Chapter Text
Genesis' POV:
'You can't make me do this!' I exclaimed.
No, no- I simply won't do it.' I continued- words selfishly slithering off my tongue and into the taut atmosphere.
My mother stood in front of me. Her face desperate, her eyes drooping, the corners of her mouth curled.
'Please, please consider it.' She pleaded.
I paused, my breathing shaky and weak. Consider it? I Clenched my fists.
'Consider it?' I hissed- so low the words broke the air in a whisper.
Consider marrying a Dutch Prince solely for royal appearance? To keep the public happy?
I wouldn't.
I couldn't.
It didn't make sense.
Why so sudden?
'Mum, I've never even been to the Netherlands and now you expect me- the princess, heir to the throne to respect your authority as Queen and just go off and tie the knot with some guy I barely know?' I spat.
The blood coursing through my veins boiled- my face becoming red hot with anger. Each word louder and more distinct than the last. An arranged marriage? Were we so helplessly shackled to the customs of our ancestors that we must resume their old practises? I did not want this. Not now. Not ever. Why couldn't she see that?
'Gigi, listen to me.' She spoke, her words soft, caring, calm. 'I am your mother. I am doing this as someone who loves you. Someone who simply wishes the best for you. Prince Hendrik is perfect for you. He's a strong man, exactly what you will need. This union is important, the royal appearance and the stability of Spain's relationship with the Netherlands rely on it. Please, I need you to do this. I need you to try.'
As the words violently vibrated in my head, she stepped forward reaching to place her hand on my arm. Subconsciously, I removed myself from her grasp, swiftly spinning on my heel and exiting the room.
-
My heart hammered in my chest, my hands trembled, tears filling my eyes- I squeezed them shut. Princesses don't cry. Future Queens don't cry.
Here I was, breaking the standards I'd created for myself. Evident, as I found myself melting into the puddle of sorrow that had been manufactured around me.
I glanced at Henrik's portraits, scattered across my bedside table. His flawless features perfectly carved- handsome by anyone's measure, only intensifying the chasm in my chest. Me? Feel love? Impossible.
Subtle signs of my inability to feel or be loved had haunted me, like a ghost hanging by my side. Never have I felt the butterflies, experienced the skipped heartbeat or that desire they always mention. I'd never been affected by any of those things- I've pretended, sure- to hide the abnormalities of my feelings. But I've never felt that gut wrenching, raw, heart-throbbing wish to claim the love of a man. Each man propped in front of me, the same as the last.
Gel-drenched locks, so slick they shimmer under the shining lights, curled smiles masking the evils below, and hopeful eyes begging for something I couldn't grant them. Even those who stray from the usual model don't ignite that spark that others seem to crave. Whatever it was they needed, I didn't posses. I must be damaged somehow. The 'ability to love' switch permanently set to 'off.' I want to be able to love him, to please the family, to make my country proud- but unfortunately, the usual reaction between match and wick, fails to ignite a flame in my chest. I, Genesis Del Castillo, Heir to the Spanish throne, am incapable of love. That thing beating inside my chest? Yeah, it doesn't work- and I don't believe it ever will.
-
The ringing in my ears halted as a small figure appeared at my door. The sound of light footsteps padding along the wooden floor pulled me away from the self-pity I felt and back into the reality I was in. My eyes were puffy; swollen, red and aching. My head now pounded, a man inside my head drumming on my skull- begging me to provide him escape.
I didn't want my 8-year-old sister to witness the state I had got myself into. I didn't want to expose her to the horrors of the real world. In her mind, we were the rulers of the simulation- we controlled everyone and everything- we would always be safe, always protected, never in danger, never afraid, always perfect. Perfect Princesses. The people's princesses. Pretty dolls placed on display to be judged and critiqued at the first sign of a crack in the ceramic.
That's what life was to Luz, and for now that was how it would be kept. I quickly wiped away the tears trickling down my face and turned to look at her. Her eyes shimmered and shone, the beautiful tones of blue meeting me as her innocence seeped into my room.
'Mum told me she needs you in the room.' She declared. All the rooms in the palace were named after a previous monarch and poor Luz could never remember which old guy had claimed which grand space. A small smile stretched across my face.
