Cold and dim, this prison bounds me with only a ray of daylight to illuminate my room. The hand-crafted window frame, the teapot made of the finest china, the bed -- silky, soft and smooth... it is certainly a luxurious quarter even considering the palace outside. But if you are a bird trapped in a tiny cage, would you really care if the bars are made of gold?

Sunlight ends just in front of the door; just meters away and unlocked. Tempting, but I know there is little point in trying to escape. 

Scars where my tendons used to be reminded me of my grim situation. For perhaps a few years now I have been stuck kneeling before this window, unable to raise myself up to look at anything but the clouds.

But what is more torturous is this silence. This solitude. This boredom. Each passing day seemed identical to the last, blurring my perception of time.

"Bzzzzt..."

A sound other than my own. My eyes zoomed towards its vague direction. It was a fly. 

Clumsily buzzing around the room, bumping his snoot against the walls and glass planes.

"Mr Fly... what seems to be the problem" I asked. 

No reply. Instead he went under the bed, into the closet and everywhere else in this room. Sometimes my eyes lose track of him, but in no time I would see him in a completely different location. 

His movements were frantic, as if he was searching for something important.

"Excuse me Mr Fly, are you looking for something?" I asked again.

Again he didn't reply. This time, my eyes stalked him more carefully as he drunkenly crashed himself on top of a flower. Curiously I crawled towards the table.

"A flower? You want that flower Mr Fly?"

He immediately buzzed off; seems like that isn't what he wants. This time however, he flew towards me, hovering around my head for a bit before landing on my nose.

"You would rather have me?"

This time he stayed still.

"Oh... you are making me blush."

I scooped his little butt off with my pinky, careful as to not break his fragile body. He stayed on it for a while before taking off yet again, returning to his perch on the petals.

"You want me to have that flower?"

I grabbed onto the ledge of the table, lifting myself up towards the flower vase.

"Thank you." I smiled, plucking a flower for myself, "You are a real sweetheart Mr Fly. How I wish all men were like you."

"Mary! What are you doing?!" A loud voice suddenly boomed, "You should be doing homework!" A large woman burst through the door. Her hands by her hips signaling trouble has arrived. She was a muscular woman with arms as thick as my thighs, and a roar that would challenge the wildest of beasts; atypical of the petite maids you read in novels. 

The Victorian maid outfit fits her like purple polka-dots on a gorilla. But don't let her looks deceive you, she is the best we have; wise, quick-witted, capable and strong. To the right men, some might even consider her toned body to be quite an asset. If only she didn't scare most men away on the first meeting...

"And who is Mr Fly? I hope you are not having any nonsensical fantasies of running away with yet another man!" She glared at me with her lower lip over the upper one.

"Of course not Morak." I rubbed the back of my ankles. 

"I hate men..."

Although subtle, I could see Morak give a sigh of relief. The amount of trouble she must have gone through to save me back then, can never be repaid with just cash. 

"Sorry. I have brought up some stuff, but please understand how worried the king and I were." There was an honest sincerity in her voice, revealing her softer, tender side. She is strict, fierce and is a brute at times, but she loves me more than any in the palace, and in return, I love her like a sister.

"Only you were worried..." I whispered.

"Pardon?" She tilted her ear towards me, leaning forward.

"Nothing. I was just saying that I have no intention of running away anymore." I gave as flashy of a smile as I could, diverting her attention away.

"Well if you say so..."

With that she plopped me back onto my study chair, before making her way to the door.

"Ah! By the way… the king has hired a physician for your leg." Morak added.

"Another one?" I exclaimed, rolling my eyes. Many scholars have come forth to the palace, claiming to have the skills to heal my leg, but none have succeeded...

"This one is different. He's from Sillia, your homeland." Morak replied

My eyes opened wide at that statement. The King hiring a Sillian? He must be really desperate, I thought. 

The tension between Sillia and Vesteria are at an all time high. What started as a minor dispute over ownership of mines somehow snowballed into what it is today. The Vesterians started it, mobilizing their forces near the border. Of course the normally peaceful Sillia were forced to act, mobilizing their own forces in retaliation. In the end, we were stuck in a money-sucking stand-off. 

Not wanting an all out war, my father traded my hand in marriage to the crown prince of Vesteria, as a peace tribute. However, faults appeared in our marriage almost immediately. Everything from our habits, to our personalities, and even our culture all clashed like two tigers on a mountain. And when the marriage was made public, the civilians' outcry only added fuel to the fire. It was not long after both the prince and I found better matches. Him with a noblewoman and mine with a general. 

Naively, I thought that he would be understanding -- since we both had our infidelity. But I underestimated the prince's jealousy...

"Princess Mary?" 

I looked up to see Morak staring at me with concern. My fingers were unintentionally scratching frantically at the back of my ankles.

"Ah! Sorry, you could leave now." I sheepishly smiled.

With that she slowly backed away before bowing and leaving the quarters, leaving me alone yet again...

Filled with dread, I looked at the tower of books on my study table, or as the king calls it, "homework". They were just books about the country's history and culture, an attempt to assimilate me into their system, though I find it unlikely that any Vesterian would accept me anyways.

Hesitantly, I flipped through the pages. It is said that history is written by the victors, but they are also filled with liars. That couldn't be more true with Vesteria. Their history books always portrayed them as either the victim of injustice or the hero of protecting the weak. It's always them against the villains from the east with their magic wands and spells, while they were just a pitiful magicless nation that were forced to use their steam machines to plow through the opposition.

Sometimes I pity the citizens of Vesteria; forced fed propaganda since birth. It is no wonder why the public seems blind to who the true villain is.

"Knock knock!"