Two soft, small hands grasped the railing of a palace balcony and a sad sigh resonated throughout the entire kingdom, sweeping over the hills and the
valleys, the deserts and the many tropical oases hidden within the vast and wide kingdom. The beautiful white walls and marble statues remained
silent, though, and a prayer made by the small figure, the only person seemingly interested in the night sky, went unanswered and unheard. It was not
unheard of for the gods to ignore a prayer, but how could they ignore the prayer of the child sired from a man considered to be a god; how could the
Princess Mukarramma’s prayer remained unanswered?
She stood solemn and alone, held lowered so that her chin touched her chest. It was unfair… Everything was unfair. Although her life was full of
riches and the beautiful princess could have anything; any trinket her heart desired, she was truly unhappy in the beautiful, gold laden cage. Most
would not think the castle was a cage, but to someone who had never journeyed beyond its walls and never spoke to anyone not considered worthy enough,
the castle was a trap and a place of silent suffering, hers to bear alone and into death.
Mukarramma had been born on a night like this in the last threads of summer. Her mother had been a slave, brought to the castle to pleasure the aging
pharaoh. Placed on a pavilion in the gardens, she had appeared to the pharaoh as a glistening pearl and he married her at once, naming her his Queen.
The only queen among a hundred or so concubines, she was envied throughout the entire palace, but no dared touch her; her body was the pharaoh’s only
and no man nor woman could lay a hand on her without being severely punished. She quickly announced she was with child, but although she was hearty
and strong, she died shortly after delivering the beautiful babe now known as Mukarramma.
Throughout her entire life, Mukarramma was spoiled and coddled. She was never punished and given anything she wanted. The girl quickly learned that
she could wreak havoc among the servants and various slaves by disappearing and this turned into a game that she tormented them with. Her father
valued education dearly and made sure that his precious daughter had the very best of tutors and she was taught every subject from math to astronomy
and from language to acting. However, the one thing that was denied to Mukarramma that seemed to confuse her more than bring on anger was her father’s
refusal to allow his daughter to be trained in all forms or fighting and weapon use. Weapons except those on the guards were banned within a hundred
feet of the beautiful princess and her father, nor anyone else in the castle, ever answered her question; why?
Why should she, a princess, be treated as all other women? Why should she learn how to act courteous and respectful; was she not going to rule one
day? It was a harsh truth a young girl of fifteen when she learned that in fact she would not rule the mighty kingdom… At least, not alone. A woman
would never last on the throne, the slaves whispered. They spoke of her father finding her a suitable husband, searching all the lands for a man
worthy enough to take his daughter’s hand. Mukarramma learned that her father did not truly love her… She was a doll to him. A pretty little
play-thing that was meant to bend to his will when he wished it. What he really wanted, what he would really love, was to have a grandson.
And Mukarramma was to give him one, for only a queen could birth a prince, and only a king can father a prince.
That was the day that Mukarramma’s childhood ended and she was hidden from the world. She was forced into proper dress; women were hired to cover her
in make-up and complex designs written in charcoal. Her hair was grown out and her diet was limited to keep her figure. Like most girls, Mukarramma
looked like her mother. Her skin was a deep tan, her frightfully curly hair that fell to her bottom and large eyes were as black as night. Unlike many
who valued their thin figures, the princess was voluptuous and supple like her mother, soft and untouched. She was small in height, but she still knew
she was a princess and refused to let the slaves step over her; she used a powerful voice inherited from her father to direct orders and shout
commands.
However, she was still unhappy. She had the best of clothes; silks, cottons, imported fabrics that were torn to shreds and given to the poor at a
moment’s dislike of them. Her food was prepared fresh daily and nothing short of perfection was served to her. Mukarramma had at least a hundred pets;
tigers, monkeys, birds, horses, dogs, cats, and fish of every size. Still… Happiness seemed to escape her. The pharaoh was the only one who could not
sense the princess’ sadness. He acted as though she could never be unhappy, let alone miserable. What made it even worse was that the servants knew it
and everywhere she went, Mukarramma felt their pity and that was something no princess should every have to know.
Unable to find sleep, the girl wandered the halls, watched closely by all she passed, but she ignored them, holding herself to try and comfort the
feelings of utter hopelessness that floated inside her body. Eventually she found her way into the gardens and she walked down a narrow bridge to the
pavilion her mother had sat on a whole nineteen years ago, and she wept, collapsing into the pillows and crying into her arm as her entire world began
to crush her spirit. She wanted to leave this place! To see the world and explore; she wanted adventure… And romance. She did not want a husband to be
chosen! She wanted to choose!
Overwhelmed, she fell asleep amongst the pillows in the pavilion, looking so much like a bird in a cage…
Kyler ish a purdy
PRINCESS
I want you to take me, but please don’t
break me…
I love you Mike & Alex!!!
I LOVE YOU TINKEH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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