"The time has come again."

Nobody said it out loud, however, I can hear it clearly. In the shuffling of the servants distributing my paintings in the noble's households. In the increase of beauty products inside my drawer. In the restriction of my interactions with others. In the pitying look of their eyes.

"The time has come again. Before there were five, now it's the seventh and eight princess's turn."

I stand in withering silence, holding my tears amidst the obscuring veils of muslin. The thin fabric once received as a gift from a faraway kingdom so beautiful, I wish I could have admired it for its beauty instead of detesting the way it made me look desirable. A trait that is dangerous for any woman to have. Even those in high power.

As a little child I was taught to seek it. The power of captivation. But as I saw my elder sisters one by one sold off to wealthy and powerful men,, I came to detest it. Even the very face I had. The mole under my right eye that caused them to call me exotic. And the raven black hair that no one in this continent was reported to have.

"Your Highness, it is my greatest pleasure to paint you today." As expected from the painter who amazed the entire nation, even the flush on his face is artistically shaded and blends into his pearly white skin. From the outside, he appeared to be in his mid-twenties, but, everyone who had a bit of knowledge of art in this kingdom knew, that this is the one man we shouldn't judge by the cover. Still, even for maister Anders, this job is a very big feat.

The perfect way to showcase his skills to nobles and royals of other kingdoms and empires. I imagine I would be drawn very beautifully. However, .I can not mirror his excitement. For him, this meeting is the coming of glory, the beginning of his beautiful life. Nevertheless, for me, this is the start of everything I didn't yearn for.

I despise it deeply. The way that palette will draw me in such a way they'd wish to crush the little bit of freedom I have to smithereens. Now, I will be known as nothing but another ornament. Now, the restraint placed on me will go deeper than corsets. Now, I am a wisp of a human, a bonsai to be sold to the rich.

"The pleasure is mine, Maister Anders. Shall we start the session?"

A tremble threatened to fill my words, but I controlled it to stay beneath my composure. He shall not see me weep today. No one will. This is the last pride I have. The dignity of the strong. Hearing my positive response, the painter responds by giving several instructions. The first was to sit on the table inside the room amidst the semi transparent curtains. Then to take a handful of flowers from the vase and pillars nearby before blowing it to the painter. As though, I am the flowers given to the viewers.

The smell of flowers around me never felt so suffocating. As if it had entered my lungs and drowned me inside out. But there was no choice but to do so. Even if the very concept of this painting is rather controversial. and henceforth stain my reputation. Most noble women would have sat in a chair or stood amongst a beautiful background. But they wanted mine to be different. To be full of mystery and seductiveness.

As if it's all someone like me from half a dirty lineage could achieve.

For centuries, our kingdom of Olena only allowed the queen to be of noble bloodline and children of concubines aren't recognized to diminish succession problems after a particularly bloody battle for the throne. However, it all changed with my mother's love story with my father, king Baldwin II.

Now, I am the scandalous child. The one who always has to sit in the back. Whose only purpose is to be married off for power and wealth. The only spiteful comfort I have in this darkness, is that all my sisters were also sold to marriages. Even so, at least they are let go with dignity with the points of charm being virtue, a safe way to attract well-mannered man with great ethics. But mine- mine, is of temptation, even if it meant attracting lecherous people, I am forced into this. As though they do not think I could ensnare the royals nearby without attracting their lustful hearts.

That is to say they think I'm a defect whose only good point is beauty. A point I loved and hated my tantalizing mother for. I can only hope that a decent man proposed my hand in marriage. That I do not become anyone's toy. It doesn't have to be a man of high power, as long as he is faithful as I would to him.

"Excellent, I am sure many would scramble to get a glimpse of you after this."

I can only let myself be comforted. The boat has already been flown. Now, I can only see where the currents will lead me. If I would be swallowed by the waves. If I could reach the end. Despite the painting already being done, I can only pray inside for it to be beautiful enough for me to get a good marriage but not enough to be sought by immoral people. .

"Like a rare flower to be plucked and discarded?"

Despite being in the know, that braving the future with enthusiasm is a healthier option, a part of me can't help but roll in bitterness. It goes way back to the tip of my tongue and into my weeping heart. The heartache of being a political tool to the two individuals who should've loved me most.

The painter went into a lapse of silence and just decided to carefully show me the art he created. A canvas that did not at all portray the girl I knew. There is a melody in the way she appears as if she is about to move at any second. An invitation in every arc and curve that lines her figure. A magnetic whisper to fall in love in the shape of her heart resembling lips and the exotic mole under her eye.

It is rather narcissistic of me to say this. But she felt like twilight. Like the intertwining of light and darkness. As if she had underwent all the darkness in the world yet at the same time knew nothing but light. So ethereal and out of this world, I fear I may end up disappointing them when I meet. The worry of not catching their attention wanes yet is submerged by the concern of not being able to maintain it.

"No, like an aria sweeping the feet of canines and men alike."

At the sound of this praise, I came to an amused laughter. By the looks of it, most of my suitors would be likened to wolves and dogs. Soon after, I stopped laughing when I realized I was the raw pile of meat. I hope they're true humans in heart and not carnivorous, immoral beings. Not that there were anything but human beings, then again human are often the ruthless ones.

Taking two cups filled with wine that was previously used as props, I hand over one glass nonchalantly to the painter and raise mine to him, making sure to smile winningly in spite of the maelstrom brewing within. With a mouth full of honey and the dead bees of my pride and dreams, I cheer, "For the glory of the kingdom of Olena and the infinite happiness of my blooming romance."

Yet, just before he leaves, I catches up to him, feet hurrying in a hastiness I thought to have forgotten. The recipient of my ambush was so surprised, he nearly trips and only manage to regain his stance through a lot of effort. Yet, the slightest notion of anger didn't appear on his face, only doting and the desire to answer to my whims. It seems that the flowers and these bewitching clothing did one too heavy of a blow on him.

"Is there a problem, Your Highness?"

I moved back for a step, the words forming in my throat yet held back at the tip of my tongue. This is something that I would know, either way, something that I have long predicted, but I come to desire information so I may prepare for the upcoming battle.

"The paintings, to how many people would they be distributed? Is it only to foreign kingdoms?"

The painter looked at me understandingly. Yet there is the insouciance sedimented from the years of knowing my sisters one by one get traded for the sake of prosperity.

Save for two who married to true love, one to a duke and the other to a neighboring prince, the rest were all gone, one rewarded to the general, the other to a foreign noble to ensure trade with nearby empires. Only the 6th and 8th princess is still safe from those preying hands. And instead of allowing any of us to tread our own path, all of us are gathered on this market.

"In total, they're being sent to seven locations. One to the Vranid empire, one to the smaller Creon empire, and the other five to the kingdoms around us. It should arrive before the birthday banquet of the Vranid empire. As of now, there is no plan to spread the painting in this kingdom."

I frowned subtly at the realization I would have to leave the kingdom I would come to love. All those that I knew and have come to familiarize myself with. The ocean in the breeze and the bright blue summer skies, the coldness I've come to embrace as part of my life. All the things I have yet to let go of.

Yet in view, of the painter and watching eyes, I restrained myself.

"I see, thank you."