Tears on my Bejeweled Crown

Tears on my Bejeweled Crown - Emma Hall (Acellus Online School, Eighth Grade)

Stars sprinkle across the navy, deep blue sky. They look down on the gathering under  their fiery presence with twinkling eyes filled with amusement. 

There is a legend from the ancient times of Teleios that stars are innocent souls lost in  the grand plague that carved the existence of their nation into fate’s intricate weave. The  legend is that these beings are now reincarnated into the stars themselves. That they have  come to now know the past and the future. And every soul and their deepest secret, from a  lowly criminal to the royalty of Teleios, even the fearsome matriarch. That they can see the  depths of the mermaid lakes and count the number of a farmer’s crops on the mainland. It is  said that everything is held accountable in their eyes, inscribed in their very beings and bodies  that make up the universe.  

They, of course, are right. We do and we always have and will. 

There are shouts bursting from the Mayaliese garden. Giggles taint the air, as children  race around its exotic displays, in the expansive space. The garden looks magnificent today,  the floral scent nearly intoxicating. The garden is decked out in tinsel and covered in twinkling  lights from delicate lanterns. Tables are already set up by servants and tea party food is  sprawled across the tables. Adults and children of the nobility alike are chatting up a storm. If  happiness had a color it would be a myriad of sea green and gold, made from the greens of the  decor and the warmth of their smiles. 

At the center of the festivities is a girl with hair spun of gold and eyes the color of a  forest’s leaves. Children swarm around her as they fight for her attention. Doing anything to be  a part of her special day. 

”Princess Olivette?” A little dark haired girl calls. “We were wondering if you could-“ the  girl blushes as she withdraws a sloppily wrapped present from behind her back, “open our gift  first?” 

”Uh, yeah! Thanks! Are these unicorn combs?! Oh my stars! They are so, sooo pretty!  Where did you find them?” 

”Princess Olivette,” a voice cuts through the glen and her fog of enthusiasm,“it is not  very princess-like to jump up and down and shriek in such a raucous manner. Mind your  manners.” 

Her smile crumbles to dust as she turns and sees the hawk-like gaze of Lord Mawin  reprimanding her. And not for the first time. Sometimes she finds herself wondering if the  courtiers have made a game of her. Perhaps they keep a tally on how many mistakes she  makes a day or ways they successfully schemed to interrupt her moment of reprieve from the  burden thrust upon her shoulders at only nine—or well, ten years old. It’s not really the  courtier's intention of course, but the child does not know these things like we do. All she  knows is of her struggle, her continuous attempts to appease all.  

“What? Oh, right. Sorry.” She says with a shrug, ignoring the sting of humiliation  prickling in her eyes. 

“Your most esteemed ladies and gentleman,” calls the herald slightly mockingly at the  children, taking in grime covered hands, “it is time to sing to the princess. Please take a seat.”

The children quickly rush to their seats, not even bothering to so much as fawn at the elaborate  table decor with its glowing silvery bottles of fireflies, dark petals and teal table cloth. The  princess, with a beaming grin on her face, sits down beside her younger red-headed sister,  Anneliese and her mother.  

“How have you enjoyed your party so far, Olly,” inquires her mother as she dusts off the  princess’s rose colored gown. “Have you found a precise name for your new pet unicorn, yet?” 

”Yes, I named her Prissie! She is sooo cute! We were all taking turns riding her! I just  wish Phuella could be here, but her mom grounded her for swimming in the Shoal Lagoon  unsupervised. Though even if she was I would feel bad that she would not be able to to ride  Prissie. You know? With her gills and tail, and all that.” 

Olivette and Crown Princess Phuella Silver of the mermaids, had been best friends  since before they could walk—or in Phuella’s case swim. They had been introduced to each  other by her mother, the queen in hopes that they would forge a relationship that would last  well into both of their reigns. Queen Andronika was always like this when it came to her rule,  always attempting to plan ahead. And despite the mother and daughter’s looks seeming so  segue, with their strikingly golden hair and leafy green eyes, Olivette could not shake the  feeling that she could not be more different from her. Ever since the princess had been old  enough to walk her mother was constantly molding her into the ideal princess. The perfect  future queen.  

