anne was tired. tired of keeping up appearances. tired of pretending everything was good when, for the past year, it clearly hadn’t been.
the start of the season had left the palace feeling suffocating, but at the same time filled with hope and opportunities. hope that, if she could secure a husband and perhaps the influence that came with it, she might finally be fine again.
she was standing not far from where most of the commotion was happening, looking at the several conversations around her, never far enough to seem an outcast, but never letting anyone pull her in.
“i confess,” she murmured, turning to face the person that had just stepped beside her her, “i sometimes forget how exhausting all of this is.” then a polite smile followed, nothing that would make her seem happy about this entire situation, “but i bet you manage it better than i.”
