She was raised in a modest cottage on the outskirts of the king's Palace, and oil lanterns shine. With her mother and father dotting upon her and King's and Queens were the tiny meadow mice and farm animals she cared for in her younger life. She had a free-spirited soul. That could find beauty even in the darkest of nights. A tiny candle, always lite, flickered in each corner of her mind. She was much like her mother. Whose soul Ella thought was made of the wishing flowers surrounding their home and read to Ella and taught her great literature and told her of all the magicks of the world. She told her that the earth has a voice, as do the animals all around. If you had the heart to listen and lead with kindness instead of a darker sound. Her mother was dainty, and delicate, too.Not more than a farm girl who barely went to school. But when she met Ella's Papa, he saw the beauty beyond her locks in the lass and took it upon himself to spread his wings and teach her the written word, and reading at last. Now that they bore a daughter, her mother was firm in raising her right. Teaching her the same way Ella's father taught her how to care for the farm and the daily tackles of life. Ella felt as if her life was ripped out of a page from one of the fables her mother would read. Her father, a merchant, always bought back exotic scents, fabrics and trinkets for his beauties every time he had left them through the years.They were not poor, or rich by any means. But they never had a need or whim that couldn't be provided by her father's hands, and they even had servants to help with their daily needs. But the servants were not looked upon as other people would treat them. They were equals, families and to be respected at all times, and they looked upon Ella as a little Princess song dove and when she would question, "But I do not wear a crown?" They told her, and her mother would echo too; a crown is just a material want. Her crown came from the stars above and was placed on her by her gentle heart.On the day of her mother's passing, Ella felt a shift in the air long before. In the weeks and months before she became bedridden, she had slowed down her daily chores. Of course, Ella never minded and didn't view the farm as chores or work. She felt, just as a person, that it was alive in spirit and deserved equal love and care. But she could feel her mother's light dwindling, losing the fragrance light in her eyes, and even though her Papa denied it, to himself and her, Ella felt it in her heart. That early afternoon in spring was kissed by an unusual winter chill, and as she was picking raspberries and strawberries in the field, a crisp, strong wind blew. All the wishing flowers she always thought of as her mother's soul, each one a molecule making up her mother's heart, suddenly blew away like tiny fairies trying to escape the pending storm. Ella's small hands and smaller finger pressed upon her rosebud lips, and she dropped the wicker basket she held, and the berries poured over the emerald fields. She sprinted back to her cottage at once and rained through the long butter wheat fields around their home. Each strand whipped her creamy porcelain skin, lashing much more than the flesh it bore. Tears weltered in her forest-colored eyes, and her dark lashes splayed like tiny feathers, each one holding a tear that sparkled like the jewels of her mother's martial ring. As soon as she entered the door, she called out, "Papa? Mama? Where are you?" It was then that her father, with his head shrouding downward, would come into the room.She could see the shadows holding to his silhouette and not one of his frames upon the wall, and she felt the heaviness and tears as he finally explained to Ella her mother was sick and would soon depart. Her eyes swelled with a million tears, equating the rivers and streams around her, and like the floodgates of her soul, she poured and cried, and her father pulled the golden lass into his chest. Once she calmed down just enough, she walked into the room where her mother lay. She was cold, and her father had an array of puffy white blankets that looked to Ella like a chariot to heaven's gate. Even sick, her mother radiated like a stolen sacred flower from the garden of Eden, and as she kneeled besides her mother, her eyes flickered open, pouring in her crystal azures with such depth.Her voice was brittle as if it would break, but she struggled past it, wanting this moment with her daughter before she would pass, and one of her last words to Ella was, "Have courage and be kind, for there is much braver as this, and a heart that leads in such a way can never go wrong, and happiness will fill your days." As the last words spilled from her lips, her cherub face would slump to the side and at that moment, the sun yawned its goodbye and slipped into the horizon below as Ella wept, cried and her father gathered the little dove in his arms....Years with her father-- For many years, it was just the young Ella and her father, along with the servants, that graced their Cottage home. But both kept her mother's memory alive and read the same fables she once read to her. Her father did not know of them all as often as he was away on business abroad, and when Ella would read to him, he would see the same eyes and gentle voice held in her