Stale Fairytale

I don't want to leave something unfinished... but...

Sometimes, she hated him. Not him, exactly, but the way he was, his upbringing – all of that. Some days, she felt all the social rules and false pleasantries suffocated her, making her regret ever having involved herself into his affairs. Into his work life.

She bit her lip and swallowed back sour words she longed to sling at him. There was no point to, she told herself. Decisions were made, paths were set. There was no going back now. Life didn’t offer second chances. She was born into this position, and there was no changing that.


This was Sonya's mindset as he took her hand and placed it into the crook of his arm, leading her through the grand hallway and into the banquet room. She dragged her feet beneath her dress, hoping this would slow down the inevitable, but soon they passed through the arched doorways. She felt her heart sink.

"I will pay my respects to Lord Windsor and a few others. Once I finish, I will send for you to join us,” he said. “You be good, and stay where I can see you.”

The man turned his attention to the boy with blue eyes and dark brown hair standing behind them.

“Terrence, keep an eye on your sister for me.”

The boy, who looked no older than sixteen, nodded curtly. “Yes, sir.”

She watched until she could no longer see the back of his tailored suit as he disappeared into the crowd. Music and lively chatter filled the room, but everything felt far, far away from her.

“I don’t want to join anyone,” she mumbled. “Don’t you agree, Terry?”

Terry slouched slightly in his blue suit, and didn’t quite know what to say.

“I know you don’t like these parties, but you agreed to help with the family’s social affairs. Isn’t this sort of thing a given?”

“I didn’t know everything would be such a pain,” she sighed. “I’ve never been close with father. So I don’t really know why he suddenly thinks having me around will be useful.”

“Lord Wilder is someone you can’t hope to understand,” Terry said flatly. Then he quickly changed the topic. “I’ll go get you a drink.”

“Champagne, please.”

The room was filled with many elegantly dressed ladies and gentleman; most were influential figures Sonya recognized from magazines and campaign ads. She stifled a yawn and moved to the window. The sun had set only moments ago, and the sky was still streaked with fading light.

A hand suddenly tapped her on the shoulder; out of the corner of her eye, Sonya saw a glass of wine held out to her.

“I wanted champagne, not red wine,” she started to say, but stopped once she realized the gloved hand holding the glass did not belong to her brother. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

Before her stood a gentleman with striking eyes and blond hair. A soft smile played on his lips.

She didn't recognize him from previous events, but something about him was familiar to her. She couldn't place a finger on it.

"You look young. Are you old enough to drink?" the blond asked.

Sonya fought the urge to roll her eyes. Everyone always commented on her youthful appearance.

"I may not look it, but I'm older than you think."

He offered her the glass again; she accepted it curtly.