Years ago, a little girl used to wait here, leaning on the arch.
She hoped her father, the caretaker, would open that little gate above those stairs and invite her into the palace that lay beyond.
Instead, every time he would come down and take her back to their dingy cottage in the valley.
“No, my dear. The queen doesn’t want any kids wandering in the corridors of the palace. She detests kids.”
Now the queen is long dead. Royalty is not revered anymore.
But I am the new owner of the still beautiful palace. I married my beloved prince.
Word Count: 100
This post is a part of #FridayFotoFiction