Princess of Irina

I’m at a meadow and the radiant colours of yellow, lilac, green, white and red are absolutely everywhere. The grass is as tall as the trees here; they smell fresh and are blindingly green. They’re long streaks of emerald. The flora gives the most satisfying aroma and minty fresh. I’ve always admired flowers, but never publicly because William always called me a female. Flowers are not feminine, surely. Something moves in the distance; I am unable to see who or what it is. This meadow is filled with vegetation everywhere, but I’m sure the movement was not the wind. The sun is glaring at me, the blueness of the sky crystal clear and not an ounce of the gush of wind. Suddenly, I see someone emerge from the intense greenery and flowers and for a moment, I believe it to be Aphrodite. The Greek Goddess, she is her modern twin at least. The blond streaks of hair cascading around her shoulders. Her dress is a snowy waterfall elegantly pouring down her perfectly shaped body right up to her knees. All slim, curvy and tanned. At her beautiful feet, light pink laced-pumps. I draw closer to her, and I can inspect her face more clearly. Her eyes are ocean-like and her cherry red lips pop louder than a balloon. Upon her hair sits a silver tiara; the diamonds shine a glorious amount of colours in the sunlight all in a line. The intricate patterns of loops around each diamond and the words Princess of Irina adorned just as loopy at the front of the tiara.

Instinctively, I bow to present her courtesy and I gaze at her startled by such a royal appearance in a meadow in the middle of nowhere. What would a princess be doing in a meadow? She gazes at me as if staring into my soul, I feel exposed. She knows me well, I think. She smiles at me sweetly and I take one whiff and something fragrantly intoxicating makes me feel dizzy. And it isn’t the flowers in this meadow, it’s her.  

“Sweet Iris,” I say, for some unknown reason. I place my hand on her soft cheek and stroke it subtly. She leans into my hand, closes her eyes and takes a refreshing breath.

“Dearest Charles, I love you,” she sings, exquisitely. “My Charles, the kingdom’s greatest thief.” Of course, I am the Kingdom’s greatest thief. I am in love with this woman, Iris. I know where I am. I chuckle at her comment.
“The fairest princess of all kingdoms,” I say.
“Fair as in just?” She giggles slightly and I cannot help but adore that sound. My favourite sound.
“Fair as in beautiful, my lady.”

I take her hand and fall onto one knee. She explicitly blushes and gasps, but she doesn’t clasp her mouth like every other woman does when their other half is about to ask them a significant question. I just notice the pale pinkness of her fingernails and how apt they are painted for yet another diamond for this princess. I pull out the ring from my pocket and a rather substantial glistening rock gleams euphorically in the sunlight.

“My darling, Iris. You are the colour in my cheeks and the shine in my eyes. Every grin my mouth makes is because of you. I think about you everywhere I go. I see the great Vencel Palace and my heart skips a beat. I see you in the sun that shines bright over Irina. I see you in my endless enraptured dreams. I see you in the flowers that grow in this meadow. I see you forever in my heart. In spite of my thieving qualities and my ‘wanted criminal’ status, you still love me. I’ve stolen from your palace, your riches, even you and yet you still love me. I gave you no mercy when you were upset about losing the jewellery Queen Arabella presented to you. Except you didn’t lose it, I stole it. Yet you continued to love me. You are the most beautiful creature in the world. You are above angels in heaven, you are mine to have and embrace. I love you more than worshippers love God. Please, sweet Iris. Do me the extraordinary honour of becoming my wife.”