ততততত

𝐈 𝐌 𝐎 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍

This "celebration" will be the death of me.

These past few days consisted of me lying through the skin of my teeth to Leighton. In fact, I told the king I was menstruating when I'm not predicted to have it for at least another week—not that he'd even know. The lie got him temporarily out of my hair, but it couldn't free me from tonight's festivities. Leighton insists I stay attached to his side for the evening, relaying the message that him and I are to be bound in marriage till death do us part.

First, we attended a feast with every single duke and duchess sitting at the long wooden table. I sat beside Leighton throughout the entire dinner, answering meaningless questions about the wedding when they were presented to me:

Have you set a date for the wedding? Yes, in less than four months.

Will it be at Adorid? No, the ceremony will be at the Lagulon castle in Summervale.

What kind of decor will be there? Leighton's underpants. Well, I didn't actually answer that question, but if anyone dared to interrogate me longer I might've let the humiliating truth about what happened slip out into the open air.

Following the dinner comes what nauseates me the most: the public announcement. It seems everyone in the city of Evertania and beyond received an invitation to hear the news. Surely rumours about the marriage have writhed through the city streets before my arrival, but now they'll be set in stone. Thousands of Adoridians will watch me, scrutinize me, wonder why Leighton chose the princess of a kingdom crumbling to ashes.

Fortunately, Lorcan managed to stay at arm's length throughout the entire night. Even now as I prepare to stand on a pedestal before the Adoridian crowds, he's there.

Leighton speaks with a few guards—Brock, and others I can't identify. At least he's distracted as Lorcan pulls me to the side. He dresses in Lagulonian navy, his armour glistening in the firelight from the sconces. He certainly sticks out amongst the crowd, but at least I know I won't lose sight of him. Besides, Lorcan is an impressive height, and might even be a head taller than the rest of the people.

"I will be monitoring you from the edge of the room," Lorcan tells me. "I can't go up there with you."

"What do you mean, 'you can't?'" I hiss in a whisper. "You're acting as my personal guard and need to be at my side."

"Unfortunately, the personal guard rouse isn't good enough when your future husband is in your company," he grumbles, his hazel eyes drifting over to Leighton and his men. "I'm surprised he allowed me to accompany you for the night thus far."

"Lorcan, you can't leave me alone," I beg, stepping closer to him. "Please. You know my father wouldn't let you."

Lorcan's hazel eyes hold so much pity for me, but that's far from what I need. I need him to stand between Leighton and I as a barricade, to fend him off until I return to the safety of my bedroom in Lagulon.

"We are not in Lagulon," Lorcan mutters. "We are in Adorid, and I am to obey the king of Adorid's orders."

He lifts his gaze as he finishes speaking. Leighton crosses the room towards us, clasping his hands behind his straightened back. I must say, he cleans up well in luxurious forest green robes. Small crystals of emerald decorate the trims of his tunic and belt, as well as his crown. Still, behind all that glamour is a beast I need to slay.

"If you don't mind, my queen and I have a whole kingdom waiting for us," Leighton says as he extends a gloved hand to me.

Lorcan tips his head in acknowledgement, his palm already reaching for the hilt of his sword. He longs to fight back, but even I am unaware of what will happen to Lorcan if he steps out of line in Leighton's castle. There's an evil within these walls that controls Leighton's soul, painting these walls with innocent blood.

Leighton settles his gloved hand on the small of my back, his touch made of ice. I take a step away.

He releases a distasteful tsk. "We haven't talked about your behavior."

"You know damn well I don't want to marry you," I seethe, "so if you're expecting this submissive proper princess at your side, you're in for a real treat."

Leighton looks down, his blue irises a barren arctic wasteland. "Next time, I would choose your words more wisely. Threats like that don't make it far around me."

He reaches for me once more, but I dodge his gesture. He's not supposed to set a hand on me, and yet Lorcan can't do a damn thing about it as an attempt to be politically 'cordial.'

"You really think they'll believe that we're an item?" I breathe. "That this betrothal is done in love rather than for politics?"

"No marriage in this family has ever been done for love. It's a contract, and in that contract, you will be bound to me."

"I can still run from this," I hiss. "I can disappear before the wedding and you'll never be able to find me."

