In autumn, she wandered the fading woods. She was the last of her house, a relic of a faded age, like these trees.
Her servants flitted about, gathering goblin fruit. They filled panniers with spice-apples and honey-berries, cultivars that had been piled in silver dishes in her father’s house. She reached up and plucked one from a branch.
She took a bite and grimaced. It was over-ripe and cloying, with a hint of rot already forming. It was full of the memories of a tyrannical empire fallen.
The last princess returned to the hut she’d traded for the world, resolute.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow us on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!