Four - Diaspro's Decision

                                    

                                          
Diaspro glared at the deep red gown with the force of all the hatred and anger she nursed in her heart. If looks could destroy, the dress would be nothing more than wisps of smoke. But alas, as they couldn't, the dress remained standing there, unflinching as its owner directed her feelings onto it.
Envy and resentment had made a permanent home in her gut two years ago and refused to leave. Now they both flared up at the news that she would have no choice but to watch as the only man she'd ever loved embraced the witch he'd left her for. No choice but to plaster on a smile and pretend to be oh-so-glad in front of everyone's watching eyes.
How she wished things had gone differently that day two years ago. She sometimes wondered about all the different thingsshe might have made in order to defeat Bloom, and these thoughts kept her up each night as she blamed herself.
She would have surely drowned in this pool of depression and self-hate had it not been for one person sticking firmly by her side.
Violet.
Out of her countless relatives and friends, only one told her that she was not to blame. Only she had grasped her softly and let her sob her heart out. Only she had refused to tell tabloids and other gossip mongers the "juicy" news about her dating life.
And only she was the reason Diaspro still considered going to Eraklyon's anniversary celebration tomorrow.
The two of them had been friends for over a decade, and had been with each other through highs, lows and every milestone of their lives thus far. When she had still been engaged to Prince Sky, Diaspro had even gushed over plans of Violet being her maid of honour. Of course, that was pointless now, she thought bitterly, but still, it was for this friend the blonde decided she would attend, even as she pushed over the displayed dress pettily, feeling that she should be able to display her anger at least once in her forsaken life.
Her maid Marcy gasped and implored her, "Please, Your Highness, be careful! It's what you'll be wearing to the celebration tomorrow."
Diaspro sighed bitterly. "If I had a choice, I wouldn't be going to that celebration at all."
"I know, Your Highness," she said with a softly understanding sigh. "But I also know despite your . . . experiences, you'll go even if it is just for the sake of representing our dominion. And you'll be the best to do the job."
The blonde's face softened at that, even whilst a new sense of guilt settled in. "Thank you for your kind words, Marcy. I'm only sorry my anger ruined your hard work."
At this, Marcy only laughed. "You haven't got a thing to apologise for. If I may, I'd like to say that I think you've kept your temper very well. Her Majesty would be impressed by you."
Diaspro's smile took on a strained quality at the mention of her mother, but it nonetheless remained as she thanked the maid again, asking then for some much needed privacy.
Once she was alone in her room, the smile finally fell off and she sighed as she sat and reclined onto her bed.
How could she even begin to mentally prepare for the event? The longer she thought of it, the sicker it made her feel.
But even as this looming anxiety was building up within her, she became acutely aware of the way her mirror was melding before her eyes. She realised with alarm that something was trying to get through.
It ended up being a someone instead. An admittedly handsome someone, a man with locks of flowing ash hair, exited from it. He wore a placid smile, but despite it, she knew immediately that it hid something unpleasant underneath. For it was similar to the expression she often wore herself, had in fact been wearing not more than five minutes ago. Yet his one was more sinister somehow, and a voice in her head warned her to tread carefully.