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Her mother’s soft hands are running through her hair, dividing the golden strands into braids, humming a lullaby as she does.
Young Mary watches her mother's reflection in the mirror, sharp eyes and gaunt face carrying every bit of regality within them. Mary waits, hoping that just once, just once, her mother would pause, look up and catch her eyes in the mirror, to smile at her and tell her what a beautiful woman she is.
But as always, the hope remains wishful thinking.
“My dear Maria….” Her mother says, tone rigid with a hint of softness, “In one week’s time, you will be the Queen of an entire nation. You are a little girl, no more my child. At fifteen, you will be the Mother of an entire nation. It is your duty to rule as such.”
Mary tightens her jaw, nodding as her mother speaks.
“Stay still.” She commands, and Mary freezes, mentally berating herself for the folly.
“Your future husband is a powerful man, and will only rise further in reverence and nobility as the years pass by. Aren't you such a fortunate bride, my child?”
Mary swallowed, trying not to let the fear in her heart show on her face, “Yes, mother.”
“Yes, Your Majesty ,” She corrects her, “In a week, you will be my daughter no more, but a fellow Queen. You must refrain from using such informal titles.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Mary corrects herself.
Her mother finally smiles, but it is not the smile Mary wishes to see. A smile full of authority and satisfaction. No….that was not what Mary wanted. What Mary longed for, always longs for….is a smile of affection…..just once, she hoped her mother would smile at her like how she smiles at her brothers…..a smile of affection, of happiness…. of pride .
Mary doesn't realise when her mother is done working with her hair, only that the cold warmth of the Queen has subsided, as the latter moves towards the door to exit Mary’s chamber, “Go to sleep, Maria. Tomorrow you will be beginning the journey to your husband's kingdom.”
Future husband. Mary bites back the words on her tongue, only nodding wordlessly as she hears the sound of a closing door and her mother’s retreating footsteps.
She mustn't….she mustn't let the ill feelings in her heart rise to the surface. No….she was destined to be a Queen, a regal one, a revered one, a powerful one. No, she must prepare now.
Mary stood up, swallowing back the bitterness, resisting the tightness in her throat, ignoring the stinging in her eyes.
The face that stared back at her looked so unlike her own. Hair tied up, a visage white as a ghost, red lips pursed in seriousness…..a woman in every shape and form except internally. Mary knew it was her destiny….she must grow up….she must leave behind these girlish dreams and childish whimsies. In a week, she would be wed to a King.
Mary continued to stare at her reflection, unable to move, unable to walk away, unable to even change the expression on her face. Frozen like a porcelain doll, unmoving and unblinking.
After what seemed like an eternity….Mary finally looked away from the mirror, breathing slowly as she headed towards her bed.
Tomorrow…..was bound to be an eventful day…..she must sleep for sometime at least.
Seconds, minutes, hours…..the time passes by, but the future Queen of France lays awake in her bed, staring at the grand ceiling, sleep evading her well past midnight.
An inexpressible emptiness filled her heart, and an unspoken dread loomed over her. Mary wished she could fall asleep….wished she could have just a moment of respite from the endless troubles plaguing her mind, from the burden of her upcoming responsibilities….just a moment of respite….how desperate she was for it.
Mary turned to her side, staring once again at the ornate mirror resting at the edge of her room, glimmering with its golden borders in the moonlight. Mary breathed out, wondering if the chill of the night breezes were ever enough to simply carry her away to a less complicated world.
As Mary allows herself to hope, for a split second, that maybe something could change, something could be different, that for once, just once, her decisions could be her own. Lost in her reverie, Mary finds herself blinking in surprise as something bright and red catches her eye. She raises from her bed, watching as a glimmering crimson butterfly flies past her to the edge of the room…..towards her mirror.
Mary is intrigued, she watches with curious eyes, as the tiny glowing insect flits through the darkness in her room, brushing against the silvery surface of the mirror, and Mary expects it land on the mirror, but to her bewilderment, the butterfly’s wings flutter along the surface of the mirror and send ripples throughout its surface, like the wind dancing on the waves of a still pond.
Mary gets off her bed, walking, with slow, unsure footsteps, towards the mirror, reaching out- for what? She isn't sure, but she doesn't stop walking. She doesn't know what this means, why the butterfly is here, in the dead of the night, calling out to her with a soundless flutter of its glowing crimson wings.
But at that moment, what Mary wishes for is just a respite. She rushes forward, the butterfly just out of her touch— and then, it disappears….into the mirror.
Mary hesitates but for a mere moment, letting her hand caress the surface of the mirror, pushing her fingers further in, gasping in silent wonder at the unbelievable sight in front of her…..her hand was inside the mirror…..the reflective silver sheen rippling as she moved. Mary’s eyes widened, and before she knew it she had taken another step forward, into the cold glass, the glowing mirror welcoming her into its mystical realm with a flash of blinding light.
Mary walks through the mirror, and finds herself in a whole new place. A room much smaller than her own, barely furnished and engulfed in semi-darkness. Wooden floorboards and wooden walls, and a door that seemed to be made of paper.
But Mary’s wonder of the new place did not last long, as she noticed that she was not all alone in the room. Behind her was the mirror she had walked through, though less ornate and grand on this side— donning a simpler and humble appearance of a mere wooden frame but a surface as shiny as ever.
In front of her was a woman– no, a girl. Barely a few years younger than her. She was looking up at Mary with a look of utmost astonishment, eyes red and puffy, with her hands held in front of her— as if she had been crying up until now.
She was dressed in an attire Mary had never seen before. A long white and orange robe, with silver borders and golden fishes decorating the material. Her hair was left half-untied, as if haphazardly undone, and the makeup underneath her eyes were smudged and messy due to her tears.
Mary was unsure of what was going on, however, she couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for the young girl in front of her. Perhaps this was a dream. Perhaps the girl wasn't real, neither was the room, nor this night.
Mary swallowed, asking, in a light voice, “Why are you crying?”
The girl flinched, as if only realising now that Mary's presence in front of her was no illusion. She did not reply immediately, watching Mary with a hint of caution in her gaze.
Mary understood…perhaps the girl in front of her was just as confused and lost as her. She crouched down, settling opposite to the weeping girl, “I am Maria,” She told her, “But you can just call me Mary. What is your name?”
The girl blinked her teary eyes and looked down, mumbling in a voice barely above a whisper,
“Michiko…..”
“Michiko,” Mary repeated, “I have never heard a name like that before.”
Michiko did not reply, sniffling as she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her robe.
“Are you…..a goddess?” She asked belatedly, “....or a witch?” Her eyes contracted in alarm as she voiced out the second possibility.
“I am neither of those,” Mary huffed, a little bit offended, “I am a princess ….and a soon-to-be Queen.” She declared in a confident voice, pushing down the wave of anxiety that the thought brought to her.
“A princess….” Michiko repeated, eyes wide in wonder, “You speak a language I've never heard before…..yet I understand you perfectly.”
Mary blinked, realising only now that what Michiko said was indeed true, “Me too….” She noted, “I’ve never heard your language….but I know what you are saying without any problem.”
For a moment, the two girls just stared at each other, bewildered.
And then, Mary sat down properly and spoke, “I must be dreaming,” She concluded. That explains it. It must also be why she was this unfazed by the situation she was in.
Michiko hesitated, “You said you were a princess….is that true?”
“Of course,” Mary answered, “How could someone like me be born as anything but a noblewoman.”
Michiko looked at her, and then downwards, a sorrowful expression on her face, “It must be nice being a princess…..you have everything you could ever dream of….and nothing to fear, and no one to please…”
Mary felt a sting in her heart on hearing those words. She grit her teeth, “Don’t be ridiculous. Being a princess is not easy either…..there’s…..responsibilities….and…..important matters…..a princess must deal with.”
“Like what?” Michiko asked with genuine curiosity.
“Like….” Mary paused, trying her best to remember, “Well….” She looked away, cross with embarrassment, “....etiquette…and duties of a noblewoman and such…..” She blinked, frowning, “....learning languages, learning political sciences, learning to hold conversations……I despise it all. I despise studying.” She finished in a frustrated tone.
“I…..” Michiko swallowed, “I have always wished to have an education like that,” She mumbled, “I’ve seen the children from the wealthy homes….they have private tutors and such. I suppose you must have them too.”
“Of course,” Mary said, “I don’t like them. They say I am slow and lazy and not smart enough to be a proper royal. Well, I do not care. I’ve only ever cared about learning music. I would much rather have a harp in my hands, and sing away to my heart’s content, than sit and listen to boring lectures that evoke sleep.”
“That’s unfair,” Michiko remarked, “You have the life I dream of, and yet you are so ungrateful.”
“Excuse me?” Mary looked at her, obviously angry, but then decided she mustn’t let her emotions get the better of her so easily, “You don’t know what you are saying….” She muttered, eyes downcast, “I’ve seen to the fates of daughters born into noble families. Perhaps I am more fortunate than them. I am aware of my parents’ affection, and yet I cannot help but feel it is not enough to save me. In a week, I am to be married off to the future king of France. I have met him not once, and I know not whether he will be a saint or a beast. I am to be a Queen, but I feel as lost as a child. I will have every luxury at my disposal, I will have servants in every corner of my dwelling, I will be revered as magnificently as a saintess. And yet…..” She breathed in, realising all too suddenly how cold her limbs felt, “...it feels as though my life is not my own. I watch myself being puppeted by the strings of fate. And every thought I spare for my glorious future is accompanied by an underlying dread. That…..”