The queen was always saying, since before the crown princess could even walk that:  “Life is like dancing, you either know the steps or you don’t. And Olivette you will not be  among those stumbling around in the dark trying to remember precisely the steps to life’s  meaning,” and other encouraging statements such as; “Failure is not an option for royalty,  Olivette, and do not forget that. Ever.” And she is reminded that every day. Every time she  forgets the nine different members on the dragon council, every time she uses the wrong  dinner fork or slouches. Every time she fails one of her mother’s tests. And every time she  hears that she can’t shake the feeling that she is a failure. That she will never really measure  up. 

“Yes, I can see how that would precisely be an issue. Hopefully, the unicorn won’t  distract you from your studies, right,” her mother inquires. 

”Of course not, mama,” Olivette assures her quietly. 

Chatter begins to quiet down as a magnificent cake is place in front of the princess. Her  mouth begins to salivate as she take in the sight in front of her. Large confections of flowers  and gold piping cover the four layer cake. Golden candles with a purple flame lay waiting on  the top of the cake in the formation of the number ten. Chocolate runs fluidly down the sides in  elegant ribbons and it seems to shine with the purple and blue frosting that is mingling and  clouding together in a plume of color. She could practically smell the sweet scent, and it makes  her taste buds weep with hunger. 

But just as the guests' voices begin to rise in fervor to match the melody of a song, a  strong gust of wind moves through the garden, blowing out the candles. Gasps of  astonishment snuff out the song. A shadow looms, causing the lights to flicker and darkness to  grow all throughout the glen.  

A throaty voice trills and clucks as it says, “Have I missed my invitation?”

There is a collective yelp through out the party that fizzles out as the queen begins to  laugh. Her husband, the Prince Consort Iason, with his mop of dark, curly red hair, and his  youngest daughter has too, follows. Soon enough sounds of merriment erupt all around, as  they turn to the enigmatic presence. A huge dragon, at least twenty feet long with shimmering  silver and turquoise scales touches the forest floor. Its eyes coruscate with humor as she bows  her head in an attempt to cover her own hilarity at her own expense. 

”My dear friend,” greets the matriarch, who stands and walks over to the intimidating  creature, “I am so glad that you made it, Agathos! Especially with how occupied you are with  the telling of the future threads of the world’s tapestry.” Her voice adopts a false falsetto at this. 

The dragoness laughs, a deep rumbling sound. “That is certainly one way to describe  being an oracle, Andronika. It’s definitely sounds a lot more mystical than what the majority of  my kind call me. Now…..where is the birthday girl?” 

”BOO!” The princess jumps out of the shadows and clings to the dragon’s neck with  much fervor, ignorant to the nobility’s frowns that are pasted across their faces upon her doing  this. “Did I scare you this time, Old Aggie?” 

”You were close,” admits that oracle grudgingly, “a little more volume and I would have  torched the place.” This statement elicits horrified gasps from the nobility. Looking annoyed the  dragon hastily clarifies saying, “It would be purely by accident, of course.” 

”Are you jesting, Agathos? You wouldn't really torch the gardens precisely—-“ starts the  queen incredulously. 

”Did you get Olly a present?” Interrupts Annalise abruptly. “Your presents are always the  best and eighty percent of the time they are even better than mama and papa’s. I started  keeping track of the statistics last year! Though I doubt you can outdo mama and papa this  time. They got Olly a unicorn.” 

The dragoness’s snout bends into an overbearing arc, the ends of her mouth twitching  upward. “We shall see about that,” she declares. “Firstly, before we get to the presents, why  don’t we have some cake? I am terribly sorry I interrupted and blew out the candles when I  arrived. Honestly you would think that being two thousand years old I would know better by  now!” 

And with that the dragon and the queen wasted no time in relighting the candles and  restarting the princess’s birthday chorus. The cake tasted equally as delicious as it looked, if  not more. I wish I could have tried some of that buttery, chocolatey cake. Even the most  sanctimonious nobles, who always had their noses in the air, could not help themselves from  admitting how flavorful the cake was. But despite this epically scrumptious distraction Olivette  could not stop herself from ceaselessly wondering about the ancient oracle’s gift. Last year she  had given her a lamp that would tell stories with its rotating shadows and vivid splurges of  colors. And when Annaliese turned eight, last month, she had been generously given a talking  book that every time you opened it would tell a new story. What would she get this time?  

She was almost sure that the suspense would make her go insane her when Agathos  announced that it was time for her gift. 

