When her eyesight starts to fail from strain and working in darkness, she fashions for herself bottle-round glasses, blown by herself in the depths of her tower. She washes late into the night after she is done with her work for the day in the darkness, not glancing into the mirror that has become cracked and dusty. She cuts off her hair to use in bubbling gold potions, her skin becomes scarred with a rainbow of the consequences of failed experiments, and her dresses turn into makeshift cheesecloths and fire-fuel. She experiments, and she reads, and she studies non-stop, barely stopping for meals and littering her books with an assortment of food stains. She pours over the books long into the night by candlelight, and all day, she rests her pale, tired eyes. Either one will doom her, and she wants to enjoy herself as much as possible until her marriage. She studies them while the clock ticks down for either a prince to arrive or her marriage to be finalized. Fascinated by magic as she always has been, she arranges with a long string of bribes for books on spells and forbidden potions to be smuggled along with her meals. But witches don’t live in towers, and they mostly make potions instead of spells, and they don’t grow the flowing whimsical beards that wizards do.īut that does not mean she has to be bored in her tower. She could become a witch, she knew, flee the castle barefoot and sink into the loving embrace of the swamp. The world she longed to be a part of was a world of study and experimentation, and as the kingdoms Princess and tool, she could not even dare to hint at her desires into adulthood. The life she is forced into makes her hang her head low, makes her hands be paper-soft, and demands her hair be long and beautiful and perfect like all other Princesses. But as she grew older, her restraints became tighter, and more and more often, she was confined in her room to embroider in solitude with barely the comfort of a window or a maid. She used to run the castle halls, stick in hand, robe fashioned out of a delicate silk bedsheet, shouting fake spells at birds while her servants chased her. Princesses are delicate girls to be protected and sold off until their either dead or Queens or have found True Love. She has wanted to be a wizard since a young age, but there is no way for a Princess to become a wizard. If compared to a rose, she would be the humble yet graceful willow tree, slender and tall. She is not the fairest in the land, but she is fair and pretty. She has long, almost brown sandy-blonde hair, pale green eyes and a slim, tender build. She was put there recently by her mother and father, to keep her pure and untouched until they can secure the marriage to another kingdom and a prince shes never met. There is a Princess, and she lives in a tower. Princesses are defined by their beautiful long hair, and wizards are defined by their beards and impressive ‘stache. There are two types of tower-people: A Princess, put there to remain pure until marriage or until rescued, and a Wizard, put there by choice to study and learn in isolation. In world where there is two types of tower-dwellers, a Princess is locked in a tower.
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