She had a beautiful view: well the room in which she spent most of her days did. And it was beautiful, gorgeous even.
In the morning, from the East window, she could watch the sun rise over the mountains. She could admire the view, as the skies took a purple hue, then faded to pink and suddenly changed to yellows and oranges. It was a mesmerizing view. Truly.
In the afternoon, she would rest on the small balcony, which overlooked South. Shaded by some foliage she would cast a glance on the domain surrounding her dwelling: the river shone under the sun, as if diamonds and other gems were sparkling in the waters. The river watered fields of green grass, sunflowers and lavenders. The view of the colourful scenery truly was soothing.
In the evening, from the West window, she could admire the sunset, when the skies caught fire over the sea that spread to the horizon. Of all the views her chamber offered, it was the one she preferred. She couldn’t help herself even though – for all its beauty – it made her melancholy.
For she was a prisoner here; and she could only gaze longingly at the sea and hope one day someone from her father’s kingdom would dare cross the sea, defy its storms and tricky waves to come deliver her from the wizard who locked her in this tower with its stunning view.
But she had been here five years and no knight had come. Only the wizard every other night: telling her she was here because her father allowed it. She knew he spoke true: she was the price for his saving her father’s kingdom. It didn’t change her view of the matter: she had no choice.
So every other night she refused to consummate the nuptials imposed upon her. She knew she should be grateful the man hadn’t forced her to. In fact she was… Maybe tonight she would tell him so. Or maybe she wouldn’t.
In response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt View