Chapter V: Origins

"Your majesty, wait!" Martha's voice echoed as she walked through the hall. She didn't want to listen to her. She walked into her room and immediately flung herself the bed.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she didn't let them. She lay her head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

The door opened. Martha rushed into the room. "The elder said…"

"To hell with the elder!" She screamed, leaping off the bed, "You must be happy, aren't you? Your little boyfriend has won! But let me tell you, Martha, he'll never love you! He's a prince, and you're a servant. And if he wins, he'll be wedded to me, not you!"

"I just think he's the best choice for you, I didn't mean any harm," she mumbled.

Charissa sighed, realizing that she overreacted. She held Martha's shoulders gently and stared into her timid blue eyes. "I know you didn't mean any harm, it's just that I do not want to be with him! But the elders don't care, they just want me out of their way."

"But he's so handsome," she whined.

"Yes he is, but beauty is only a skin deep. One day, you'll realize that."

The door opened once more. A furious Alphonse marched into the room. "What is the meaning of this, Laurel? Do you know what you've done?"

Charissa raised her chin, refusing to back down. "I am well aware of what I have done, elder. I do not wish to see a man I despise win. And also, don't call me that again. My name is Charissa, not Laurel!"

The elder stared at her with wide eyes. "You're becoming bolder, I give you credit for that. But you should know our place."

"And you should know your place too!" She shouted, "I am a royal, you're just an old man. Now leave me be! This conversation is over."

Alphonse chuckled lightly. "This discussion isn't over yet, Charissa. I expect to see you at the town square tomorrow. You will congratulate the winner of the next trial and get married to the winner of the tournament."

"I'm not coming to the town square, I am ill."

"You seemed fine this afternoon."

"It doesn't matter because, at this moment, I feel nauseous."

Tired of her bickering, he left her alone. When he left, Martha entered the room. She didn't notice when she left in the first place.

Martha held out a handkerchief. "Are you okay, your majesty?"

"I'm fine," she said, taking it. She wiped her face with the handkerchief and handed it back to her. She closed her eyes as she lay her head on her pillow.

"Don't you want to change out of the dress, your majesty?"

"Oh yes!"

She bolted out of the bed and changed into a simple green garment. She sat on the bed once more. Martha was staring inquisitively at her.

"What's wrong Martha?"

"It's pretty," she mumbled.

"What?"

"Your name. I didn't know it was Laurel. Why does everyone call you Charissa."

She chuckled as she turned to face Martha. "It's a long story, and a boring one also."

"Make it short and intriguing," she smiled. Charissa laughed lightly.

"Once upon a time," she began, "There was a king and a queen…"

"Of Sparta?" She interrupted.

"Yes, of Sparta. Now the king and…"

"Wait, are they your parents?"

Her brows furrowed. "Yes, they are my parents. Now will you stop interrupting?"

She nodded in delight, her pigtails bouncing. Charissa sighed once more. "The king was well, very successful. He had armies, he had arsenals, he had servants…" she said, her hands moving with her words, "But he was well, proud. I mean, he had every reason to be proud. What is that thing they say?" she said, holding her chin.

"Two rights can't make a wrong?"

"No, not that…"

"If a man hurts you, smash his head with a stone?"

"No, not that either…"

"Fishes don't grow on trees?"

She stared at Martha, arching her brows. "Seriously?"

She shrugged. Charissa's eyes dazzled with delight. "I remember, if you got it, flaunt it!"

"Who says that?" She said, staring at the curled-up princess.

"Who says, 'Fishes don't grow on trees?'"

"I do," she clapped.

Charissa rolled her eyes and continued, "So, this king was proud. Like prouder than proud. He dishonored the gods…"

"HE DID WHAT?"

She quickly covered her ears. "You mind warning me next time you decide to scream?"

Martha blushed. "Sorry."

"Right. So he does that, and they get mad. His wife allegedly gave birth to forty-nine children, but they all died in infancy."

"That's sad," she sulked.

Charissa slowly nodded as she said, "Yes, it is very sad."

"What happened next?"

"It didn't take much time for him to realize that something was off. He went to the oracle, begging for forgiveness."

"Was he forgiven?"

She chuckled. "If he wasn't forgiven, I wouldn't be standing here today. He was forgiven and they had their fiftieth child, me."

"That doesn't explain why you changed your name."

"I may have been their child, but they didn't care about me. I was raised by my aunt, who called me Charissa. The name just kinda stuck."

Martha stretched. "I should go to the kitchens, princess."

"Goodbye."

She watched Martha's figure as she swayed out of the room. She stretched on the bed, suddenly feeling lighter. The sun was setting, the sky was painted with shades of orange. She sighed softly, falling into a deep sleep.

She was running in the gardens, playing with the butterflies. They were beautiful, their wings creating a symphony of moving colors. She loved the blue one, she stopped to admire it when it landed on the daffodils. She reached to grab it but stopped when she saw something move in the bushes. She ran towards it, wanting to know what was there. Pushing the leaves aside, she saw it was a bird with a broken wing. Her heart softened. She lifted the bird gently, cradling it in her arms. She froze when she heard her name

"Laurel!"

She knew it was her mother calling. She would be furious if she saw her there. But it was too late to hide, she had already walked into the gardens. Her eyes were filled with fury as she stared at her tiny figure.

"What are you doing here?" She said.

"I was…"

Her mother saw the bird in her hand. "What is that?"

"I saw it in the bushes, it's injured."

She dragged the bird out of her hand. "You can't be playing around with this thing."

She threw the bird on the grass. It hit the floor with a thud. She stared at the bird as her mother pulled her out of the garden. It was still alive. She told herself she would come back for it.

Later that evening, she snuck into the gardens. She saw the bird still on the grass. She quietly picked the bird up and ran to her room. She spent the next few weeks in her room, tending to the bird's wing. It healed faster than she expected, so she decided to keep it. She was feeding the bed when the door opened.

"Aunt Penelope!" She squealed, running towards the lady. She lifted her, placing her on her shoulders. She finally dropped the squealing child.

"Charissa dear, your mother says you haven't come out of your room for some weeks now. Is everything…wait, what's that in your hand?"

"It's a bird, mother won't let me…"

"There you are, Penelope."

She flinched when she saw her mother walk into the room. "What is that? Don't tell me you took the bird!"

"Mother, I…"

She flung the bird out of her hands, walking towards the fireplace. "Delphinia, calm down," Penelope begged. She ignored her pleas and tossed the bird into the flames. Charissa watched in horror as the bird burnt right before her eyes. She couldn't cry, it would only get her in more trouble. Her mother dragged her out of the room, tossing her on the hard marble floor.

"No more silly games Laurel, you're going to be queen one day. Queens don't dress up, they rule and conquer. You can't get distracted, not now."

She timidly nodded. Mother walked away, leaving her in the hallway. She got up and walked into the room. Soon, the fire went out. She gathered the ashes, putting them in a jar. She placed it in her drawer, she would take care of it later. She reflected on what her mother said, she couldn't be weak. She would have to be strong, for her people.