Young Writers Society

Cast Iron Birdcage

The lace wrap was heavy between the pads of her fingers. Her eyes were squeezed shut, trying not to see her reflection in the pool before her. Her body stood naked with skin deathly pale and her private’s cleanly shaven. She felt self-conscious about the way her legs curved and how her buttocks shone with oil. Hazy morning sunlight stretched across the cavernous bedroom floor, gleaming upon her unprotected, fragile body.

She slowly drew the lace across her breasts. Bringing it up across her shoulder, she left it floating over her gently chiseled back muscles. The thin white skirt from beside the pool seemed to cruelly laugh at her, and she could not bear to look at it. Its embroidered adornments of light blue lilies and green vines stayed imprinted upon her eyelids. Lifting it gingerly, she pulled it up over her legs so that it tightened just below her belly button. It fell to her ankles, and each side was slit open up to her mid-thigh. Reaching behind her, she took hold of the lace and wrapped it around her torso twice over so that it stayed put. Then, she reworked the skirt enough that the two cloths appeared as one piece of clothing.

Opening her eyes, she gazed at herself upon the surface of the pool. Her cinnamon hair sat atop her head in a neatly braided bun. A meaningless bunch of pale blue and green feathers sprouted from its side. She covered her mouth with the back of her palm and let out a silent bout of tears. She was beautiful but not by choice. She did not want to be wearing that dress. She wanted to be outside wearing leggings and a vest, dancing on the marble staircase that led to the gardens. She wanted to be playing with her little siblings at the waterfall, or studying with her friend Sergio. She wanted to be lying in bed, with Maura rubbing her feet and telling her a story late at night, when the moon was high in the sky and it was far past the time when she should be asleep.

A quiet knock on the door pulled her from her wishing and led her to wipe her eyes just before her mother appeared beside her. Her mother gazed at her with a distant smile. She took her daughters cheeks in her hands and kissed her daughters forehead.

“Do not be ashamed of this marriage, my dear Aurynn,” she whispered into Aurynn's ear.

Aurynn leaned forward into her mother’s arms, careful not to mess up her marriage attire. Her mother held her tight for a moment, stroking her neck softly. From somewhere far away, a trumpet sounded. Aurynn felt herself seize with anxiety. There was no way to get out of this now. Her loss of freedom was no more than a few moments away. Inescapable, her looming marriage lay heavily upon her heart, and she did the only thing she knew how to do. She took a deep breath and buried herself beneath her wedding dress. No love would shine in her eyes, yet no hate would gather there either. She would neither care for nor despise Him who waited outside for her.

Aurynn avoided her mother’s face, looking instead at the lily pads and lotus flowers floating in the pool. She wished only to make her mother proud, and to do that, she had to bind herself to Him. It was her duty.

“You are beautiful, my daughter,” her mother whispered, smiling sadly.

She pulled Aurynn's hand into hers and kissed her daughters fingers. Suddenly, seeming to realize that she was pressed for time, Aurynn's mother began to work on her daughter. Aurynn had to look perfect for this. There could be no flaw.

As was custom, Aurynn's mother painted her daughters hands with dark blue ink. While that dried, she filled the braided bun with hair pins, each with a single large pearl that added elegance to the simple shade of brown. Once the ink had dried, Aurynn's mother slipped six rings upon each hand, evenly distributing them among the three middle fingers. Each ring symbolized a customary necessity for marriage. One symbolized beauty, another fragility and another loyalty, and the last three were honesty, obeying, and limitation. Marriage was a birdcage, one that Aurynn feared more than anything else in the world. She could be as beautiful as she wished, just like a canary bird, but her beauty would always come second to the cast-iron bars of her marital life.

Her mother stood back and inspected her. A second knock came from the door, and Maura appeared beside Aurynn's mother. Maura's hair was short and black, her dress one of tangerine silk. Her eyes widened with delight at the sight of Aurynn. She had been Aurynn's lady in waiting for years, but now Maura would belong to her mother. Aurynn knew her mother would take care of the sweet girl.

“Oh, mistress, you look eloquent!” she yelped quietly.

“Come, child, we must go,” her mother led Aurynn to the door and she took a deep breath before walking into the hall and leaving her beloved room.

