Against All Odds

I crouch outside the closed door to my family’s sitting room and listen to my mother speak in harsh whispers to my father, they’ve been doing this a lot recently.

“We have to do something, John! She hasn’t spoken to us since she was seven! This is ridiculous! We need her to go through with the arrangement, and we can’t do that if she refuses to speak! Find her a new nursemaid, a lady’s maid! We have to do something!” I roll my eyes. She spoke as if I was a pawn, rather than a person.

“You said it yourself. She won’t even speak to us! What makes you think she’ll talk to a stranger?” Father argues. He has a good point. I don’t like to talk. To strangers or otherwise.

“Maybe it’s too hard for her to tell us what’s wrong! Maybe it’ll be easier for her to talk to a stranger. Someone who doesn’t know her. Who won’t judge!” Mother is clearly desperate. While the way she phrased it sounds nice, I know that’s not how it is. Everyone judges. It’s part of life.

“Just”- Father sighs, clearly worn out, lowering his voice just enough that I could barely hear him through the thin door, “-just give her time. If she doesn’t talk, maybe it’s better. Just think about it, she won’t argue, or do anything to anger him. He’ll have a quiet wife. She doesn’t cause us trouble. She does as she’s told. It’ll be a good match regardless if she speaks or not.” I feel the bitter, angry feeling rising into my chest, and up my lungs, the words ready to burst free. But they die in my throat. Just like they’ve been doing for the past decade. There is only one person I have spoken to in all this time, yet I haven’t seen him in almost three years.

My heart pangs as I remember his kind face, and how he would hold me when I was upset and tell me it was alright. I miss him dearly. “What about her vows? How is she to be wed if she doesn’t recite her vows?” Mother points out.

“Astrid, has decided to write her vows. The priest will read them for her. She’s already written them, so all that needs to be done is finish with the wedding preparations.” I hear him slump down into a chair.

“Stubborn girl . . . are you sure we can’t have Isla marry him instead? At least she speaks.” The venom in her voice is evident. My mother hates me. Not that it shocked me anymore. I’ve grown used to it in the short life I’ve lived.

“No, it has to be Astrid. The agreement strictly said the oldest, and she is the oldest.” If I could see him right now, he’d be dragging a hand over his face.

“Fine,” Mother spits out the word, “But she won’t be going by that. It’s so plain, so empty, so… boring. She will go by Vivian.” I blink in confusion at this. Go by a different name? Why? I rather like my name, and its simplicity as mother put it.

“Alright, as long as you leave her alone about speaking, she can be called whatever you like. Come now, let’s get rest. We have to have her fitted for her wedding dress tomorrow.” I could hear their footsteps approaching. Silently, I scramble to my room, and slide under the covers. Mother slams her door, and I close my eyes.

Father walks into my room quietly and sits on my bed. I remain still.

“I know you’re awake Astrid, sit up.” He sounds tired. Not angry.

I sit up and look at him, pleading with my eyes not to go through with this.

“Don’t give me that face, you know I wouldn’t make you do this if there was another way. But we have no choice. It was an agreement that was made for the sake of our kingdom. We can’t break the sacred vow.” He hugs me. I’ve only ever known my Father’s love. My mother has always despised me. There’s not any specific reason. I’m definitely her child. She just hates me. I’ve grown used to it.

I hug him and try to assure myself it will be alright. I’m only marrying a man I’ve never met. No pressure, right?

Wrong.

He releases me, I lie down, allowing him to tuck me in like he did when I was small. He kisses my hair and says goodnight, before closing my door. I wait until I’m sure he’s asleep before I climb out of bed to put on my shoes. Securing my cloak around my shoulders, I push open my window, and reach for the tree right outside my window to climb up onto the roof of my family’s house in the capital. We lived about a half hours walk from the magnificent castle I could see looming in the distance, towering above everything. The moons light making the towers glisten like pearls. I lie down with my head resting on my arm like a pillow, watching the stars twinkle and shine in the chilly autumn night, much preferring the sky to the ominous castle. I’ve always felt at peace outside, under the blanket of stars. Its expanse of dark blue, dotted with bits of light compelling me to join them.