"Then I will kill your father, and then bring your beloved kingdom to ruins," his voice comes out in a gruesome roar, a tone that trembles the earth as if the underworld itself responded to his command. "I suggest you reconsider your behavior around me, princess. May I remind you of the punishment I have prepared?"

I narrow my gaze as he utters the word punishment. I knew that this visit wasn't just a simple announcement. He wants me to pay my dues for the humiliation I caused him.

"You'll do no such thing," I manage to say, my voice quivering as Leighton's stare drifts closer.

"Then let's show the people that you are my wife, that Lagulon and Adorid will be one," he holds a hand out. "Only then will I spare you tonight."

He resets his touch against my back, his fingers rounding towards my hip where he grips until his nails dig into the fabric. It feels like he's branding me, staking his claim on the one girl that will never bow to his reign. When I try to wriggle free, he only tows me in closer, so close that my body cumbers against his.

Tears sting the rims of my eyes, tangling themselves in my long lashes. I am to be his wife until he takes his final breath.

Worst of all, I will be bound to this monster.

I suck in a deep breath that touches the depths of my lungs, holding it in as Leighton and I enter into the sanctum. The large room becomes a blur of Adoridians. Thousands of them remain packed tight, all of them singing in glee and drinking down some of the finest wines and champagnes. The once subdued chatter of the room develops into a raging shrill cheer at the sight of Leighton and I. He guides me up onto the platform by the thrones, taking each step with ease as he raises a hand to the bustling crowd.

The moment his hand raises above his head, the crowd draws silent. An eerie domineering silence.

The people of Adorid reverently dip towards the ground, bowing to the man standing before them. Not one person disobeys the gesture to kneel. Everyone is on their knees.

Everyone but me.

I try to search the edges of the room for Lorcan, but he's not in sight. He either got told to stay out of the room, or excused himself before he would be forced to bow in Leighton's presence. Even Elena chose to stay in my bedroom for the evening rather than partake in the celebration. I don't blame her one bit. It's safer there than it is anywhere else in this kingdom.

"People of Adorid," Leighton begins, his voice a stormy bellow. "Our mighty kingdom has survived the greatest of wars. Every trial set before us, we have surpassed. Though we have experienced grief and anguish in the past, the hardships we face have come to an end."

He urges for me to step ahead of him, as if to showcase his prize to the kingdom. I'm like a gemstone to him, one more valuable than any other. I am here to shine in his presence, to prove to the people that Leighton Federline of Adorid holds an abundance of riches.

To him, I am a possession he can keep in his room to collect dust. I'm a queen he has no intention of honouring. But they don't know that. All they see is beauty.

"The beginning of the new era commences today. After careful consideration, I have decided to take on a partner to wear this sacred crown. A bond will be formed between Adorid and Lagulon, an alliance that will be held in Adorid's favour for generations." Leighton's fingers comb through the blonde waves of hair that fall down my back, toying with each delicate strand. I long to wrap my pretty painted fingers around his neck and snap.

But I can't.

"In four months time," he continues. "I will marry Princess Imogen Adirya Ophelia Mironescu. We are to be husband and wife, your king and queen. Through our marriage, we will build our kingdom to be stronger through our children, for it is their birthright to take the throne once I have passed."

Leighton's words drown out into a mumbling nothingness. Not another syllable can I comprehend. All I see is them. Thousands of citizens kneeling before Leighton as if he were a god. Thousands of people chained to his rule. Yet, they remain loyal to their king and kingdom.

To them, the darkness and the light are the same. They can't differentiate.

A tug to my hand brings my mind back to the sanctions of the room. Leighton pulls at me, his icy eyes sharper than two daggers, silently ordering for me to take a seat on the throne beside his own.

Together, Leighton and I sit before them—their king and future queen.

One by one, the crowd comes to give us their blessings. They pay homage to us as if we were idols to be worshiped, or gods sent to pardon them from their sins. They bow before Leighton, already showering him with gifts as if we had just gotten married. When they finish greeting their king, they descend back into the masses to dance and drink the night away.

This castle flows with a strange glee, and I feel like I'm the only one drowning in suffering.

A servant boy approaches the throne with two goblets of wine. "Drinks, your highness?"

I wave him off. "No, thank you."

