what can you say? Is going outside dangerous for Your Highness?"
Mila became nervous; he had no idea what to tell her. He glanced at Liza to ask for help, but she warned him, "Say yes." Quickly, he gave the princess both thumbs up. "I see," Berniss sighed, putting on her emerald shoes and glaring at the other lady, "Liza, enough of controlling her. I saw what you did there."
"My apologies, Madam," Liza snorted," Sorry Milly."
Lo and behold, the sound of the trumpets commenced out of doors and reverberated in the house of Kerstel. The cheering of the people, men, women, old and children from the villages and manors roared like a hungry lion with high spirits; each one of the subjects waved the flags out of their pride for the crowned king.
Whistles and shouts of glee coupled with applauses brought about by the supportive noble families from the prominent duchies, principalities, and including the states of Connick.
"All Hail, His Majesty, King Viktor!"
"God save our King!"
The Princess Royal scrambled through the window and observed the exquisite coach that arrived from the Moorleghem Abbey; there, she recognized her father, the new monarch alongside his second wife and princess consort, Irmigard Thys beside him; she had a wavy mahogany hair and alluring amber eyes like a gleaming gem which captivated Viktor Rousseau.
"The great king and his mini she-devil. Sheesh," the chocolate-haired lady who stood behind Princess Berniss smirked.
Out of all the wise decisions the king had ever made in his personal affair, Liza believed Viktor had a huge mistake of choosing Irmigard as his wife— considering that he remarried another woman three months after Elena's burial. In her opinion, his will was unforgivable and cruel for the adored Elena Dumont who rested peacefully in heaven and was her savior.
"Liza, leave Mila and me alone immediately."
"But Your Royal Highness, why-"
"We'll have a private matter to tackle," Berniss commanded, and coldly stared at the lady, " I surmise your final business here has finished; I suggest you better pack up your stuff in the chamber. I heard your fiance shall fetch you by and by."
Liza slouched, having a sense of defeat. She never understood why. She had no choice but to fulfill what The Princess of Marissens asserted. She thus called on Mila and instructed him what he must undertake. After a while, the former lady-in-waiting kneeled before Berniss. "Your Royal Highness, lend me your hand," she said, seemingly begging. The princess complied in reluctance. "All right..."
Liza planted a feathery kiss onto the hand of her darling master; she bid her farewell. Nine years of taking care of the prepubescent to pubescent Berniss Rousseau flew so fast she did not register herself that there would be an inescapable occasion Liza could not digest.
The dressing room, bedchamber of the royal princess, and her peers in the kingdom.
She would miss them a lot...
Liza eventually traversed herself through the latched door. And for the very last time, she glanced at her second child. Folding her arms, Berniss who silently stood by the window never eyed back to the downhearted maid. The princess pretended not to be affected by the impulse of breaking her connection with Liza apart.
Although Liza herself discerned that Berniss manifested a remarkable facade— it was Her Royal Highness's sole way of not showing any sign of emotions in the castle, for she concluded that the subjects of Connick and even the renowned royal and noble families could manipulate it opposing her. Hindering her tears of sadness, she turned the knob and slammed the opening; she did not turn back.
'Farewell, my Liza Avet,' Berniss whispered, shutting her eyes. It was too painful for her soul; the reminiscence of her and Liza flashed across her head. Alas, she stepped forward to the baffled Mila who altogether prepared Berniss's apparel. She lifted her arms sideward, and said, "Strip me, Mila."
The cold Princess of Connick anew had arisen from her sepulcher, whilst Mila was in a state of horror to whom he could not bear to catch a sight of The Princess Royal's fair-skinned flesh.
Mila Febo was a young man after all.