Burning survival

A Prisoner at home

Iris watched from the confines of her room, her eyes glued to the windowpane as the carriages arrived, their wheels rumbling over the cobblestone courtyard like thunder on a summer's day. The king of Evelon had arrived with his party, their fine silks and velvets a riot of color against the dull stone walls of the palace. The sound of laughter and music drifted up from below, mingling with the scent of fresh horses and the acrid tang of coal smoke from the torches that lined the courtyard.

It had been a week since Iris was allowed to step out of her room, a week of endless days and sleepless nights, her mind racing with thoughts of escape and freedom. She had tried many times, her determination and desperation driving her to attempt the impossible.

She remembered the first time she tried to escape, her heart racing with excitement as she slipped out of the window and dropped down to the courtyard below. She had landed hard on the cobblestones, skinning her knee and bruising her elbow, but she had scrambled to her feet and taken off in a sprint, her long hair streaming behind her like a banner. But she hadn't gotten far, the guards catching up to her just as she reached the palace gates. They had gently but firmly taken her by the arms, their faces apologetic but firm. "Your Highness, please," one of them had said, his voice soft but commanding. "You must return to your room." They had escorted her back, their grip on her arms gentle but unyielding.

The second time she tried to escape, she had attempted to pick the lock on the door. She had spent hours studying the mechanism, her fingers nimble and quick as she worked the lock. But just as she was about to turn the handle, she heard the sound of footsteps outside her room. The guards had caught her, their faces concerned but firm. "Your Highness, you must not try to escape," one of them had said, his voice gentle but firm. "It is not safe." They had taken her by the arms, leading her back to her room, their grip gentle but unyielding.

The third time she tried to escape, she had tricked Raya, her loyal handmaid, into leaving the door unlocked. Iris had waited until Raya was distracted, then she had slipped out of the room, her heart racing with excitement. She had made it all the way to the palace gardens, the cool night air a welcome respite from the stifling heat of her room. But just as she was about to reach the garden gates, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. The guards had caught up to her, their torches casting flickering shadows on the ground. They had gently but firmly taken her by the arms, leading her back to her room, their faces apologetic but firm. "Your Highness, please," one of them had said, his voice soft but commanding. "You must not try to escape. It is not safe."

Iris sighed as she felt it almost comical - she had climbed trees and fought beasts in the forest, facing down danger with a fierce determination, but she was unable to escape a room. The thought was almost too much to bear, and she felt a wave of resignation wash over her. She lay down on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as she let out a deep breath.

She had tried to apologize to her mother, the queen, but even that had been denied her. The queen had refused to see her, had forbidden even her sisters, the other princesses, from visiting her. Iris felt a pang of sadness and loneliness at the thought. She was truly alone, cut off from the rest of the world and forced to endure her punishment in solitude. she stood up and looked at her handmaid who had finished pouring the tea.

"Oh, Raya, I am a prisoner in my own home," Iris declared, her voice dripping with drama as she let out a theatrical groan. She threw her arm over her eyes, as if the weight of her own misery was too much to bear.

Raya, who had been holding out a delicate china cup filled with steaming hot tea dropped it on the table, and looked at her with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Your Highness, perhaps it would be best if you sat up and had your tea," she suggested gently, trying to coax Iris out of her dramatic pose.

Iris's voice rose to a dramatic crescendo as she declared, "I'll starve myself to death! I'll waste away to nothing, a mere shadow of my former self, all because my own mother has abandoned me!" She flung her arm over her eyes again, her chest heaving with exaggerated sighs.

Raya looked on, a mixture of worry and exasperation on her face. "Your Highness, please," she said gently, trying to reason with Iris. "You must eat something. You can't go on like this." But Iris was beyond reason, lost in her own dramatic world of woe and despair.

Iris's voice grew weaker, her words slurred as she pretended to feel faint. "No, Raya... let me wither in peace... my entire family hates me..." She trailed off, her body limp and still, as if she were indeed on the verge of collapse.

Raya's expression turned from exasperation to concern, and she took a step forward, her hands reaching out to support Iris. "Your Highness, please... don't say such things..." But Iris didn't respond, lost in her own dramatic world.

Meanwhile, the door to the room had swung open, and a figure stood in the doorway, watching the scene unfold. The queen's silhouette was imposing, her presence commanding attention. But Iris, caught up in her own theatrics, failed to notice her mother's arrival. The queen's eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on her daughter's prone form. For a moment, she said nothing, her expression unreadable.

Raya's eyes darted to the queen, and she tried to warn Iris, her voice low and urgent. "Your Highness, please... the queen..." But Iris was too far gone, lost in her own melodramatic world.

She didn't even flinch, didn't even acknowledge Raya's warning. Instead, she continued to declaim, her voice growing louder and more dramatic. "Alas, I will soon be free of this wretched life! I will ascend to paradise, where I will be welcomed with open arms! Tell my mother... tell her I love her, but it was not meant to be..." Iris's voice cracked with fake emotion, and she let out a mournful sigh, her chest heaving with exaggerated sorrow.

The queen's expression remained stern, as she let out a dry, amused cough, her eyes never leaving her daughter's dramatic form. "I think you'll find, Raya, that there's no need to tell me anything," she said, her voice dripping with wry humor. "I've seen it all myself. The theatrics, the dramatics... it's all a bit too familiar, isn't it, Iris?" The queen's gaze pinned her daughter to the bed, her eyes sparkling a silent date to continue her words. Iris felt her heart skip a beat, how long had her mother been there?

Iris's dramatic pose was instantly forgotten as she sprang up from the bed, her face flushing with embarrassment. She frantically tried to smooth out her rumpled clothes, her hands fluttering over her dress as she attempted to restore some semblance of dignity.

"Mother... when did you arrive?" she stammered, her eyes darting up to meet the queen's amused gaze.