It was a far cry from the palace she’d grown up in; cramped, dirty, sometimes even smelly.
It was a far cry from the palace she’d grown up in; cramped, dirty, sometimes even smelly. But in a way, she liked it more; it was somehow more real. Intense. Alive. For the first time since she was corseted into the life of a Princess, she felt truly alive. But with the treat of the revolutionaries catching her at any moment, she had to keep a low profile. No one would dream of finding her in a grubby, almost abandoned house. The world was falling into chaos, and through the dirty windows she could see the people trudging dissolutely through the cold streets. Food was hard to come by, with the Rebels comandeering provisions, and the fighting between cities cutting off supply. The hunger made the bread and potatoes taste so much better than the meals at the palace. She was smart enough to realize everyone was worried she was too much of a princess, and wouldn’t appreciate what was being done for her. The risks they were taking. Just speaking a kind word of the KIng could get you shot in the street. It was chaos, and she was on the wrong side of the lines. But there wasn’t anything she could do to repay their kindness, except be the Princess they were all protecting. She was their hope that beyond the hunger, the cold, the cruelty and the war…something was worth fighting for. So she dressed up. It was hard getting everything to fit and match, but she was surprised to learn that when food was scarce, clothes were an affordable luxury. Clothes, after all, couldn’t be eaten. But there was someone she owed a lot more too, the only person who was allowed to see that beneath the veneer of Royal heir, there was a woman; strong and fragile, tired and inexhaustable, confused and confidant. If it was her job to give hope to everyone else…who then gave her hope? -- source link
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