Isis had a dream. An odd dream. A nightmare of sorts. Though the odd thing about it was that Isis had never had a nightmare before. Not as a baby, not as a child and certainly not as a young adult. Isis felt like she was being suffocated and clawed at from the inside out. She left like there was fire inside her belly, like a dragon getting ready to scorch an unfortunate knight. Though she made no indication to the outside world about her nightmare as she slept. No whimpers, no mumbling, no wiggling around in the bed. Because if she had, Julius would’ve noticed right away and either comforted her in her sleep, or woken her up. But either way, Isis was still having the nightmare. There was everything. Demons coming out of her body, falling down high places, Julius leaving her for a presumably better woman. Though Isis didn’t make a single noise, the turmoil she was experiencing from the dream was incomprehensible. However when she awoke in a cold sweat, she knew something was different. Very different. But what, Isis didn’t know.
The weather was dreary. A constant drizzle of cold rain fell from the heavens above as the two ate their breakfast. Isis was tired and still a bit shaken from her nightmare and made little effort to converse with Julius, making him worry about her.
“Isis, are you okay? Did something happen last night?” Julius asked, worriedly. Isis looked back at him, his eyes were full of sincerity and nervousness. Isis stayed silent, she didn’t quite know how to respond. Obviously she couldn’t tell Julius about her nightmare, she didn’t want to make him worry about her sleeping patterns being messed up, but she also knew she couldn’t lie. Julius always knew when she was lying. She never knew how he could tell when she lied to him, but she assumed it was something to do with her body language or facial expressions. But Isis took a shot.
“I’m fine, just a bit tired is all.” She replied calmly. She sipped at her tea cup to cover her face so he wouldn’t be able to see any oddities. Julius stared at her, his face unconvinced.
“Are you sure? I can-”
“I promise, I’m fine.” Isis stated, cutting him off. She smiled at him, her grins were like the sun to Julius and she knew he could never resist pestering her more about it if she flashed him a grin. Julius gave her a weak smirk back.
“Whatever you say my dear, whatever you say.”
With their breakfast finished, they both stood. Julius went over and gave Isis a quick kiss on her cheek before dashing away to go to his study. Isis waved goodbye to him and went to her own study to resume the letter sorting. But as she began to sort through the letters, she felt bad for snapping at Julius like that. She knew he meant well and all but she was tired of being worried for. She felt bad for snapping at him like that, and decided to apologize to him during lunch.
She sifted through and responded to letters of different sorts, requests for financial aid from many noble parties and a few small towns going through a drought. She of course approved the requests for the towns needing money for food and water, however, she was going to look into the noble’s requests more thoroughly, making sure that they weren’t just trying to steal money from the capitol. She wrote and wrote until the tip of her quill had dulled with use. And as Gladis went to fetch her a new one, Isis went back into her thoughts. Looking out the window of her study, she thought about how she would apologize, would she just say sorry to him, or would she need to give him something more than that. Isis shivered ever so slightly at her unsultry thoughts about her, Julius and her apology. Gladis came back through the door quickly, startling poor Isis out of her daydream, blushing like a madman.
“Princess, are you… Okay?” Gladis asked her, handing her a new sharp quill and a fresh pot of ink.
“N-no, I’m fine Gladis, just a little surprised is all.” Isis coughed, trying to hide her embarrassment. She was glad that no one could read her mind and spread her naughty thoughts around the palace, though she knew it would make for good gossip among the maids. Isis could hear it all now.
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“Did you hear that Princess Isis was dreaming of his Majesty in bed!”
“I did! But you haven’t even heard the half of it, she said she wanted him to…” Isis shivered involuntarily at the conversation she had envisioned. Shaking her head as if to fling away the thoughts. She needed to work, to be productive, a country doesn't stop for just one person’s turmoil. Isis gratefully accepted the quill and ink pot before setting both items down on her desk. She sat in her chair and pulled herself up to the table. Grabbing the quill she began to write to the Minister of Park Lon. The minister of Park Lon was a thicker man with round cheeks and a fat head, he had the body of an apple and the appetite of a full grown horse. Isis disliked the man. He was always too touchy with debutante girls at the balls he had been invited to, Isis had to deal with him at her own debutante ball, though Julius had been there as her escort, Isis still had to fend him off herself. Not only that but he smelled like the stable. And not the attractive “I’ve been working all day” kind of musk many common ladies were attracted to these days, but a stink. An actual stink that Isis had remembered well, just as some remember the stench of a rotting cadaver. The Minister had written to the Empress about attending his own daughter’s debutante ball, Isis had no idea that the Empress and the Minister had been such close friends as for him to be able to write to her freely.