I must have watched the stars for hours, for the next time I opened my eyes, I see the sun rising in the distance. Cursing myself mentally, I climb back inside my room, take off my cloak, and slip down the stairwell, giving a nod to the cook, before starting breakfast. As long as I stay busy, my mother won’t pay me so much mind.

I hear the soft shuffling of feet and glance up to see Isla. My sister, a whopping age of fifteen, two years younger than I, looking radiant although she just woke up. Her fuzzy hair, a soft rose gold, frames her gentle and kind face, her pretty eyes sparkle like emeralds, the vibrancy so startling, you’d think you were looking at jewels. My Father’s eyes.

“Morning Azzie!” She skips over and wraps her arms around me.

I return her hug and stroke her hair. I release and make hand gestures, a language only my sister understands. We made it up together.

“I slept well, thank you for asking. What are you making for breakfast?” She tilts her head.

My hands move in a blur, I’m making the little breakfast cakes she likes so much. Her eyes light up. “Oh Azzie, thank you!” She squeals in delight. I smile.

“You know you’re getting fitted today, right? For your wedding?” She hops onto the table beside me and swings her dangling legs.

I make a face, signing something that would make an old woman’s ears bleed if such things were spoken aloud.

“Astrid! You heathen!” She giggles.

I shrug and serve her the breakfast cakes. She eats excitedly, and I finish making Mother and Father’s portions.

When Mother comes down, she eyes me distastefully, and snatches the platter her food is on, nearly spilling it. She sits down next to Isla, her favorite and most dotted on child, and asks her how she slept. I ignore Mother, being used to her moods. Father comes in and smiles, and ruffles my hair, which looks like it was dipped in the sunset, as he often told me.

“Morning Papa!” Isla waved him over, and he grabbed his plate and sat with them.

“Morning Isla,” He smiled at her and started eating.

“Papa, won’t you invite Astrid to eat with us? She made breakfast after all.” Isla politely pointed this out, yet I shrank back, lowering my eyes to the floor.

“She is just fine where she is.” Mother glared at me. I made my own plate. I would rather eat raw lamb before I willingly sit next to her at the table.

“Well if she gets to stand, then so do I.” She grabs her plate and comes to stand by me, a dimpled smile spreading across her face.

I look at her in horror. What was she thinking? She knew how mother felt about me, so why risk her anger?

I nervously glanced at mother, regretting it immediately. I could feel the seething anger from ten houses away, even that might not be enough. I set my food aside, and signed to my sister, saying I had no appetite and wished to get ready before we went out to get me fitted for my gown. I walk quickly to my room and shut the door behind me. That girl is going to get me skinned one day.

I heave a sigh and change into my sky-blue gown, and braided my hair, and put on my shoes. I looked in the mirror and examined my sun kissed skin. I was always outside. The blue of my gown sharply contrasted to my stark blue eyes, inherited from my mother. I felt like my eyes always had a storm in them despite how clear they were. Then again, I notice many more things than others since I don’t speak. I check that everything is in place one last time before I wrap my braid in a bun and secure it. I deem my work satisfactory and walk back to the dining room. My father was already dressed, though he wasn’t coming with us, being the King’s brother, he would go to my Uncle and advise him today on the peace treaty between the two nations that would soon be united through marriage. My marriage. The Queen couldn’t bear any daughters to wed the neighboring kingdom, so they chose me, the King’s niece, to wed the Crown Prince of our neighboring kingdom and finally end this eight-year-long war. Though it had only been eight years, there was immeasurable damage done to both sides. It was only six months ago when the offer of marriage and the cease-fire arrived did we see the extent to both sides.

I supposed I should be excited; most girls would give their right arm and an eye to be in my situation. Marry the Crown Prince, become a Princess, and later yet a Queen. I only felt resigned.

Winnie, my nursemaid since I was but one week old, came in and smiled. “Morning little bird.” She came over to inspect my handy work and nodded in approval. “You’ve done well little bird. You’ve done well.” She cupped my face in her hands and gave me a light pat on the cheek.

I smiled at her and nodded. Winnie, although she is far past her fortieth, is stunning, as if she still hasn’t quite lost the flower of her youth.

I was too old for a nurse maid, so Winnie usually helped Isla, but we enjoy each other’s company. She’s more a friend than anything to me.

Winnie wrapped me in an embrace, causing my mother to clear her throat as she strode in. Winnie dropped her arms and backed up, her face turning from bright and open, to blank and empty, as was the usual when Mother was around.