'Which room?' I inquired.
Her eyebrows crinkled and you could almost hear the cogs in her brain turning as she scrambled to recall.
'How about you show me?' I proposed-witnessing her face begin to fill with worry as she stood unable to answer my question.
She nodded with a smile skipping over to me and gripping my hand firmly- I hauled myself up from the bed trying to prepare myself for mothers' plea. To calm the raging furnace, I could feel already burning. It wasn't long since our last conversation- the conversation that had thrown me into the deep end of the pool and left me to sink. I felt as though her words were weights dragging me deeper down into the depths of destruction.
As we approached the room, I slipped my hand out of Luz's and gestured for her to return to her reality, eager to shield her from the argument I could feel looming. I placed my hand on the regal door handle, my hands trembling. I felt the cool metal being absorbed by my clammy palms as I stepped over the thresh-hold.
Mother stood facing away from me, her authoritative figure illuminated with light from a nearby window. From where I stood, I could see the outline of her body- her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as if she was in pain.
'Mother...' I spoke, alerting her of my presence.
She turned, her appearance different than before, her usual rosy face was pale and waxy accentuating the dark crimson circles under her eyes.
'Gigi, I know you are angry at me right now..., and I deserve that- but for a moment push that anger to the side and listen.'
'There is something you should know.' She began, her voice cracking with vulnerability.
I had never witnessed her like this- her commanding, dignified and regal state replaced with a fatigued, gaunt, and diminished persona.
'I should have told you a long time ago, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. Now... now- I have no choice.'
Her words echoed in my ears, my heart beginning to race, my stomach beginning to flutter. Dread crept up my spine.
'What is it?' I stammered. Certain this news was not positive.
She hesitated for a moment before letting the waves crash.
'Mi amor, I'm not well.'
Her words rasped as my eyes began to fill with tears, the large chunk of ice-shaped anger melted away-replaced with sorrow-a lump the size of a football hung in my throat, slowly choking me, stopping any oxygen reaching my lungs- my mind flickered to moments where it was clear that something had been wrong, but I ignored it, I brushed it off, pushed it to the back of my mind. It was absurd to think that Queen Alejandra- who stood so tall and so proud could be reduced to something so small and so fragile.
'What, what do you mean?' I croaked.
'I have cancer Gigi...' She whispered her voice breaking like the inevitable outcome of Luz with a glass jug.
'It's serious.' She continued brushing her thumb against the back of my hand, attempting to soothe me. My fingers drummed anxiously as they always did when under extreme stress.
'The doctors... they aren't hopeful.'
She looked so human. Not like the women I knew. The ugly teeth of the situation sunk into my chest, blood seeping from the wound. Her words coiled around me like a snake attempting to crush and devour its prey. Cancer. Aren't looking hopeful.
My legs shook, my head spun, my eyes fogged-thick with salty tears. I fell into the nearest chair, letting its sturdy material consume my body.
'How long?' I whispered, staring off into the distance- disbelief controlling my movements, almost as though in an alternate world.
Her silence sliced through the room, piercing my heart. The jury of life had come to a decision, slamming a death sentence on my waning mother, the judge had struck his gavel, it was confirmed.
I was pulled back into reality, like a character travelling through time. I was hit with an understanding like a freight train crashing into my already broken personality. The proposal. It wasn't a punishment. It was preparation. She wasn't dictating the future for Spain's benefit, rather for my own.
I lifted myself from the soft cushion which had caught me after my mother's solemn words. I placed my shaking hands on the armrests hoisting myself up. Like a new-born lamb, on shaky legs I stumbled towards my mother.
I outstretched my arms, throwing them around her with utmost urgency, as if she would fade away at any moment.
I gripped her tight, whispering softly, 'I'm not angry.'
Her life hung in the balance, perhaps this breath being her last. Her gold crown glistened in the soft light, normally a symbol of her power, of her authority, of her supremacy, however, it no longer felt gold to me-now tainted, blackened, corrupted- a weight she could no longer carry. A weight I must now bear. As I left her fragile figure to rest uninterrupted, the ounce of independence I had was no longer mine. The crown was knocking at the door, begging for entry. Waiting, cowering, hiding- I understood as no longer a choice.