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MidReal Story
The Governess's Regret
Scenario:Uma história de terror macabra sobre uma garota do século 19 que faz de tudo para alcançar os padrões da época para de casar com o príncipe. Porém ela e mais 20 garitas lutam pela coroa. A protagonista se tortura e faz de tudo MESMO para estar nos padrões
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Anya
She is a young woman living in a 19thcentury kingdom, striving to become a princess by any means necessary. She is determined, desperate, and selfcritical. Her parents died young, and she was raised by a harsh governess. Anya faces fierce competition with nineteen other girls for the prince's affection. She endures physical and emotional hardships, such as fasting and wearing heavy corsets, to prove her worth but remains skeptical of her chances.
Governess
She is Anya's strict and demanding governess after her parents' death. She is harsh, disciplined, and controlling. Raised among the poor but forced into the governor's household through circumstance, she views Anya with resentment and attempts to break her spirit through physical punishment and emotional torment. Her extreme rules govern Anya's life, contributing to Anya’s selfdoubt and sense of inadequacy as she tries to fit into the role of a future princess.
Governor's Daughter
She is the governor's daughter and a rival of Anya in the competition for the prince's attention. She is beautiful, manipulative, and confident. Her father's position gives her an advantage, but she often taunts and humiliate Anya to maintain her status. Despite her seemingly aloof demeanor, she shows vulnerability when Anya inadvertently leaves her hair ribbon outside a church, revealing her true nature and hinting at underlying competition and tension.
I do everything in my power to make sure I can become a princess.
Everything.
I mean, anything.
Anything at all.
No matter how painful it is, I will do it.
I will do anything to make sure I get that crown.
Twenty other girls are competing with me to become the future princess of this kingdom, but I will not lose.
I will not give up.
I will make sure that no matter what happens, I will be the one standing on the altar with Prince Frederick in my white wedding dress.
Even if it kills me.
Which right now, it just might.
"Come on, Anya. You can do better than that," my governess, Miss Fletcher, yells at me as she w##s my back with her cane.
I can feel the b##d dripping down my legs as it soaks into my white stockings.
"I am trying my best," I cry out as I hold onto the iron bars of the treadmill for dear life.
Sweat pours down my face as I stare at the red stairs below me.
I have been running on this thing for hours and I am beyond exhausted.
But Miss Fletcher seems to think that if I can run for five more minutes, then I will be able to fit into my size two corset tomorrow for my final fitting before the prince arrives for our ball.
The first time I wore one of these c###s, I fainted from lack of air.
And that was a size four!
But if I want to be a princess, then I have to look the part.
Which means no c##s and no f#t.
"I don’t think I can fit into a size two," I say to Miss Fletcher as she finally stops the treadmill and I fall to the ground.
"You are going to have to break my ribs," I tell her as I look up at her with pleading eyes.
She stares at me for a long time before she finally says, "Fine. But don’t say that I didn’t warn you."
I nod my head as she helps me off of the floor and over to a table where she wraps bandages around my torso.
She pulls them so tight that I can barely breathe and then she sits on top of me while pressing down on my c##t.
I hear the first crack of my ribs and I scream out in pain.
Miss Fletcher tells me to shut up and that it is not ladylike to scream.
So, I bite down on my hand as the next two r#s crack.
I am sure that I am going to pass out from the pain but somehow, I manage to stay awake.
After that, Miss Fletcher helps me into my c##t and we pull it tight until I can barely breathe.
But somehow, we managed to get me into a size two. For the next three months, we repeat this process every week.
I also start using 19th-century face creams that are made from p####s ingredients like m###y, l#d, and a###c.
They make my skin look pale and ghostly white but they also burn like hell when I put them on my face.
I also use belladonna for my eyes which dilates them and makes them appear bigger.
I also pinch my cheeks every day for ten minutes until they turn bright red from the blood rushing to them.
It makes me look like I am blushing all of the time and gives me a healthy glow.
The only problem is that it hurts like hell when you are pinching your own cheeks for ten minutes straight every day for three months straight. Finally, after months of torture, the trials arrive.
The king and queen have invited all twenty of us girls to their castle for a ball where we will be able to meet their son, Prince Frederick, for the first time since he has returned home from his trip abroad.
I arrive at the castle in a fancy carriage with Miss Fletcher by my side.