“Princess, I decided that since you are a bit older now that you should decide what you  want. Have you ever heard of the Tears Of Kaleah,”asks Agathos quietly. 

The princess shook her head, eagerly waiting for the answer. 

“Kaleah was one of the most cunning generals of her time around two thousand years  ago. She was instrumental in freeing your people from the rule of the fairies and restoring your  people’s freedom. Your last name, Cervantes, comes from her. You see Kaleah was the one  who destroyed the Serpdusoe Crystal that was the fairies main magic source and your people’s  greatest obstacle during a battle. In doing so she lost her life, but it is said that she lives on in  the stars. When the first human queen, her daughter Televia from your line was honored with  ruling Teleios it is said that she cried. And her tears are made of stardust that grants wishes,  just as it was her dying wish for humanity to be liberated.These tears were gifted to the people  Teleios, who can find them nestled on the peaks of the highest mountains. Where the sun  touches when it is going down and where the moon greets before all else. 

So, Princess Olivette Ruby Cervantes, my gift to you is a Tear of Kaleah. And with it you  will be granted your dearest wish.” 

It has been two weeks since the princess’s birthday. And she still doesn't have the  slightest clue what she should wish for, much to her rising annoyance. The teardrop crystal sits  on her nightstand where she idly stares at it, her mind split about what to do. Her mother is set  on persuading her to save it….but the wait would be too torturous. She can practically feel the  tear’s want to be used, it must be so boring, for it to lethargically lie around throughout the  centuries. She knew she was just bored even thinking about it. 

Of course everyone she knew provided an endless supply of suggestions. None of  which were helpful in the least. Annaliese had suggested her wishing for a castle made entirely  of candy or to create with it some kind of box that you would input math problems in and it  would automatically give you an answer. As if that would ever be possible. After Princess  Annaliese suggested this again yesterday Olivette had told her snippily that if she kept  pestering her, that the only thing that Olivette would need the Tear for, is to wish that she would  get out of a life sentence after murdering her.  

Annaliese stopped giving her ideas after that. 

Luckily the princess had a great many things to do in the meantime. And….sadly  enough she refers to doing even more tutoring lessons and lectures, since now that she was  older she had to “take more responsibility,” according to her mother at least. According to her  mother, being ten years old is a huge milestone. Which also meant spending more time in  court with snobby nobles. And a large quantity of projects. And reports. And meetings. And  delegations. 

Oh my. 

The princess had started feeling restless with this ruthless combination. The nobles in  Teleios were idealistic and constantly pressured her to endeavor to be more like the queen. Her  mother had been Teleios’s youngest monarch at fourteen, after her parents tragic deaths, at  such a young age she had succeeded in achieving peace with their neighboring countries.  Hence why she married Olivette’s father, Prince Iaason of Nethalda. Technically her father  wasn't king though, he simply did not have that authority as a foreigner. Not that he would  want it. Iaason was a more scholarly man than anything else. 

 But at any rate, the state of global peace is often an achievement that is constantly  awed and credited to her mother. When the princess hears of how incredible everyone thinks  the queen is, she can’t help but feel only trapped. Like she was being thrown into a rushing, 

fast river and told to swim upstream. Knowing she’ll never make it. That she will never be able  to conquer the currents.  

But everyone thinks her mother would.  

No.  

They think she would walk on water, stroll leisurely to her next destination while the  crown princess is drowning in their expectations, dragged underwater by the chains of the  crown. 

It was beginning to become too much. The anxiety. That feeling that she just wasn't  enough. Sometimes Olivette would go back to her room after a long day and just stare at her  walls, at the crystal, at the window. She is always trying to ignore the searing pain in her  temples, her shaking hands and stiff form, her collapsing and compressing lungs. She tries and  tries all day to be enough for them. To please her mother and the nobles. To keep up the  facade of immaculately and flawless poise. But it made her feel like a liar, a traitor in her own  body. Makes her wonder when all these things changed. When they started expecting more.  When she realized that she wasn't enough.  

When did she begin pretending that she would rather be working than playing with her  sister and riding Prissie? Maybe that’s her own fault, she thinks to herself. Maybe if I could just  draw up my courage and ask for a break….. 

The days have collided into each other and are still piling up in the void that is time.  Stacking up on one of each other and blurring their entities together. But no matter what they  never stop moving.  