mother's song. He was so proud of his little dove and the young woman she was becoming. She took it upon herself to tend to the animals, and gardens, the same ones her mother planted from scratch. It was a tiny area on the side of their home that her father's family swore would never bear a single plant. Her father, who inherited the home, never questioned his own father's word and had admiration and respect for him in all of his father's days until his soul passed from this world. But his wife, when he was away on travel and the wild magical spirit that she was, planted an array of English flowers, the same ones that graced the palace gardens she adored, and when he came home, you would think he would be brass, but he loved his wife very much and pulled her into his arms. . Ella contained the spirit of her mother and, from him, his wisdom and logical sense. It was a contrast and ribbon between the two that made up Ella's unique spirit and heart, and she remembered her promise to her mother and repeated it each day, letting kindness lead her from the first morning rising star. Years would pass, and her father would long to love again, and Ella could see it in his eyes. One evening, as they sat in his study reading her mother's favourite poems, he had shared with her his wishes to marry a woman and her two youngest daughters. Ella loved her father so very much and embraced him, seeing the fret and worry upon his face. "Father, I do understand and marry you should, for even each petal of a rose is never the exact shade. In life, I believe Papa, loves can be this way too and the most beautiful of roses I have ever seen, "-giggling petting the nape of his neck as she sits upon his lap- "Are the in-perfections that make them ore beautiful still! So marry Papa and love once more! I shall love them too and embrace them whole!"The arrival of her step-mother, sisters and her father's untimely death--It was almost five years to the day since they lost her mother's soul and everything seemed to be perfect once again. Even spring broke into winter's lavish hold. The flowers in her mother's garden were rising under the sleepy soil below, revealing their kept mesmerizing colours in an array of roses, tulips and marigolds. Tiny bee's began to swarm and buzz, flickering their silvery wings in the streaming sunlight, and this would be the day that Ella would meet her father's new bride. She had two daughters, she was told, one only a year younger than the next. Both had hair with tight ringlets and both were well-educated, or so it would seem. But as Ella tended to the garden, she heard the hoofs of two heavy steeds. All of a sudden, a dark, luminous cloud made its descent in an almost perfect morning sky. It came in the form of a woman dressed in the latest of fashions and two daughters at her side. They had welcoming smiles and pleasant voices but the gentleness and sincerity never seemed to touch the shine in their eyes and this is where Ella's mother always told her, that the very essence of truth was written and could not hide. With graciousness and a welcoming soul, Ella excited greeted all the ladies at once and dusted her small hands on her apron before shaking the hands of them all. She noticed right away the coldness she felt as soon as she was next to them. But she shook it to the side and gave them a tour of their beloved, cherished home. One by one they picked apart this or that and even their cat rudely tore into the couch. Ella tried to politely brush him away, but he turned and hissed at her with an evil eyes. Days would pass, and even weeks, and she could still feel the chill in her bones.The cottage even seemed to lose its heart as they rearranged her mothers, pictures and seemed soul. This made poor Ella, tear almost daily, but she continued to try to be gracious and kind and each one of her mother's belongings in the attic where the meadow mice would often hide. Nearly a month would pass, and her father made the announcement that he would have to leave for just a few days. A new ship would port a few towns away and carrying the latest of spices and herbs. Being the kind-hearted man that he was always, he asked each girl what they would like for him to bring back. All spoke of extravagant things, but when not came to Ella, she wanted just one thing. She asked, "Father, I wish for a simple branch. The first one you see on your travels after leaving our town. I wish for you to keep it in your pocket close to your heart for you can always feel me, and think of me in every mile. Then upon your return please give it to me for it will be blessed and priceless having to carry you back home to me. Please, Papa? It's all that I wish for. I just want you back home, and with as much speed as the sun and the moon."It was nearing two weeks, and Ella's heart grew weary with much fright and equal fret. As the other's his new wife and her children rearranged their old cottage, transforming it and erasing her mother's very spirit. They even took down the most beloved portrait her father had spent a month's pay to have done. It was when Ella was barely a sugar plum and only reached as far as his father's knee long, and they sat for over three hours long. It was beautiful, and because it was painted with the finest of French oils, it never lost the