The musings of a princess locked up in a tower
|The wolves are howling again.
God damn it.
You'd think after twenty years of being locked up in a tower in the middle of the woods, I'd be used to this.
Oh, you need a little more back story? It's actually nothing extraordinary - just your average princess cursed as a baby and forced to stay safe in a tower story. I hear one of those every other month now.
Society, I tell you. Why didn't anyone curse my brother when he was a baby and lock him up? These witches need to up their game to the next gender, in my opinion.
Anyways, life is pretty boring when all you've ever seen are the walls of this tower. No exit doors. No escape. A dragon waiting outside to make kebabs out of any one who, by some flawed use of judgement, tries to rescue me.
Who am I kidding? No one's tried to rescue me, so far. That dragon is probably as bored out of his wits as I am.
The mystical birds do bring letters from the family every month. Mother's are the most boring. She's forever trying to explain lady like behaviour and a woman's role. I skip through most of them. Yawn.
And then there's father, urging me to 'exercise' and stay fit. I guess he's trying to up my image to prospective princes.
So what if I'm a little plump? It happens when you're frigging locked up inside a tower!
Not to mention, you locked me up in here with a magic kitchen that conjures up any food that I'm craving.
Thanks for that, by the way, Aunty Melissa. You're the coolest witch I know. Your letters with the gossips and scandals are the ones that keep me the most sane.
Those, and letters from brother about how he fancies his stable boy. Actually, I think it's more of head over heels in love. It's nice that he trusted me with such a big secret. Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that I have no means to communicate with the outside world. He just trusts me.
Sigh. I can't get back to sleep now.
I don't understand how all these other princesses do it. From what mother tells me, they're all rosy cheeked and as pretty as peaches and as graceful as swans when they're rescued.
There are some nights I hope I don't get rescued at all. Because the thought of riding into the sunset with a random stranger doesn't really appeal to me. What if he turns out to be a narcissistic ass?
Even if he were solid, love of my life material, do I really want to start a committed relationship with him? I mean, don't I deserve to go out there and live my life and make my own mistakes before settling down?
Maybe I'm destined to stay locked up in here all my life. I'll probably die an old maiden, with nothing to leave behind besides my diaries. Detailing my extremely boring life. Wouldn't that be the buzz of the town.
Oh screw it. I'm awake now. I think I'll just make myself a midnight snack. These periods are giving me awful stomach cramps, anyways.
I hear noises outside. It's a sword. And footsteps.
Oh my god.
Why isn't the dragon putting up a fight? Is it actually sleeping through my rescue?
I'm being rescued?
I'm being rescued!
The door's opening! Oh my god. Oh my god.
It's my MOTHER?!
'Enough is enough, Genevieve. You're coming back home.'