A Taste of Open Air

Year one thousand seven hundred and three of Our Lord. Candles mounted on all sides lit the interiors of the hall a resplendent warm glow, the perfectly polished walls gleaming smugly under the candlelight.

An ocean of riches caged Alexandra in; she felt as if the white marble floor beneath her would give way any moment. The hem of silk dresses brushed against her, its touch light as feather, its worth heavy as ten loaded merchant ships. The ladies' necklaces glinted, the promise of luxury secured through birth and status.

Alexandra's grimace etched a deep line between her brows. She despised the crowds, the sweeping, assessing glares of her cold comrades and, most of all, being coerced into attending the ball and put on display like a rare species of mare in the market. A breeding mare.

"Watch your step, girl." A low baritone reverberated behind her.

Alexandra spun around to find herself on the edge of a dark, empty abyss as the she looked into the speaker's eyes. An arrogant tilt of the chin, the permanent smirk by the edge of his lips screamed the title of a Lord.

"See that family tree over there." In one sweeping gesture he motioned at the wall, where the names of the host's family were forever etched in elegant script. The words of lords and ladies intertwined to form a thick tree trunk. Leaves and branches, lush and unblemished, embellished the top. Leaves frozen in time, never wilting.

"This House will stand forever," he drawled. A sardonic smile twisted the line of his mouth. "But not yours, I'm afraid; your House sinks as your father's ships succumb to the waves. Unless, perhaps, their daughter marries well?"

Alexandra trembled with fury; she longed to push him over, swear at him; or perhaps, better yet, race into the welcoming arms of the outdoors, leaving this hall and its residents behind her permanently. This was a ball, however, and what could be worse than making a scene?

The Lord must have smelled his victory, for he sauntered away into the crowd without another word, his nose almost touching the heavens.

"And don't you look sickly, Lady Alexandra."

Alexandra desperately wished to be anywhere but here. But God was not merciful; and in this wretched place she remained. With gritted teeth she spun around; a pretty face, smooth and pale, smiled at her. The smile rang hollow though; devoid of meaning, or sincerity; a dried empty lake. A facade.

"Shouldn't you be considering a new gown, now?" The duchess' earrings glinted, jeering at Alexandra. "But of course, with your poor mother indisposed, what can a mere girl do?"

"I pray you not mention such dreary business." Alexandra replied through clenched teeth, knuckles white. She longed for the warmth of sunshine, of breeze as she raced downhill. Not this unforgiving crowd, sneering at her mother's dire state casually as if it was a remark on poor fashion.

"Where's your lady-in-waiting, though?" The duchess continued, feigning ignorance. "But oh, I have forgotten your family's financial—"

The dam broke; Alexandra could almost count the seconds before her tears crashed her determination down and spill over.

She did not bother letting the duchess finish. She spun on her heels and forced her way through the relentless crowd, her heart pounded, a wild, wild rhythm; her mind a torrent of emotion that threatened to engulf her whole. On she raced, hardly caring for elegance, making a beeline for the exit. Murmurs of shock rumbled through the crowd, and surely the hall wasn't that large, surely the exit wasn't that far—

—and cool, blessed fresh air! It drove away the icy eyes, the cold interior, her tears; the cool autumn breeze enveloped her into the warmest of hugs.

The emphyrean arc of the night sky smiled benevolently at her, scattered with the constellations of the seasons. Starlight trickled through the smooth, bare branches of the trees, shadowed by several remaining leaves.

What was the meaning? Of forever-standing family trees: leaves that cannot reach the heavens, trunks that cannot taste open air, roots that cannot feel the soil; when faced with such easy elegance of nature, such breathtaking beauty?

No regret washed over, now that she thought back to her rash actions in the hall. The move was absurd, it was absolutely perilous; but the rush, the freedom, was downright glorious. What a fool she had been! She swore never to return to court again. She swore to follow nature's calling, break free the flashy stain gowns for wings that soared into the skies, for fins that wade against the currents of society. No doubt her family would object; but who could stop her from cutting lines with her title and her last name?

As the last leaf fell from the tree, a promise was made that would last for a lifetime. She kneeled to pick up the delicate, golden piece of nature; so scarred, so torn, so different from the careful embellishments of the family tree in the hall. She held it close to her heart. 

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Author's note:

An entry for -svnny_skiies- , thank you for hosting the contest!  It was a thrilling ride finding and crafting the right words for this prose, just in time for the end of 2024 :)  

Hope you enjoyed it, do leave any thoughts or constructive criticisms below! Happy new year <3