lustre of colour in any way. Her mother's angelic eyes still held that glimmer, as though it were the very first day. It was nearly twilight when the news would come, delivered by an old family friend. It was an envelope with the contents of just her branch and the words of the man standing at the door.Ella's knees shook and gave way, and she pummeled to the ground, whimpering and sobbing, crying out why, as a puddle, a river formed all around. The others around gasped in annoyance, more concerned about how they all would survive, as Ellie pulled herself to her knees and stumbled up the stairs with her heart at her side. She sought the attic to rest on that very last night. The one that would redefine her entire life and couldn't sleep, or barely move as she cried in the pitch dark. The very next morning, when she awakened, the world seemed so different and foreign in her eyes, although she was still in her home, with the meadow mice, the King and the Queen at her side. She could feel a shift in the air that chilled her to the bones no matter how many layers she wore, and she nearly jumped, startled, when she heard a pile of dishes shatter on the floor. She gathered to her feet and chased her own shadow, or so it would seem, into the kitchen, where her stepmother's voice soared and roared. She was dismissing all the servants, cooks, and gardeners who never asked for too much.They were more than just hired help; they were the remains of Ella's family, a life she was losing as her stepmother barked on. Her teeth looked like sharp, jagged knives, ripping away each page in her life as she watched them scatter along the floor like burning feathers right in her sights. The staff all turned to Ella with tears staining down their cheeks and sniffling noses as they all shared the same fear of what would happen to the fair beauty they watched sprout up. Some even offered to stay with nothing more than food, shelter and a bed. But her stepmother insisted she couldn't even afford this and asked them to leave at once instead. More parts of her heart were taken from her that day, but still, she braved a smile and hugged each one of them, thanking them for being a part of her life.She gave them each a token from their home. Something they could look upon and remember, and I made them promise each other that they would send telegrams wherever they would land. They waved goodbye, and she held her head high in the thought that they were meant to go to this place in time. She was sure, because they all led with their hearts and knew to always be kind, that they would find a better place, even more so than this, and that their lives would be wonderful and sweet. These thoughts alone kept her heart feeling light, in spite of the darkness she could feel. Her stepmother's answer to the lack of help was to pour it upon poor Ella's back, and as much as she tried to resent this fact in caring for her childhood home, and her father's before him, she just couldn't do it. She looked upon it as an honor to be given such a big responsibility, and although some may view it as cruel, Ella tried to look upon it differently. Perhaps she was raised with less of a mother than she was blessed to have. Or maybe she simply did not know better, not wanting anything in her life. Whatever the reason, Ella was sure that one day her heart would soften if she just loved her beyond, and so, she did just this to spite all the daily harshness she would face and held a smile on her lips, eyes and heart.In her days, she made their breakfast and cleaned and hemmed in between. As well as tending to the farm animals outside, but this was the better part of her days. Ella finished her days all the same, and when the moon pinched up high in the inky sky. A ghostly apricot, pale and white, shimmers like a million stars. Her mother would tell her this was the best time to garden, when the roots were sleepy and still. She would add to their bedding the rich birthing soil and tuck each one gingerly in. At times, a winter chill would kiss the air pouring along the hills and the smokey mountain sides, like a vapor cascading downward over the tips of what looked like a saber tooth tiger. She would rip a piece of her hemming and wrap it around its frail little stems, warming it up just enough, so it wouldn't falter, shiver or bend. But some days, even for the little dove, her life would bear down much harder than others, and it was then that she had someone besides her who would cradle her and read her stories, as her mother once told her.On this particular day, just after breakfast, young Ella nearly lost her grasp. One of the field mice, whom she looked upon as family, was nearly eaten by their cat. He was so close, in fact, that the tiny mouse had teeth marks dragged across his fur. It's when Ella first brought him to safety in the attic, which she now shares with them. Then she reached for her shawl and headed to the stables, tears streaming like wildfire down her face as she leaped, twisted her tiny frame upon the steed, and galloped far, far away.Her eyes glazed over, and all she could hear was the steady gallop of the steed she rode upon. It was the very last part of her father's life. She refused to allow her stepmother to sell, trying, as she would say, to raise money to support them all. Ella