Mary’s eyes remained unblinking, and her voice dropped low to a whisper as she finished, “......something terrible is going to happen.”
Michiko watched her carefully. Her downcast eyes, her pale rosy cheeks, her silken nightrobes, and lengthy locks of her untied hair cascading her face like a curtain. On one hand, she really did feel it was ridiculous that one could be born into so much wealth and luxury and still have such worries. On the other hand, she couldn’t help the tug of her heartstrings on noticing such a melancholic expression on Mary’s face.
She looked forward, deciding it to be best to focus her gaze elsewhere as she relayed her own tale, “I was born in an Okiya. And growing up here, I was treated well by all the women who took care of me. My mother died young in childbirth. Were it not for my aunts and older sisters, I would have been a helpless beggar on the streets. But from the moment I was born……” Michiko hesitated, but continued, “.....my destiny was set in stone. A girl-child born in an entertainment district…..when I was young and innocent, I never realised how dark and terrifying the world of adults could be. And now…..now that I must step into that very realm that I used to be terrified of as a child, it scares me to no end. I have a dream, you know? That I leave this place behind. This house, this town, all my older sisters and aunts…..I wish to go far away from here…..to live a life where I could perform at my own wills and fancies, to dance for myself, a life where I have nothing to fear or no one to entertain,” Michiko smiled bitterly, “I am a hypocrite. How can I so easily dismiss the struggles and hard work of the women who raised me? I love them, I admire them….but sometimes…..I wish I could have a better life, a life like those of the wealthy girls,,,roaming the streets, laughing with their companions, no worries for tomorrow, no worries of anything.”
“You are not a hypocrite,” Mary said in a small voice, swallowing back the pain in her throat, “It is normal to wish for a better life. As a human, you would always yearn for that which you cannot have. I…..” Mary breathed out, “A life far away from troubles and worries, a life where we can do what we want on our own terms, a life where we are the mistresses of our destiny…..doesn’t that sound so wonderful?”
Michiko opened her mouth, “And yet…..letting go is easier said than done. Getting rid of the ghosts in one's heart will result in the cessation of existence.”
Mary swallowed, “Don’t say that….perhaps all is not so hopeless.”
“Perhaps for someone like you. It seems to me that the only worry you have is an incoming marriage where you haven’t met your groom yet. As for me…..” Michiko trailed off, unable to complete her bitter remark, “No….forgive me….I suppose you have your own troubles as well.”
Mary found no defense for herself. Instead she spoke, in a voice laced with sympathy and sadness, “You are right. I do have a life better than yours, and for that I cannot compare my struggles to yours. But….I hope, that what the future brings for the two of us will be better than what we expect. That I will find a place for myself in my new home, and that you will find a place for yourself away from your old one. I wish, that we may both perhaps find the release we are so desperately searching for on this wistful night. And that all our lingering hopes may not be in vain.”
Michiko’s bitterness receded a little bit, a touch of softness blooming on her features, “You….said you cherish music, didn’t you?”
Mary looked at her, “Yes, I very much do. Playing instruments and singing….I wouldn’t give it up for the world.”
“I am well-trained in the art of music and dance as well,” Michiko told her, “Although I prefer dancing the most. I am fairly alright with instruments, and I wouldn’t sing…..I do not think I can….”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mary shook her head, “With a voice as lovely as yours, every word you utter sounds like a lyric.”
Michiko blushed, speechless.
Mary blinked, realising only now what she had said. Her cheeks colored and she cleared her throat, looking away to speak in a haughty tone, “B-but I reckon it wouldn’t be better than my singing. I have a talent blessed by gods.”
Michiko smiled, amused, “I have no doubt about that.”
Mary, whose eyes were closed, stole a peek at Michiko by opening one of her eyes, and then she opened both her eyes and looked at her properly, “And I….” She hesitated for a mere moment, “....am quite sure your dancing must be just as magnificent.”
Michiko was evidently surprised by the sudden compliment, her eyes softened, “Someday…..perhaps you and I could perform together. You could sing and I could dance.”
Mary smiled, “That does sound quite lovely…..” She sighed, “.....someday perhaps we will meet in a dream again….older, wiser….perhaps….living happier lives as well.”
