The kingdom would rejoice.

The kingdom should rejoice.

The kingdom won't rejoice.

Why would the kingdom rejoice?

Two girls, not a boy. But two girls.

One would be sacrificed, for she was supposed to be a gift.

The other will suffer.

A boy will be needed, after all.

"And? How is the baby?" The king questions a man in a black coat. The approaching man adjusts his glasses and tightens the grip on his bag.

"The child has been lost. Your daughter should stop trying for a while, give her body some time to heal." The doctor informs, patting his brow with a cloth. The king's brows furrowed, and he keeps his head held high.

"Thank you for your service doctor, but I'm trying to do what's best for this kingdom." The king dismisses. The doctor bows and leaves before he incites any anger from his king.

The king had always been known to be cold and uncaring, one of the traits the kingdom hoped their next ruler would lack. It was saddening, the mistreatment of the kingdom's wives, princess and queen.

The king rises from his throne and makes his way to his daughter's room. His sweat ridden, blubbering daughter lies in the bed, her husband across the room, groveling. He approaches the woman and touches her cheek, brushing away a tear.

"F-forgive me father. We've been trying for months." The woman exhales in a shaky breath. The kings glare doesn't shake, his hand rises. "N-no father please!"

A loud slap fills the room, pain swells in her cheek and a cry leaves her lips. The woman whimpers and backs away from his hand, uttering apologies.

"You're a pathetic excuse of a woman and a child. You have failed me and god time and time again." The king reprimands, the woman continuing to cry. "This is what you will do now."

"A-anything, father."

"There is an eldrich being, he lives out in the deepest part of the woods. You will find him and ask— no. Beg if you have to for him to give you a child. Once you have been blessed, you return here and tell us his demands. I don't care what it takes: I will have an heir."

The king leaves the couple alone, her husband coming to her side, examining her face. He kisses her, almost sweetly, but her sobs made her feel as though she was suffocating. She couldn't breathe, her nose clogged and his lips pressed hard against hers.

"You will bare my child. And when that day comes, you'll be nothing more than a shriveled up whore." Her husband growls. "I'll prepare you a horse."

The woman cries. She was already in pain, it was her second miscarriage in 6 months. She couldn't handle it anymore. However, she also couldn't fail her father. If she had to live another day, or die knowing she failed her father, failed at her only duty, she'd be nothing more than a despair fueled spirit.

Despite her blinding pain, she rises from her bed, blood still dripping from between her legs, her stomach cramping and her back aching. Her legs trembled and she began to wash herself up. The wet floor made it difficult to stand, the pain was hot and searing, almost blinding as her vision blurred.

It was never just a physical pain though. She had convinced herself that life would be better when she had a child. So every loss hurt more, knowing she'll never have that taste of happiness and fulfillment. She'll never please her husband, never satisfy her father, never satisfy herself.

The woman dries herself and goes to her closet. She dresses lightly in her riding clothes, putting a pad in her clothes to stop the blood still spilling from her thighs. Her heart throbs and she makes her way to the horses.

She knew just as well as her husband that she needed to be gone today. If her father saw her still here, he'd probably kill her himself. She had already failed him and she didn't intend to do it again.

"Safe travels, my dear. You are still my wife and I expect your safe return." Her husband states, his voice firm, almost uncaring, just possessive. The woman could only nod. He pats the horse and watches her ride off.

It was a long ride. One day, two nights. The woman had to force the horse further and further into the woods. Her dress was dirtied and had constantly snagged on branches and brush.

She was exhausted when she came into a clearing with a small stream. The woman slips off her horse, but falls onto her knees. The horse drinks water from the stream as the woman grips her stomach in pain.

A whimper left her before her horse nudged her gently, huffing when she refused to move. Her vision blurs as her head starts to spin. Her head slowly moves up as she sees a shiny pair of shoes in front of her.

In front of her stood a tall figure, knelt down to investigate her pain-curled body. She could feel it's skin against her chin, her vision slowly clearing as a staticky sound grew louder in her head.

"Why are you here?" A voice rips through her mind, causing a new pain within her body.

"M-my name is (Y/n) (L/n). I am the only child of king (L/n) and he wants a male heir. I have had 4 miscarriages this year. I beg of you to give me a child that I can carry to term who will be my father's heir. I can only offer you my body and my life, I beg that you will accept this, for I have nothing else to give." She bows her head once more, unable to hold her own head much longer. "P-please..."