“About time. You’re too slow Astrid. Come on we need to get you fitted.” She storms outside. I follow, putting a hand up to shield my eyes from the sun. The village is bustling with activity, and the smell of cinnamon apple bread fills my nose and makes my mouth water. I start drifting towards the smell but one sharp glance from my mother stops me. I rush to her side like a scolded dog, “You’re fat enough, don’t make it worse. The Prince will not marry a pig!”

I nod and follow her away from the pastries my stomach growling. We reach the Castle, and I gave a small wave to the castle page boy, who led us inside to a spare sitting room where a woman with rich black hair and a big smile greets us.

“Hello, I’m Lisanna! Which one of you fine young ladies needs a dress today” she eyed the two of us, assessing our frames and statures.

“My daughter, Vivian, is to marry the Prince of Gaia, and we need to have her fitted and have her dress made, we heard you were the best in town, so here we are. Can you help us?” Mother places her hands gently on my shoulders, guiding me towards Lisanna. She acts like the perfect mother in public.

“What a lucky lady you are! Of course, I’ll do it! Come on over and stand on this stool and hold out your arms, I’ll make sure that Prince of yours doesn’t know what hit him!” She takes my hand and leads me into the back, picking up a spool of string, she unravels it and lifts my arm up to measure it. She snips the string when it reaches my wrist. She does the same with my arms and legs, using a different colored string for each body part. I hold still and move when she says to.

She takes the strings and leaves, only to come back a few minutes later with bundles of fabric stacked in her arms. She lays them out and beckons my mother over. They discuss my features and what colors would best match my skin. They settle on velvet fabric, then chose an ivory color. The tailor collects payment and smiles at us.

“I should be finished with the dress in a weeks’ time. I also want to decorate the dress with a few beads. Nothing too fancy, but it will be befitting of a future Queen. It’ll be my best work yet!” She beams at us, and my mother thanks her. I just nod. I’m not excited. At all.

I leave the room and start down the corridor past my cousin’s study. He’s not here though. He’s in Gaia, preparing a meeting with my future husband in place of my uncle, who had just left this morning with the rest of my four cousins. I supposed they wanted to make a good impression on my future in laws before the wedding. I wandered past the garden into the orchard of trees. I let my hand skim the wilting bluebells as I pass, sighing again for what feels the millionth time this week, I really don’t want to marry the Prince. I’d rather be a nun, spending my life in the service of a god, who seems to have forsaken my life for the sake of peace. I lean against a tree and let the wind blow gently across my face. I feel so at home here in the garden. It’s comforting, and it eases my throbbing head. It made me feel free, even though soon I would be very much trapped.

I count in my head how many days are left until I’m to marry and grimace. Twenty days. Twenty horrible wretched days until I would marry a man whom I’ve never met. I wondered for the eighty-ninth time how much trouble I would be in if I ran away.

The trees dance in the wind, as I take a deep breath of the crisp cold air. I stroke the dying bluebells one last time, before regretfully turning and walking back inside. Mother would have a fit if I didn’t come back soon.

I stop outside the door, and peer inside. Seeing my mother and the tailor discussing the details of my dress, I roll my eyes and walk in.

“What are you looking for miss?” Lisanna asks as I search the room for some parchment. I find some and grab the ink and quill I saw on my way in and scribble on the parchment. I hand it to my mother so she can read it over.

Her face struggles to stay motherly as she looks at me, “Of course dear, you can go home if you wish, we only needed you for measurements anyway!” I translate what she said with the look in her eyes and know had it been only us she would have yelled at me.

As I exit once more I hear the tailor ask, “Why doesn’t she speak?”

I can hardly restrain myself as I walk quickly away from the castle. That walk soon turns into a sprint. Soon enough I start to run, my legs ache, lungs begging for air. I don’t stop running. I run as if the hounds of hell are at my heels, nipping and biting, clawing at my feet. I run past my house, Isla, who is outside weaving a basket, sees me as I run past, and calls out to me, “Azzie! Where are you going?!”

I don’t even look back.

I can’t do it. I can’t stay here. I can’t marry that Prince. I won’t.

I will live, unfettered by forced marriage.

I will find my own happiness.

I will live free.