"Aishh," Marlowe flinched when the pull on her hair was rough, therefore pulling her out of her daze.
Today was her tour, and she earnestly prayed that she wouldn't bump into any other Royal family members.
"It's ready, Your Majesty," Merkin informed with a bright smile.
Marlowe looked at herself in the mirror. With appreciation in her eyes, she muttered, "Thank you,"
Today she had told the maid to not give her the fancy and tushy hairstyles. She likes her hair laid down and that, she requested.
With reluctance, the maid, Merkin, still decided to go along with her style, but not without making it beautiful with the necessary designs and hair accessories.
"You look prettier this way, Your Majesty," Merkin complimented with astonishment in her tone. As if realizing that Marlowe's desired style soothes her best.
With a shy blush tainting her cheeks, Marlowe buried her head and muttered another, "thanks,"
Just then, a knock called for their attention before Marlowe gave permission to enter.
Another familiar maid came in with a paper in her hands, making Marlowe nervously curious.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," she bowed.
"Morning," Marlowe replied. Pondering what the paper held—she'd gotten traumas for papers.
Obviously seeing the Queen's curiosity, the maid carefully tore the seal from binding the ends of the wrapped paper. She began to read what it entailed.
"Her Majesty, Queen Marlowe Hebron Alnov, is ought to attend her royal classes starting from tomorrow, and is invited to dinner with the rest of the Royal family, a week from now." The maid relayed before handing the letter over to Marlowe.
Meanwhile, with a sunken heart, Marlowe slowly stretched her arm to take the paper, with obvious turmoil in her eyes.
Without the need to glance through it, Marlowe quickly placed it on the table before her. Not wanting to re-read her doom.
Once the maid who brought the letter had left, Merkin strode closer to her, "You're nervous, Your Majesty," she pointed out.
Marlowe let out a shaky smile, "I'll be fine,"
"Are you afraid?" Merkin asked, concerned in her tone.
"Of what?" she smiled.
"Perhaps, the classes?" Merkin guessed, lifting one brow of uncertainty.
"I believe you'll do just fine—"
"It's the latter," Marlowe said, cutting her off.
"Oh. I should have guessed," she mumbled.
"You don't have to be worried, it's a week from now,"
"Mmm," came Marlowe's mere response.
She inhaled and exhaled deeply, instantly thawing the anguish in her heart away.
"I'm ready," she said, her lips pressed in a thin line.
"Alright, this way, Your Majesty," Merkin gestured towards the door.
Marlowe sloppily stood, following the maid out of the room as she banged the door behind her.
"Since you've already been to the garden, why not, we visit the kitchen?" The maid suggested, looking up to her for her approval.
"Sure," Marlowe consented.
The way to the kitchen was rather complex, and Marlowe had a difficult time trying to remember each turn.
Finally, they arrived.
"Greetings, Your Majesty!" The whole staff echoed as they bow their heads in curtsy.
They weren't aware that they were having a visit from the new Queen; hence their nervousness.
Feeling uncomfortable by the myriads of heads bowed to her, Marlowe threw a glimpse at her maid behind her, silently asking her what she was supposed to do about this.
Merkin awkwardly mouthed the word 'rise' to her.
Catching what she meant, Marlowe looked back at her veneer, she cleared her throat before muttering, "Please, rise,"
Her tone lacked authority, but rather sounded polite—not an attribute the queen of Valcresh should possess.
Obliging, the kitchen staff rose according to her order. Now given the opportunity, they took their time to scrutinize their new Queen.
"Please, have a seat, Your Majesty," a kitchen woman who looked elderly, offered her with a nervous laugh.
"Oh no, thank you, but I won't stay for long, I was just passing by," Marlowe politely rejected. Unknowingly creating thoughts of awe in the minds of the staffs present.
The elderly woman was appalled. Did she just hear the Queen say 'thank you'?
Spreading her lips to a smile, Marlowe ignored the dazed elderly woman, and waved at the others. "I shall take my leave," she said before striding out with Merkin right behind her.
Once she was out, she exhaled deeply.
Marlowe could not deny, she was terrified in there. Looking at thousands of the Castle's workers, not sure of their identities.
The intent look they all had glued on her made feel her paunch move.
Incapable of taking it any longer, she immediately bid her bye.
She hid her anxiousness from Merkin as she hastened her strides forward, as if she knew where she was headed.
Next, they paid a visit to the drawing room, the solars on the ground floor, even the gate houses and guard rooms—to familiarize herself with the castle.
The reception room and the Great Hall, where her doom began.
Also, they visited the oratory which was exclusively for the members of the Royal family, and also the chapel, which got Marlowe thinking she'd found her favorite spot in the castle.
All glee, she sat for a prayer, praying for her father, and not excluding her already damn fate.
Internally asking the Almighty why He let her fall into such hands…such evil hands.
She knew it was wrong to question the Almighty. Well, according to what her father told her.
He said, everything had their reasons for occurring, and those reasons could be life changing.
Either positively, or negatively.
Recalling his words, Marlowe couldn't help but think, as she looked at the sacred statue in front of her.
What could the reason be for her misfortune?
And how would it affect her life. Positively?...or negatively?
She pondered as she lifelessly stared ahead. As if the answers for her questions were written there.
Lowering her head, she slowly rose before slogging out with Merkin behind her.
Her mood, already sour by the conversation she had with herself in the chapel.
The blazing sun shone down on her with great intensity, but it appeared she didn't notice it.
Merkin was aware that her mind was swallowed up in some thoughts, but she decided on not disturbing her.
They both jerked when the arrival of another maid, Berkel, halted them—as she appeared out of the blue on their way to the library.
"Your Majesty, you have a visitor," Berkel informed immediately, causing a crease on Marlowe's—for some unknown reason—expressionless face, before her vapid gaze instantly brightened like the rise of the sun in the break of dawn.
And without waiting for the maid to continue, Marlowe instantly ran off, lifting up her bulky gown as she raced to the west wing of the Castle—as if knowing her way.
Not paying heeds to the running maids behind her, screaming out their lungs,
"A Queen doesn't run, Your Majesty!!!"