Her chin is lifted higher, stretching out her neck. She swallows what saliva was in her dry mouth and carefully examined the creature. He was certainly tall, if he stood straight, he'd probably come face to face with a low bird nest. His face was like paper: pale, blank and white. He wore formal wear, his suit looked like any wealthy man's, just a shiny black.

Exhaustion hit her in a wave and her eyes closed and her body trembled. The pain she felt was overwhelming and then the sudden wave of fear on top of it. However, it wasn't him she feared.

If he didn't accept, she'd return to two men who would fly into a fit of rage at her failure. She would be beaten to an inch of her life before her husband would try once more to impregnate her. Her father may watch again as she'd writhe in agony and blood mixed with skin and her tears mixed with sweat. If he rejected her now... well she wouldn't return home.

"I will accept your offering, but listen well." She nods, almost desperate as she tries to open her eyes once more. "You shall remain with me throughout the pregnancy, you will do as I say without question. Understood?"

(Y/n) nods as relief fills her body. A breeze takes her consciousness away and when her eyes open once more, she's back within the throne room. There sat her father, the throne beside him empty as she could only assume her mother still ill, tucked away within heavy sheets.

Her husband stared up in horror at the creature beside her. His hand rested on his blade as he stood alert, gaze flickering toward her, like he wanted to steal her away from the thing. She felt a hand rest upon her shoulder and her husband twitched.

"We meet again, Slenderman." Her father's voice travels through the room. The creatures grip tightens slightly, but moves away.

"Hello Sebastian. It seems you're in need of my assistance once more." The creature says, his voice louder than before, perhaps the voice was out loud or still within her mind, either way she was still in pain.

"I trust my daughter has told you of my ail." Her father answers, eyes pinning to her like daggers as she bleeds with guilt, despite having done her job correctly. The creature nods.

"She is pregnant with a child. Throughout her pregnancy, she will remain with me, in order to assure the child is not lost. In 9 months, she will be returned to you for the birth of your heir." The creature informs, his hand returning to the woman's shoulder once more.

"And what is your cost?" The king inquires, walking toward the creature and his daughter.

"One life for another." The Slenderman states. The king nods.

"Very well, and whose life shall it be? A farmer? A man of mine who infiltrated your land?" The king ponders aloud.

"Your daughter."

"No! That is my wife." Her husband roars in a rage. She fights a smile as she stares blankly at her father, awaiting a similar reaction. However, her father only scratches his chin, his beard well old and losing hair with each scratch.

"Very well then. Old blood for new blood. I accept your terms." The king answers, bowing his head, watching as his daughter's falls in sorrow.

"Well I don't." Her husband growls, unsheathing his blade and running toward the creature. Before he could even swing his blade, he is impaled by two sharp, slick, tentacles of black.

The woman let's out a cry of shock and terror, the grip on her shoulder tightening as she covers her mouth. Blood crawls down the dark limbs and drips into an ever growing puddle of red. A sickening ripping sound was heard as her former husband was pulled into two pieces, guts and blood littering the ground.

The king does nothing but scowl, his gaze shifting from his daughters terrorized form to his son-in-law's mutilated body. Her bodies trembles in horror, vomit gathering at her throat and her vision blurring all at the troubling sight.

"This is why you don't wed your daughter to an enemy." The king sighs. "He was pathetic, really."

"9 months. You will have your heir." The creature states once more. "Gather her things, we'll be leaving shortly."

(Y/n) finds herself seated upon her mother's throne one last time as servants rush down the hall to her quarters. She finds her breathing labored as she tries to keep her body up despite her blurring vision. She sees her father grin and she glances over to see why.

Instead, her body tenses up in fear and a new kind of terror filled her body. The creatures mouth ripped open and lifted up one of the halves of her husband's body. She squints her eyes shut and leans into her father with a sob as she hears a sickening crunch.

She listens to his bites, the disgusting squelch of raw skin getting bit into making her want to vomit. She listens to another loud crunch as she feels her father lean in close.

"This is why you don't try to sell yourself. You'll never escape your torment." The king whispers, sending a shiver through her body once more.

When she opened her eyes again, her husband was nothing more than a puddle of blood, a memory that will be mopped away. Two servants returned with a box of her things. It clearly wasn't a lot, as all her things couldn't possibly fit in a single chest, but she was certain it was just enough.

Enough to last 9 months.

Enough to last her last days alive.