Outside, the halls were lit by sunlight and candlelight, and rose petals decorated the floors. She followed her mother towards the entrance doors, as Maura followed behind her, attaching a short veil to the back of Aurynn's braided bun now stuck with pearls and feathers. The closer the three women came to the door, the louder the trumpets became. The music was lovely and sad and it made Aurynn want to weep. They entered the grand ball room and crossed it before pausing behind the great oak doors. Aurynn felt herself shaking and she could feel her face flushing scarlet. Her mother glanced at her and sighed, shaking her head.

“Aurynn, that is not okay. You must calm yourself,” her mother came close to her and, concerned, stroked her cheeks, trying to banish the nervous rosiness from them.

Aurynn bit her lip and told herself to stop acting like such a child. She was of marriage age, so why was she dreading it so? She had known that it would happen, but she could never have guessed it would happen with Him. She lifted her dark blue hands and grabbed her mother’s wrists gently.

“Mother, stop it. Do not play with me like I am a fragile doll. I need strength from you,” Aurynn said quietly. Her mother’s eyes grew wide, then they softened and she let her arms drop to her sides. A smile flitted across her mother’s lips.

“Oh, my child, how have you grown. I trust you know that I do understand, I just do not want to lose you,” she whimpered.

“You will not lose me, mother, I will always be your daughter. I will always be yours, not His,” Aurynn promised.

“Hush, now, do not speak so-” she was cut off by the sharp voice of slow beating drums. “He has arrived, child. We must go to meet him, and join your hands in marriage.”

Aurynn bit her lip again to keep herself calm. Maura swung the doors open and without hesitation, her mother marched her through the door into the small crowd of people awaiting the brides arrival. Aurynn felt scrutinized under their gazes, and she wished she could cover her breasts better. She felt as if her entire soul was floating for all to see, and that everyone could see right through her; that they knew exactly what she was thinking. Ahead of them stood the priest, with his white and yellow robes and his large brown bible.

Just to his right stood a man who struck Aurynn as older than she would have liked. As her mother led her to where the priest and the man stood, she was able to inspect the man more closely. He wore long, thick robes of purple and gold, where under the robes he wore a white shirt under an intricate purple tunic. The vest donned gold outlined pockets and thin black stripes, as well as a white handkerchief and a small red rose. The man wore simple black leggings and tall brown boots. He appeared a simple, honest man, with much dignity and an overbearing amount of pride. The way he held himself seemed to hum into the crowd his high stature and place in society.

Aurynn felt belittled in his presence. He was the King, after all.

Her mother led her to her spot across from the King and beside the priest. Giving her one last kiss on the head, Aurynn's mother disappeared into the crowd. Aurynn could feel her insides rattling, yet she managed to keep her face pale and her hands still. Staring ahead of her, she looked at the King, feeling like a child under his heavy gaze. A slight smile played at his lips, and his orange-nutmeg hair was flattened atop his head. A thin layer of hair sprouted from his chin and jaw, but not enough to overpower the wrinkles in his face. Aurynn had expected him to look hard and steadfast, but instead, his skin appeared healthy and glowing and his very aura felt full of life. Gray hair was tickled between his orange curls, and the few wrinkles in his face did not detract from his obvious handsomeness. Aurynn felt herself taken away by the surprising way the King looked. She had always imagined him as a grouchy, hunchbacked man who only barked orders to his people to pay him taxes. With what she saw now, she was sure that this man was not who she thought he was.

Carefully, she raised her eyes to meet his.

There was no moment of true love, no burst of miniature hearts around his head, and no feelings that struck her heart and intended to stay. There was only a sense of duty.

She could tell that even though he wanted this, he wouldn't have, had it not been his duty. And she knew that he saw the same thing in her eyes. Although she felt no striking feelings of love for him, she did feel a sense of pity growing in her heart. What may have been love was present in his eyes, but what felt much more present was the sadness that was trapped behind it. The love could have been a lie, she would never know, but the sadness was unbearably real, more real, perhaps, than his very hand reaching out for hers. More real than the rings that he slipped onto each one of her hands. More real than his promise of I do and more real than her promise of I do.

As the King leaned forward and kissed her on her bittersweet, papery lips, she found that in every movement he portrayed, the sadness followed like melted tar upon his limbs. He kissed her, though neither one of them kissed the other back.

That kiss was the lock, and now the birdcage was closed.