knew he was worth some money as he was an Arabian pure raven hair steed and still very much so in the prime of his life as they melted beyond the carved-out path and into the denser darker of trees'. The soil blackened in this part of the forest as it was hardly touched by men, and the tree's had what almost looked to be decorating vines circling and twirling up the rich brown bark. Its branches of various kinds—oaks, maples and willows—grew wildly along the overgrown emerald-slick grass, and as her vision cleared, she could see many nests belonging to varying birds dotting along the edges of each branch.The air was so moist with a sweet, earthy scent that it invigorated her young mind and soul, and it almost had the power to fade away all the pain that she truly hid so well. But even this she knew had a reason to. Maybe the cat was neglected and not fed breakfast or yesterday's meal and was just too hungry out of sorts and only saw her friend the mouse as a savory meal. If he hadn't, then she would not have found this enchanted forest hushed so far away from the normal path she would travel, and she wouldn't have seen all the beauty around her if he hadn't made such a haste and mess. That's when she heard branches crackling all around her, or at least this is what she thought, as Ella turned her cherub face and brown spilling eyes all around, looking to where that sound could have been had. It was then that she finally locked eyes with an animal as gentle as he was soft.His fur was a dusting of crimson golden strands with little specks of wishing stars. He had two antlers so twisted and divine that she thought in his kind he must be royalty and his two black stones, onyx eyes, wide teardrops, and long lavish laces blinked almost frightened and petrified, which confused Ella, for she thought herself to be meek and unguarded. That's when they both shivered, hearing a hunting horn in the not-so-far distance and the galloping of many steeds sounding like the toppling of a tree's closing in the distance. Her heart sounded just as loud, and she felt it ripple inside as her lips perched tightly in fear as she gazed at the gentle one before her, and raised her voice, terrified for him." Go! You must run, and do so quickly; they are not too far behind us! I will try to distract them and if I can, but please, you must depart from this side of the forest!" She swore she could see him bow and blink with a single tear in his eyes as he leaped over a thick branch in front of him and just as quick as he appeared, he was gone, and she sighed, feeling a cool sweat bead upon her.A smile perched her trembled pink lips and her young breast rose above the powder blue bodice and deep bone lining, and she couldn't help but to giggle now, knowing this was yet another reason for that cat to act as he did before her. If she hadn't been in that forest, maybe the deer would have perished if the huntsman had found him and instead of roaming free he would have been on someone's plate before night would befall upon him. She was so relieved and suddenly felt so light, as if the entire world light up around her, and just when she was ready to find her way back home she heard the hoofing of a horse behind her.Ella tugged upon her steed, the leather strapping around the nape of his neck, turned and was faced with a nobleman on a grand horse in front of her. At that moment, the wind slightly picked up, and the different shades of green leaves swirled around all around them, and the ones that fluttered on the branches rustled in nature's song as they both stood gazing at each other. Her sun-drenched wheat coloured tresses spun as wildly as they did in the fields around her childhood home, and the fluctuating rise of her ample breast like two white clouds straining in her bodice before him. His eyes looked like the precious silk laces she kept on the side of her bed, wet and pristine, capturing all the light around him like seeing magical mirrors held to a certain haze. The curtaining of his black spooling hair and wavy locks framed his chiselled cheeks and the top of his thinking forehead as he looked as confused as she to find another soul in this depth of the forest.It was then that Ella would see his sword and hunting horn and her face, moments before soft and inviting, scowled at him with squinting eyes and a perfect pink pout transforming quickly in front of his eyes, and she asked, "What did he ever do to you, Sir, to be hunted and scared in his natural home? His poor heart is nearly giving way to fright. Could you please spare him some kindness and let him go and be in peace, leaving you and your men behind him?" She paused and tugged her bottom lips in the pearl of her teeth and nervously fretted about her steed and gazed behind her to make sure he really departed, and, thankfully, she couldn't see him. As she turned back to the gentleman, she was captured in his eyes once again, but she tried to keep her head held up to give confidence to her every word. In a much softer tone than before, she spoke again and petted her horse's thick black mane. "You know, Sir, sometimes it takes more courage and bravery to show kindness in a world seemingly built for anything such, especially when you truly do not have to."
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