REGINA

I named her Psyche because I wanted my soul to be free, like the bird she was. Psyche was a well-trained carrier pigeon, a gift from Leopold, on our wedding day. This was probably the only thing the kind king has given me that I genuinely cared for.

Leopold. Where do I even begin? He is a good king. A generous ruler. An exceptional father. But his heart never left Queen Eva, and for that my life has been a curse. My life, an eternal prison. My mother had already killed the only man who brought me happiness. My mentor Rumplestiltskin had already proven to me that death was as final as it sounded. Daniel was never coming back. Despite my attempts to bring him here, back to our world of the living, back to me, I came out of that endeavor fruitless. And what does my very kind and generous husband do? He takes away the one last thing I held dear.

My freedom.

For King Leopold hadn't observed my love for the outdoors. For King Leopold expressed his wishes for me to essentially become a stay-at-home mother looking after his insipid daughter. Me? A housewife? Oh, for heaven's sake, no.

How glorious would it be to be able to feel the wind whipping through my hair again as I ride a horse, galloping across the green meadows outside? How wonderful would it be to be able to smell the fresh clean air and feel the warmth of the sun prickling my skin? Will I ever get the chance to feel that again? Will my life remain a prison until I breathe my last? Only time will tell.

I step into my room, exhausted from the morning's festivities. Snow was having a slumber party with the other young princesses across the land, and I was busy prepping her up in a dress as her nanny Johanna cleans up her messy room. Insolent child. Dressing up Snow should not have been that hard, but the brat was a fickle one.

"Oh, this cannot be," she said on that first dress, "This is too white."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I say through clenched teeth, "But you look great in it, dear."

She shakes her head. "My mother told me I must never wear anything so white, as my skin is pale and it would make me look like I am a ghost."

Why would she get you a white dress then? I wanted to say, but I curb my tongue. Instead, I rummage through her closet and pick a pink one to show her. "What about this?"

She nods her head. "Let's try it on."

I help her into it and when we finish, she shakes her head once more. "No. It's too girly."

At this point, my blood had already risen tenfold. "I thought you said you liked this dress." I distinctly remember her wearing it during one of her friend's birthdays.

Snow sighs. "My mother told me I must never wear anything so girly, as others should also see my versatility and strength through my dress."

"So which one would you like?" I snap, but she did not seem to notice my sour mood. I watch as she ponders this for a moment. "Blue," she says, "I'd like to wear blue."

We went through three more dresses after that. Apparently sky blue and aqua blue were too "baby-like" for her tastes, now that she has grown.

I was thankful the morning finally came and went. I sit by the edge of my bed as I look out at the world outside, through glass windows, of course. I sigh. The queen of nothing, that is what I am. What good is it to be the ruler of a kingdom if I cannot do as I please? By the window, Psyche is perched on her cage, occasionally pecking at the food I placed there earlier today. I marvel at her body, so white and pure. She looks at me and tilts her head, as if to ask what was wrong.

I laugh. "You want to go outside too, don't you?" I ask. I approach my pet and open up her cage. "Yeah, me too." Psyche flies to my hand, purring as her claws touch my skin. "The difference between you and me, your master actually lets you out once in a while."

I open my balcony door and step out, then bring my arm up toward the sun. Psyche flaps her wings and leaves me. I watch her as she flies away, marvelling at her wings as she hovers out the afternoon sky.

"Bring me something good this time!" I call out.

She always brought back something for me, usually a twig or a flower. This time however, she surprises me.

Today, Psyche brings home a white-feathered fletching.

I take the item from Psyche to examine it closely. It had come off from the end of an arrow, a fast moving one. I furrow my eyebrows. The ends of the feathers have been purposely yanked out. Why would an archer take out his arrow's fin? I was not schooled in the sport of archery, but I was smart enough to understand the importance of the fletching in aerodynamic equipment. Without it, an arrow's movements would be unstable and unpredictable. I shake my head. The owner of this fletching was probably a novice archer, a complete idiot. Still, I keep it inside my bedside drawer.

"Thank you, Psyche," I say, and I return her to her cage before I lay in bed to relax.

Notes:

Psyche. Greek origin. "Soul", or "Breath of Life".

Fletching. Collective fins at the end of an arrow or dart, usually made of feathers. Used for arrow stability.