"Stay still, you useless child," Lady Livia August snapped from her perch by the bedroom door. 

The small seven-year-old boy instantly straightened on the uncomfortable wooden stool.  He tried and failed to hold back his grimace as his long chestnut brown locks of hair were yanked mercilessly, only to be chopped off.  

He stared at the mirror for a long time, watching strands of dark hair fall to the floor around him. The soft hiss of scissors slicing through hair filled the boy's heart with sorrow. He glanced up from the marble tile floor and blue eyes met his own in the mirror, they were his crystal blue eyes yet, not his own. 

He stared at the mirror for a long time, watching the burly maid chop through his hair. She didn't seem to care that some strands were slightly longer, or that some locks curled more than others. Her sausage-like fingers just kept assaulting his hair as if it were a mess of tangled vines. Her pudgy face would squish up sometimes when her fingers hit a knot that she thought she had brushed out. 

"When will Estella come back, mother?" 

A sudden snap echoed through the ornate bedroom as Lady August violently closed her lacey purple fan.

Too far, I overstepped. He flinches, cowering at the loud clicks of his mother's high heels on the white marble floor. 

The tugging of his hair stopped as the burly maid backed away from the approaching Lady August.  That permanent scowl that she wore around him appeared in the mirror behind him, her deep blue eyes swirling with hatred as they bore into the boy.

"Estella will not come back anytime soon, Elijah, and you will not speak of her unless someone asks about her," Lady August snapped, "if someone asks about her what will you say?"

"Estella has moved in with aunty and uncle Delra to learn etiquette because she is too frail for royal life right now."

"Good boy, Elijah," Lady August smiled wickedly before turning away.

Elijah turned to watch as Lady August left the bedroom with nothing more than a dismissive scoff. A heavy hand pushed on his shoulder, forcing him to look back at his reflection. A surge of anger flowed through him as he stared at the short golden curls that wound around his ears and hovered just above his eyes. 

"Let's get you dressed for your introduction ceremony," the maid almost ordered as she pulled Elijah from the wooden stool, not bothering to sweep up the locks of hair surrounding him.

He hopped awkwardly over large locks of hair, trying not to get any hair stuck to the bottom of his bare feet. After just barely getting around the hair scattered all over the floor the maid pulls him into the center of his bedroom and disappears for a moment before returning with a stack of clothes.

"Put these on," she said roughly, shoving the clothes impatiently into the boy's arms.

Before he could utter a word, she turned and stomped out of his room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Elijah paused for a moment, processing the events of that day. A bull, that's what that maid reminds me of, a big angry bull. He laughed softly at himself and looked down at the plain shirt and pants and the ornate jacket at the top of the pile. His laughter quickly faded into a solemn frown as he quickly got dressed and stood in front of the full-size mirror in the corner of his bedroom. 

He stared at the reflection before him, a young prince. To continue the family legacy, he must forget Estella, forget the past and strive forward, head held high. 

 With a deep breath the boy held his chin high and strode through the doors and into the world beyond.