We are led to a room that has been assigned to us for the duration of our stay.
It is small with only one window that looks out over the gardens.
Miss Fletcher inspects every inch of the room to make sure that it is up to her standards before she finally lets me sit down on the bed.
I can’t stop thinking about my meeting with Prince Frederick tomorrow and I spend the rest of the day practicing my smile in front of the mirror and pinching my cheeks until they are bright red.
Miss Fletcher makes me stand in front of her and practice my posture.
She says that I am slouching too much and that I need to stand up straighter if I want to make a good impression on the prince.
Then she makes me practice introducing myself to her over and over again until I get it just right. "Hello, my name is Anya. It’s nice to meet you," I say in a loud, clear voice as I extend my hand out to her.
"Very good," she says as she shakes my hand.
"Now, let’s practice your curtsy."
I drop down into a curtsy and hold it for a few seconds before standing back up again.
"Perfect," she says as she claps her hands together in excitement.
"You are going to make a great impression on the prince tomorrow."
I smile at her as she leads me over to the bed and tells me to lie down and get some sleep.
I do as she says but it takes me a long time to fall asleep because I am so excited about meeting the prince tomorrow. When I finally do fall asleep, I dream about all of the things that I am going to say to him when we meet tomorrow.
I plan out every word and every movement that I am going to make when we are together.
I want everything to be perfect when we meet for the first time in three years.
The next morning, Miss Fletcher wakes me up early and helps me get ready for the day.
She styles my hair into an elaborate bun and helps me put on my dress.
It is a beautiful white gown with intricate lace details on the hem and sleeves.
As I stand in front of the mirror, Miss Fletcher gives me a final once-over.
"You look like a vision, Anya," she says, adjusting a stray curl.
"Thank you, Miss Fletcher," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "But what if he doesn't remember me?"
"Don't worry, my dear. Just be yourself and let your beauty shine through," she advises.
I nod, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves.
We make our way down to the grand hall where the other girls are already gathered.
I see Prince Frederick standing at the front of the room, his back to us as he talks to one of his servants.
As we approach, he turns around and our eyes meet for the first time in three years.
For a moment, I think I see a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but it quickly disappears, replaced by a cold, distant stare.
I remember that night in the fields like it was yesterday.
The way he looked at me with such warmth and kindness in his eyes.
The way he smiled at me and made me feel like I was the only person in the world. But now, as I stand before him in this grand hall, I can't help but notice how different he looks.
His eyes are darker, his expression colder.
He seems more mature, more serious than I remember.
But maybe that's just because he's been away for so long, I tell myself.
Maybe once we get to know each other again, things will go back to normal.
"Your Highness," I say, curtsying low in front of him.
"It's nice to meet you."
He barely acknowledges me before turning his attention back to his servant.
I force a smile onto my face as Miss Fletcher nudges me forward.
"Go on," she whispers in my ear.
"Introduce yourself."
I take another step forward and extend my hand towards him.
Everyone turns to see what happened and that is when we see him.
He is standing there with a look of shock on his face.
He looks like he just saw a ghost.
I linger near the prince, determined to catch his eye again.
But it's clear that he's annoyed by my presence, and I can't blame him.
After all, I am just one of twenty girls vying for his attention.
As the reception dinner begins, I watch the prince closely, studying his every move.
He seems to be enjoying himself, laughing and talking with the other girls.
I notice that he spends a lot of time with one girl in particular, a beautiful blonde who seems to be getting more and more flustered as the night goes on.
As the night wears on, I start to feel more and more frustrated.
Why can't he see me?
Why can't he remember our night together in the fields?
Just as I'm about to give up hope, one of the girls stands up from her seat and excuses herself from the table.
The prince follows her out of the room, and I decide to follow them too. I keep my distance as they walk down a hallway and out into a secluded garden.
I hide behind a bush as they stop in front of a fountain.
The girl turns to face the prince, and I can see the desire in her eyes.
She reaches out and touches his face, and then they share a passionate kiss.
I can't believe what I'm seeing.
The prince is kissing another girl right in front of me!
I gasp, unable to contain my shock, and the sound echoes through the garden.
The prince pulls away abruptly, his eyes scanning the darkness until they land on me.
"Anya?" he says, his voice a mix of surprise and something else—something that sounds like regret.