The letter wrote that he would love for the Empress to attend his daughter’s debutante ball this upcoming spring. When Isis looked at the paper’s date, she read that this letter had been sent recently. Meaning that the Minister’s daughter was having her ball soon. As Isis read on she realized that the girl’s ball wasn’t just soon, it was next month! Isis sighed, she hated being around that dirty Minister but she knew it was the right thing to do. Mingling with others secures strong ties and good allegiances. Isis had a deep hatred of socializing with the stuck up and spoiled nobles her age who only wanted to get into her pockets, or under her skirt. Isis picked up her quill again and began to reply to the Minister. She unfortunately would have to attend this ball. It was a good idea to have her face be known a little better. Isis did have a debutante ball, but she only danced once with Julius and they both had scampered off to look at the fireflies out in the garden. Isis’s mother had been furious with her that night. But it was worth it.
“Gladis, can you tell Julius that the Minister of Park Lon is holding a debutante ball and that we have to attend?” Isis told Gladis. Gladis nodded and hurried away to relay the message.
Isis slumped back into her chair, grabbing an envelope and some wax pellets. She slid the letter into the envelope and started to heat up the wax via an open candle on her desk. Once that wax had melted, she poured it over the opening of the letter, stamping the envelope shut. She stood up and placed the letter in her out box just beside the study door. Mrs. Mingle picked up her letters everyday at six p.m. sharp, never late and certainly never early either. As mid morning approached, Isis already felt drained. Drained of energy, both physically and mentally. Isis made up her mind about apologizing to Julius. She was just going to say sorry. And if that didn’t work, she’d have to do more than just apologizing, but she hoped she wouldn’t need to use such tactics. She thought that it was playing dirty, both in the bedroom, and to her morals. Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly at the thought. She slapped her cheeks with her hands and calmed herself down. She needed to work and not daydream about Julius like that. She was supposed to be pure as the color white and not as desperate as an infection riddled prostitute. Isis didn’t even want to imagine what she would look like as one. All skinny, probably infected with tuberculosis. Though some thought that having such an illness was attractive. Isis wondered how some could find coughing blood, intense paleness and being only skin and bones like a starving orphan boy could be considered desirable. Isis had heard that many young maidens wanted to be infected with tuberculosis, going so far as to break into the homes of the infected to try and catch it. Isis thought that it was idiotic to try and kill yourself to look ‘pretty’ even though the infected looked like the living dead to Isis. Though some thought that having such an illness was attractive. Isis wondered how some could find coughing blood, intense paleness and being only skin and bones like a starving orphan boy could be considered desirable. Isis had heard that many young maidens wanted to be infected with tuberculosis, going so far as to break into the homes of the infected to try and catch it. Isis thought that it was idiotic to try and kill yourself to look ‘pretty’ even though the infected looked like the living dead to Isis.
Isis trembled, trying to shake away the ghastly image. She looked outside the window to see that the weather was still just as dreary as it was that morning. She sighed, not wanting to deal with the mud and wet that was outside even though she desperately wanted to go for a walk. Isis had been cooped up inside the palace walls for two days, and she was starting to get a bit homesick. She missed her room, her sister, her mom - even though she was rather hard on Isis, she still loved her more than words could ever express. Though Isis was being pampered here in the palace, she liked to do things on her own. Do it her way. She loved being independent, bathing herself, dressing herself, heck, she even liked cooking for herself when she wanted a midnight snack. But now, all the maids, butlers, and cooks did all the work for her. All she could do was “sit still and look pretty.” Isis had heard that phrase from her late father many times before.