“Mama?” Olivette finds herself asking one day after a meeting.”Can I go play outside  for a bit? I need a break. And the stable hands say that Prissie has been missing me. You  wouldn't deny a baby unicorn my amazing presence would you?” She pulls her face into a  pout and secures her puppy eyes into place. “Would you?” 

”No, there is a meeting in ten minutes, Olivette and you need to participate in it. You  said that the unicorn wouldn't be a distraction—well…” Queen Andronika checks her watch  and looks up, her eyes focused on something behind the girl. Her face is pinched in turmoil,  her eyes lined with concentration as they always are after meetings and such. “I suppose…”  She then glances once again, behind where the princess is standing in her puffy, magenta  gown and perfectly coiffed hair. 

 Olivette hates the gown. And her hair, in her opinion, was too stiff, but her mother had  recommended the outfit. And her hairstylist said that her hair looked the most alluring like this.  Olivette disagreed with her there. 

Olivette turns and sees her father mouthing words to her mother. His mouth then  fastens shut when he sees her looking, a slight smile flits over his lips before he turns and  goes, with his face as red as his hair.  

The queen is smiling too, but unlike his that was purely fueled by discomfort, her’s is  painted with amusement and her voice is soaked in it, too. “Olly, why don’t you just take the  day off, I know this all can be very stressful sometimes.” 

”Really? Geez, that would be great! Thank you, mama!” The princess embraces her  shocked form before racing outside down the path to the stables. 

Prissie is in one of the smaller stalls. There are a great many nobles in the stables today,  they are probably having some sort of picnic. But the princess ignores them all as she sprints  over to the unicorn and puts on her saddle. 

The nobles, unbeknownst to her in her excitement are watching her. There frowns are  pronounced at her childish behavior, completely unaware of the hypocrisy in their  thoughts.That doesn’t stop Olivette from enjoying her ride. Unicorns are notoriously fast so she  finds her self galloping across white sands and forest floor. Through wheat crops and villages.  Sand and grass. The sounds of her laughter and hoofs filter through her ears. As she breathes  in fresh air with similar scents of salt and nature and the village’s food. 

When she gets back it is almost sunset. After putting Prissie’s affairs in order she  prances down to the kitchen feeling freer then she has in weeks. She wonders if there are any  honey cakes, preferably freshly cooked in the kitchen or maybe some—- 

“Your highness,’’ Olivette is startled from her musings by an unctuous voice that  belongs to a person with equally oily hair. Lord Mawin.”I cannot help but notice that you  weren't at the council today’s meeting. Your mother has been attending such meetings since  she was even younger than you. If you are to ever be a good ruler you need to abandon this  irresponsible behavior of yours and start trying harder. You are disruptive during meetings, your  reports and lectures are sloppy and you don't bother trying to understand half of what we are  talking about. If you are to ever be half the queen your mother is, you need to do better.  Because with all respect to you, your royal highness, you are failing.” 

The princess recoils at the last word. Humiliation burning her eyes and flushing in  shame from head to toe. She was already trying so hard, but it wasn’t enough. She was failing.  I’m a failure, she thinks to herself, as the elderly man walks away. She forgoes the kitchens and  walks mindlessly to her room. Replaying the cruel words over and over like an anthem. No  matter how hard she tried, how many hours she spent trying to be better and contribute more it  was never enough. She is ten years old, she thinks to herself, she should be better than this. 

She’s wrong of course. In all my years I have never seen a ten year old who naturally  does as much as they expect of her. And I’m ancient. 

She reaches her bedroom door and plops face first down on her bed and its velvety  violet blankets. The heavy blankets muffle her sobs as she attempts to cry the ache out of her  heart. It doesn't work. Pain, hopelessness, and a fierce suffocation like never before envelops  her.  

I wish I was good enough. I wish I could be perfect for them, she thinks to herself. 

Her head lolls to the side and her eyes snag on a singular crystal on her nightstand. The  Tear Of Kaleah. In the darkness it looks almost luminescent. 

”I wish I was the perfect princess to them,” she whispers softly through tears.  

The light burned brighter. And she turns her face away once more. Then she cries  herself to sleep. Hoping that her dreams will bring her relief. Hoping that tomorrow would be  different. 

But little does she know that by the dawn of the next day, everything would change. For  better or for worse.