Cecilia was awake when the first light of morning broke through the window of her cell. She hadn’t slept the night before. There would be plenty of time to sleep when she was dead.

It was a morbid thought to have at the young age of twenty, but the princess had accepted her fate a long time ago. Her father was dead, and she was the stupid little girl who had allowed her aunt to put her in such a position. She should have known better. She should have seen the signs... the warnings.

But those were all things that she had laid awake at night thinking of years ago. The months leading up to her execution were not quite as thoughtful. Five years in a cell could do that to a person. Now she just wondered what death would feel like. She had seen an execution before (not that she particularly enjoyed them, but it was her duty to attend such events when her father was alive), and it appeared to her that it was a painless process. No screaming or crying. It seemed to be the way to go. Definitely better than how her father had perished... grasping at his throat and panicking while the poison did its wicked work.

As the sun beams cast long bars of light on the floor, Cecilia laid on her crude bed, blue eyes trained on the corner of the room where a spider weaved her web. She didn’t dislike spiders. They were a common fixture in the garden. She decided that was what she would miss the most about living: the garden. Her hands in the dirt and the smell of flowers and herbs all around her. So much better than the dank, stale smell of her cell.

It was probably perverse that Cecilia was actually sort of excited for noon to come. She had not felt the warmth of the sun or breathed truly fresh air in years. While the spider tied intricate knots in her web with her little feet, the princess began to ready herself for the big day. This would be a public appearance, after all, and she would not have it said that the daughter of King William Alderton was not prepared to face her subjects.

Brushing through her hair was a task. While once a lovely light brown that brushed her shoulders in soft waves, her hair was now long and limp. It was weighed down from years of neglect and lack of proper washing. The princess winced as she dragged her fingers carefully through the knots and matted areas at the back of her head, making sure to pick out the hay that had imbedded itself inside. She wouldn’t be able to wear it down, that much was certain. She opted instead to braid it to the best of her ability and crudely pin it back away from her face and neck. Her fingers brushed absently over the back of her neck. Easy access for the executioner. How generous of her.

With her morning routine complete, Cecilia had nothing left to do but wait. She stood on her toes to peer through the barred window and into the yard. Servants were already setting up the area, preparing for her death. Frowning, she turned her attention back to the spider instead. She had finished her web and was now lying in wait for the poor creature that would wander into her trap.

Cecilia lifted her dirty, too-short skirt to kneel before the spider. Tentatively, she reached out and swiped her finger through a corner of the web, collapsing one half of it. The spider scurried to where the princess had destroyed her hard work and immediately went back to weaving.

“No reason why both of us should be bored,” Cecilia said softly.