“Always let the man do the work, a lady should learn to sit and be proper.” Isis remembered his voice well, condescending and passive aggressive. Isis disliked her father. She could never say that she hated him, he had let her do many things that the other noble maidens could not. Like wield a sword, and learn archery. And Isis sure did love those activities. Not every maiden in the world liked to shoot animals and fight knights, but Isis sure did. But besides the fact she liked to hunt, she was no different from any other maiden out there. Well, except for her curly locks of hair. Isis never knew where she got her curly hair from, all she knew is that it was a pain to deal with. Always resisting her, becoming tangled with the slightest gust of wind or frizzing with any kind of humidity or moisture. It drove Isis crazy.
Isis wrote the letter, dotting her I’s and crossing her T’s. Making the letter all nice and ready to be sent off. Isis wrote so many letters that day her wrist began to hurt. Like a sore and heavy feeling that would sting if she so much as twitched it. But Isis knew she couldn’t take a break. Not yet at least. She still had a good hour and a half before she and Julius were to meet in the tea room for lunch. She was anxious about it, not that she thought Julius was upset with her for getting angry. She was anxious because she didn’t know how to apologize to him. She knew that she was in the wrong for getting upset with him this morning when he just wanted to see if she was okay. She felt poorly about the whole situation, it was eating her up inside. She had no reason to lash out at him like that. And now that she had calmed down, she realized that she was definitely in the wrong.
Isis set her letter in the letter collection tray and watched the clock strike 3 p.m. The thing she had been dreading, meeting with Julius for tea, had finally approached. She felt anxious, like her heart was in her throat and her stomach twisted into knots that could never be untied. She walked down to the tea room, hesitating to open the door to the room. She knew that Julius was waiting for her inside, but she didn’t know if she had the guts to even enter. She had never raised her voice to him before, even when they had gotten into spats as children. She was always level headed and calm during arguments, using her witt and logical thinking skills to prevail over every dispute. But somehow, she mustered up the courage to open the door and walk in. Her cheeks were fiery from guilt and they flushed a bright crimson as she headed over to the table where Julius sat. He looked rather glum, making Isis’ guilt grow even more. She thought of something to say, but before she could even speak, Julius had started.
“Did I… Upset you, Isis?” He asked timidly, she was taken aback by his forwardness. She had been dreading this all day long, but he had just said it so easily that it baffled Isis.
“N-No! Of course not!” She yelped, standing up.
“I’m in the wrong, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that!” She apologized. Julius looked baffled, he didn’t understand why Isis was the one apologizing. He thought that he was in the wrong for pressing her for answers. But, Isis also felt that she was in the wrong for getting angry. But, the misunderstanding had just gotten out of hand, and the two now felt embarrassed about the whole situation.
The two sat in an awkward silence, the only noise being the sipping of tea or the occasional breath from Isis as she cooled her tea down. Neither of them wanted to talk, too embarrassed by their misunderstanding. Gladis stood in the doorway, sickened by the thick tension in the room. It was so dense that she could even see the dust in the air around them shiver and shake. But neither of them had the courage to break the silence. Glaids waited, and waited, and waited some more, but neither of the two spoke up and Gladis was practically drowning. Gladis coughed some to try and get Isis’ attention. But once that didn’t work, she coughed again, and again, and again, and then some, until her throat was raw. This alarmed Isis and Julius, thinking that Gladis could’ve gotten sick. The two looked at one another for a few seconds before catching on to what Gladis was trying to convey. Once they understood, they broke out into laughter, filling the room with their giggles and chuckles. Isis even started to tear up from laughing so hard.
“Sorry Gladis,” Isis started. “We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She giggled.
“Yes, our apologies, Gladis.” Julius added, his smile wide and toothy.
When the two finally stopped laughing, their bellies sore from all the movement. It was already high time they went back to work. The two solemnly parted ways and Gladis was finally able to breathe again. As Isis and Gladis made their way back to the study, Isis felt relieved that this didn’t spark any major conflicts between them, even if it was just a tiny misunderstanding that got out of hand. Isis knew what misunderstandings could lead to; wars, death, destruction. She had seen it with the Tuniviva and Srima famine conflict that had happened a few years ago. Isis was living on the border at the time, her father was an esteemed general in the Nedid military. She had seen the horrors, bodies piling up, disease riddled battle camps. She hated seeing things like that, it made her sick to her stomach. Isis never wanted to see or think of such things again, though she knew it was mandatory to think about the soldiers if they even went to war while she and Julius were married. But that was a problem for future Isis. And a problem, it might just be.
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