Michiko breathed in, looking down at the fan clutched in her hands, “Or maybe….someday…..fate will be kinder to us….and we can meet outside of a dream. Perhaps someday….you and I can sit together and talk more, tell each other stories about our lives. I think yours would be very interesting to listen to.”
Mary laughed, “As would be yours. I am sure.”
The two girls smiled at each other, the promised implication in their words as fantastical as a fairy tale, and yet every bit sincere, within their hearts and their speech.
It was a silent, yet peaceful moment, they were looking at each other, a newfound wonder in each other's faces. Perhaps, despite being worlds apart…..they were not so different after all….
Flash.
A blinding silvery light startled the two girls, and they both turned towards the mirror resting on the wall nearby. The clear surface had begun glowing again.
“Oh….” Mary sucked in a fascinated breath, “Is it asking me to leave?”
Michiko’s face fell, “Well….I suppose you cannot remain here forever.”
“Maybe…..” Mary paused. Maybe I can…..if this really is a dream. But she didn’t say that.
Instead, she stood up, dusting her silken nightrobes, “Maybe….this isn’t the end….” She tried to say, unable to help the crack in her voice. She didn’t know what it was….but something told her something as miraculous as this was never going to happen ever again in her life.
Michiko remained on the floor, watching Mary with a sad yet longing gaze, “......I….” Her words were struggling to leave her mouth.
Mary walked towards the mirror, slow and reluctant, trying to ignore the sting in her eyes. She turned around, smiling through her tears, “Thank you Michiko. For listening to my fears and anxieties….our conversation…..really eased my restless heart…..I….” She knew she was making a hopeless wish, but she said it out loud anyways, “I am sure…..someday we will meet again.”
Michiko did not even try to hold back her crying. Her already ruined make up smudged even more under her newly shed tears, “I am grateful too….” She said, “We spoke for so little time,” She smiled softly, “Yet it feels like I’ve known you forever. Maybe someday I will.”
Mary’s heart wavered, but her smile turned brighter, despite the melancholy on her face, “I hope that you will find what you are looking for.”
Michiko’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t look away, watching as Mary turned around, stepping through the glimmering glass, disappearing out of her sight….little by little….
“Y-you too!!” She called out, “I hope…..you will find the happiness you wish for–”
As Michiko yelled those words at the shining mirror, all she could see was a lock of Mary’s silvery hair vanishing into the blinding white light on the mirror, and then, all at once, the light was gone. The mirror was back to being an ordinary looking glass, and Michiko was all alone in the room once again.
She wrapped her hands around herself, feeling the chill of the night air even more than before.
*****
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A life lived less and long gone. A tragedy soaked in blood and heartache. There was mending what was broken….who could even mend it?
The woman in a red kimono roamed the dark halls, her footsteps lighter than a butterfly and her pupil-less eyes fixed on the wooden floor in front of her. Michiko disliked being invited to social gatherings. Far too many people and far too much noise. She much preferred the dark solitude of her room over the bright cheery disturbances of the grand banquets their host was always so eager to hold.
With her nonchalant face hidden behind her trusted fan, Michiko entered the brightly illuminated grandhall, returning cheery greetings with a nod and a slight bow. A ghost among ghosts.
“We have someone new today.” Someone was saying. Michiko paused but for only a moment. New participants in this twisted game were nothing surprising. Some poor soul or the other kept stumbling into this maddening purgatory of endless suffering every other day. Michiko hadn’t stumbled, however. She had arrived here knowing well what she was walking into.
“One of us. A new hunter.”
Michiko stopped, well that was rare. Their faction did not welcome new members often.
“Ah, she is here…..look at her worn clothes and stitched neck….no doubt about it. She is one of us.”
A sharp intake of breath from one of her fellow players, “The……the former Queen of France?”
Michiko dropped the glass she was holding. She didn’t know why but that title sent a wave of restlessness throughout her. Why?
A cough, and then a voice spoke, young and feminine, hoarse and rough….but still retaining every bit of its regality,
“You may call me Mary. Just that. No titles or honorifics whatsoever please.”
Mary? Mary? Did she know that name? Why did it sound so familiar? And this voice…..has she heard it before? Why did it reach so deep within her and tug on a melancholic loss long buried in the bottom of her heart.
Michiko turned around, breathless, and then their gazes met. Two women standing on the opposite sides of the room, and as soon as their gazes locked with each other, snatches of a long-forgotten memory resurfaced in their minds. An encounter so long ago, a conversation lost to time…..and a night as fleeting as a dream.
Despite everything, when Mary’s eyes widen in recognition, and her pale, dry lips part in disbelief on spotting Michiko from across the room….Michiko feels a burst of life spring forth in her dead heart.
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