Lyra {D4)

“Don’t ask questions about me.” I immediately scold the newcomer, similar to how a mother sets their child in their proper place. Seems to be the role I’ve earned myself within these mansion walls, which is something I can’t entirely complain over. The bit of power that comes with it is very much worthy; but the annoyance that’s constantly included, occasionally has me questioning just how I much I actually enjoy my title. “My story is not going to assist you.” That’s for quite sure.

My head gestures over to the one closed door within the restaurant-size kitchen; before leading the way through it, to the downstairs servants’ courters. I’m never too fond of the small talk these new girls always seem to provide, which is exactly why I try to keep things quiet. Not sure why they think I’m here to reassure them of the decisions they made to come here, as though they didn’t have a choice. They’ll discover they sold their soul sooner or later. Least they should be grateful they had a say in the matter. I didn’t.

We move through the sitting area like skilled thieves, though there’s no one down here to remain hushed for. All of the workers are busy playing their parts within the large structure of this home. I’m just fortunate enough to maintain the less straining tasks…relatively. “Girls are down this way.” I remember to inform as we travel into the hallway opposite from the Males’ side. “My room is here, incase you need anything...” My voice is soothing as we walk further down; despite the hatred I’d feel towards being disturbed within my chamber. “And you’ll be sharing this room with a few others.” I hold open the entrance for her, and follow in as well.

There’s no forgetting this room. It’s so much different from ten years ago when I was first welcomed in. More personal objects decorate nearly every inch, and the atmosphere is more inviting. Yet there’s still that isolated feel about it, letting us know that only unwanted servants occupy this space. “You may pick any of the un-sheeted beds.” Six beds fill the spacious room, and only four spots are filled with signs of life. Joffrey always prefers keeping a few spaces open for whomever he may find, like this fresh blood that’s staring at her options.

“Why do you get your own room?” Out of everything she can be wondering about at this very moment, that’s where her concern is? It’s already obvious that she will not be lasting here for long. To expect so much when she’s only just been delivered. Joffrey’s going to have a field day with convincing this one of the nothing that she is, just as he’s done with all of us.

To prepare this Girl for what’s to come, or have her suffer with discovering it herself. Such a hard debate that I’m faced with. I’d drop that attitude if I were you, I would warn her. But I don’t. “Because I have the best looks.” It’s a rare event when I’m actually soft & nurturing to someone. Practically being raised by Joffrey himself, it’s no surprise that a bit of his personality has brushed off on me. I’m better then his other servants, even if that’s a complete lie in itself.

Interest in this girl has completely vanished at this point, and without an ounce of hesitation I leave her in her new environment. “Get some rest. Training will start in a few hours.” I warn her prior to cutting her off completely with a closed door behind me. Why must they always arrive with such expectations? It makes the reality check all that much worse. With time to spare, I journey to the private bedroom I’ve struggled so hard to achieve.

Ten years. It was that long ago when I first walked into this captivating castle. Some days it feels a though I’ve been here for so much longer. As if I was birthed into this lifestyle that I’m so acquainted to. It’s that very reason why I feel more deserving then the other girls. Pictures of the family they left, or no longer have, plaster the walls around their beds or frames upon their nightstands. They held a horrible life that they wanted release from. They agreed to the fate we all now have. They weren’t pawned off so that their parents could have money. They’re not me.

“Please, Mama. I don’t want a better life. I want to be with you!” Six year old me cries and begs in front of the gates protecting this massive household. In exchange for my servitude, they’d receive a much more comfortable living. I wasn’t aware of that at the time, but now I Am. Now the core of my hatred is reserved just for them. Joffrey formed this within me a year after my stay, after being fed up with the dream that my parents would return for me. He informed me of the lack of value I pertain, and the ease they held as I was forced inside. Ever since my sole purpose has been to prove to only Joffrey of the worth I do have.

Dark brown locks delicately hang past my shoulders, framing the eyes of matching color. Whenever I gaze into the mirror, I can’t help but think of the slightly overcooked brownies that Joffrey despises. Frankly, I enjoy the crunch of the crispy chocolate outside, and the similar shade that’s resembled in my hair. Must be another thing that the Blonde ruler disapproves over about me though. I probably couldn’t explain why he’s kept me around longer then anyone else.

My disposition is rather scrawny all around, leaving every part of me petite. Whenever fueled properly, Joffrey always educates me on the qualities the other maids maintain, the ones that I don’t. A female structure simply refuses to strongly embrace me, and my inner disgust toward it doesn’t help. I strive to be the person of Joffrey’s ideal image, only to be brushed further and further away from that accomplishment. Perhaps I’m not suited for the likings of anyone, no matter how hard I struggle to be.

There’s something about Joffrey that seizes me though. Despite his cruel and vicious ways, it only has me wanting his acceptance more. I can’t deny the jealousy that forms when he gives another servant attention, whether good or bad. Its focus off of me, creating believes that he may no longer have a need for me. After serving him for the majority of my existences, I can’t image it being any different. My purpose is here, no matter what resistance I might have for it all. I rid my mind of these contemplations, knowing very well I’ll have to return to my responsibilities shortly. There’s no room for fear within this place, only power and control. And I will continue my way to the top, to Joffrey’s Courters.

Code: O'Dair
Face-claim: Caitlin Stasey