Year 1621. On the day of attempt #2.
The air grew heavy as pale fists clenched the worn-down dress, and eyes sprinkled with wetness. She shouldn't have followed Toryan's plan; couldn't have imagined the fail would be this gut-wrenching.
A tall shadow flickered across the wall, demanding footsteps muffled by an opulent rug.
"Do you realize what you've almost done, Lilian?"
She tried to escape. She failed.
As her last resort, she even attempted to swing her pocket-sized blade against the knight who was sent to intercept her. Not one of her smartest decisions, that she knew. Although she trained with the knights from time to time at the king's request, it was of no use against one of them in a real fight without a sword. In a maid's stolen dress, for god's sake. Her hand was shamefully quickly captured under the knight's condescending smile, the ludicrous blade taken away along with the last bits of her vigor and dignity.
"Must you cause such a commotion right before the announcement of my successor? Why is your mind so plagued by this foolish plan of yours?" She did possess a tendency to obsess over various undertakings when her mind was set on it; the King used to praise this quality, but certainly not when it didn't suit his own plans.
"Take an example from your brother," he proceeded to call to her conscience.
Her brat of a brother was the one who helped her with the escape plan. The future crown prince indubitably needed to make better use of his strategy textbooks. The first escape attempt was more of a test - to see if it was possible to sneak out from the palace without anyone noticing and find out when the panic of her disappearance would start spreading through the court. It was a successful attempt, mind you. Her brother offered his help with the second one, stating he knew better secret passages, but even though Toryan was four minutes older than her, his competence had suffered stupendous losses since the day his eyes saw the world for the first time; therefore, the second attempt was also considered a test - the one that failed.
Lilian considered the possibility of her brother sharing her plans with Fil. Those two were as thick as thieves.
Even though the Princess didn't believe in miracles, she has always been fond of numbers and knew that the third attempt would be it; after the king declares her brother as an heir, the celebration shall be held, and she'll go to her chambers in the middle of the feast; everyone would understand the princess and her sorrow and she shan't be bothered. Under the guard's frail attention, Lilian shall flee. She just had to wait for a few more days and finish the preparations.
"And what's with this attire of yours? What maid did you steal it from this time?"
"Marybeth." Came an immediate unwavering response, mind still lost in thoughts and enraged by recent defeat.
Sincere apologies, Marybeth.
The King sighed. Bruised shadows beneath his eyes made him look much more stern. "You're being reckless."
The Princess took a deep breath. Her voice trembled slightly as she repeated the words she'd already said a million times. "And you're being a hypocrite."
They both knew what she was talking about. Her mother Vivienne was a mere commoner who charmed the free-spirited crown prince and married him despite the protests of the council. Lilian was merely a blurred reflection of the beauty her mother, the Queen possessed. Cascading strands of light ashes most times combed into a neat crown couldn't compare to the blazing hearth that Vivienne embodied in appearance and will. Like an immaculately brushed painting, she was drenched with a feeling of calm grandeur and always seemed to encompass all the living with her sole presence. The King, who once went against the nobles in his pursuit to marry this woman for love, now personally arranged Lilian's marriage to the second prince of Lusterus, dismissing her desires and his past.
"Stop already with that nonsense. You have duties as the princess of this kingdom."
The words struggled to roll off her tongue. "Have you forgotten that I'm also your daughter?"
This conversation never had the outcome she wished for and it drained her out with every passing word, akin to dew melting under dissolving solar beams.
"You intend to run away and then what? Sell your jewelry? Relief yourself under the bench? Work in a tavern near the said bench?" The strained King's voice seemed to lose its tranquility. "Live happily ever after as a peasant woman, the one your dead mother used to be? Maybe fall in love with a baker's son? Is that the peak of your ambitions?"
"Your years of youth were no better. Me and Toryan are reminder enough, aren't we?" She said, voice stammering.
She knew the king didn't like to be reminded of his foolishness. Without a doubt, he thought he made a grave mistake by marrying a peasant woman who still fell ill and died in five years. Nevertheless, she gave birth to his kids and Lilian hoped it meant something, prayed deep down the king still loved her mother and her with Toryan by extension. But even if he did, his actions unfailingly spoke of the exact opposite, festering already purulent wound day after day.
"Go to your chambers, Lilian. Fantasize about your great escape all you want, the Prince is still coming in a week. Better reread all your etiquette books not to disgrace yourself in front of your future husband... and the entire kingdom."
Her heart was pinned to the floor by the weight of his words. The King didn't wait for her answer and set off. The door was shut with a loud thump and Lilian resisted the urge to scream with her whole throat like she did when she was a kid, and something didn't go her way. Instead, the air was met with deafening silence and a flump of the head against the wall. Even the quietude of his disappearance failed to bring forth any kind of consolation. A peculiar feeling clenched her chest as her blood sizzled with insurmountable anger. Lilian loathed the way the King's presence always brought out the worst in her, entangling in a spider's web. The way he couldn't see what his daughter saw.
Her main reason for fleeing was avoiding the marriage, it's true. But that's not all there is to it. Lilian never went far from the palace; saw merely a tiny scrap of the world outside the window. She had Marybeth, had her favorite ivy that hid her from the bustling boredome of the castle, books, lessons, tea parties, had her weekly boquet of pink iberis left by the unknown, but that wasn't enough. She never fished in the rivers, danced in a tavern, climbed a mountain, contemplated sunset on the coast – only devoured it all on the pages. She didn't need a baker's son; she starved for a life, dreamed of finding a field of daisies, iberis and carnations without any map and claim it as her favourite spot, safe the villager from a thief or even get robbed by one, visit the places from parables and come up with tales of her own. She needed to try out all life could give her with the wins and losses. And with all due respect to the second prince of Lusterus, she couldn't have that with him.
The Princess' attention lazily shifted towards the crow behind the window panes, who watched the whole thing. Lilian always wondered if the bird shared her aspirations in any way, though didn't know neither whose it was, nor why it kept showing up in front of her for the last couple of years. She didn't mind feeding it if the occasion presented itself and when her lovely Marybeth wasn't in the room to roll eyes at her "sickeningly pure hearted deeds."