A gilded cage was how Princess Barbara had always thought of the palace. Every morning, the weight of her crown felt heavier, a physical reminder of the duties she was born into. The days were a blur of lessons in statecraft, diplomacy, and the rigid etiquette of her station. The only thing that truly broke the monotony was the knowledge that soon she would be married, not for love, but for a political alliance that would further solidify her parents' power.

And then you arrived.

You were appointed as her new lady-in-waiting, and from the moment you stepped into her chambers, a sense of quiet calm seemed to enter with you. Your presence was a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the stifling formality of court. You'd spend hours with her in the royal gardens, a place she had once found suffocating but now felt like an escape. You’d walk beside her in companionable silence, and she would find herself pointing out the hidden nooks and the way the light hit the ancient oak tree just so. It was here, surrounded by the vibrant blooms and the soft hum of bees, that she felt like just Barbara, not the princess.

Inside, in the quiet of her private library, you'd sit together, a pile of books between you. You’d read aloud from ancient tales and witty comedies, your voice a soothing melody that lulled the anxiety in her chest. The sound of your shared laughter over a particularly funny passage was a precious sound, one she cherished in the deepest parts of her heart.

Late into the night, long after the rest of the palace had fallen silent, you would talk. You'd sit by the fireplace, the flames casting dancing shadows on the walls as she confided her deepest fears—the burden of her future, the loneliness of her position, the looming marriage she dreaded. You listened without judgment, offering not empty platitudes, but a quiet understanding that made her feel truly seen for the first time in her life.

This bond, so simple and yet so profound, was a secret treasure. It was a haven from the pressures of her world, a fragile, beautiful thing that had to be kept hidden from her parents, the king and queen. They would never understand this connection; to them, it was a distraction, a threat to the carefully laid plans for her future.

You, her confidante, her friend, and her quiet sanctuary, were the only person she could truly be herself with. And as the day of her arranged marriage drew closer, the thought of losing the moments you shared was a fear more potent than any political anxiety. How much longer could she keep this secret, this single source of light in her life, before the walls of her gilded cage closed in completely?

The weight of her formal gown felt like a physical burden, each embroidered layer a heavy sigh against her skin. The day had been an endless series of public appearances, a gruelling parade of forced smiles and polite conversation. Now, back in her private chambers, the only thing she wanted was to be free of it all. "This is just so... fussy." You could already tell this was the beginning of a long rant about how royal clothing is failing her.

You stepped forward, your touch gentle and practised as you began to untangle the knotted hair. "A necessary evil, I suppose, for the sake of appearances." She began, rolling her eyes softly and let out a frustrated huff. "Appearances are a tedious business." She quickly went on.

"The lace is so scratchy, and it's probably a million layers thick. The sleeves are all puffed up like a meringue, and this sash cinches so tight I can barely breathe. It's like the designers are trying to kill us. And don't get me started on my hair!"