"Take one," Leighton leans back in his seat as he takes the drink from the boy's golden platter. "You're stiff. You need to loosen up a bit."

I swallow. Lorcan warned me not to drink anything, just in case Leighton decided to pull some strings, but the people of Adorid need to know their new beloved queen is forged from a scorching fire. I'm a battle that will continue to be fought against their bullheaded, dark hearted, selfishly greedy king.

I take the drink from the platter, cradling it betwixt my fingertips. Leighton expects me to take a sip, as if I too am amused with the whole idea of our marriage. He longs to have me drunk, to do hell knows what.

Instead, I throw the cup into his chest, the dark grape wine staining into his shadowed green robes. The golden goblet clammers to the ground, silencing the entire sanctum.

"No," I say, this time a little louder. "I don't need the drink."

Our gazes meet—mine of illuminating moonlight and his frozen tundra. He knows I'm defying him for a reason, but what point is there to prove? With one flick of his wrist, he waves the crowds to stand back. Oh gods. Somehow, I've pushed his tolerance over a cliff.

But I am not going to be his wife.

Leighton rises to his feet. He reaches for my hand, then hoists me up. A drop of splashed wine falls down his cheek. "A word, my beloved," he grits near the shell of my ear.

Before I can retaliate, he hauls me out of the sanctum. I dig my heels into the ground, attempting to fend him off, but he's physically stronger than I will ever be.

Fear strikes me like an arrow. He's taking me somewhere private.

I search for any sign of Lorcan. Where is he? He said he'd be in the throne room watching over me, observing me, but he's nowhere to be found.

Leighton forces me down another darker corridor. "Lorcan?" I squeak.

"He's not here," Leighton tightens his grip on my arms, his nails leaving marks on the barren skin. "I've taken care of him."

My heart stops. "What did you do to him?"

"You don't need a watchdog, princess," Leighton tells me. "So I made sure he made it back to his room."

Leighton swings open a pair of thick wooden doors. Immediately, I'm met with the hazy glow of the moon and the cold breeze of the damned souls. Wherever we are, I feel close to the dead, as if this place were a portal to another realm. It's a small outdoor courtyard, claustrophobic and fenced in so that the only exit is through the doors we entered. No grass grows on the ground. Nothing exists in this place but an iron stake and a rack of bloodied weapons.

Leighton closes the doors behind me, blocking me from any chance of escape. There's something about this courtyard that feels off. I twinge as the scent of blood overwhelms me, that grotesque metallic yet organic smell.

The shadows reflect off Leighton's facial features, his icy eyes darkening with wrath. "I have been patient with you, princess," he seethes, "but with every reminder you only failed to listen."

"What is this place?" I croak, not even comprehending his words.

"It's the place where those who wrong me are made right again," he mutters. "Redemption can easily be given, for a price. Every person that enters into this space has a sin they want to remove from their ledger, including you."

He takes a step forward, and I parry backwards. The mud beneath me stains the bottom of my navy dress—not that I care. I just need to get away, to find a way around Leighton's boulderish physique and back into the maze of castle hallways. But how can I?

My back hits the stone walls behind me, and Leighton steps into my proximity. I need my bow and arrow. I need the Mironescu courage I know that flows in my blood.

Yet, there's nothing but hopelessness inside of me, and no matter how hard I try to find something else, there's nothing.

"Please don't do this," a sob breaks from me as Leighton forces a hand against my waist.

"I haven't done a thing yet," he mutters, his breath fanning my cheek. "Shall I remind you of your sins?"

"Only if I can say yours."

He clenches his fingers into the fabric of my dress. "Let's start at the beginning. You were so well behaved at that dinner with your father, but you let that charade go. You stole my clothes while I was bathing, then pinned my underpants in the throne room. You spit in my face as if I were scum, and then you dare throw your wine at me. I've had enough."

"You're forcing me to marry you, or else you'll kill my entire kingdom," I scoff. "How is this a place of redemption when you're the sin that needs to be cleansed?"

He pulls a knife from beneath his clothes, holding it to my upper thigh. I reach for his wrist, to pull the blade away. Instead, he uses his other arm to pin me up against the frigid stone wall. Gods, he's going to cut me.

"I don't want to hurt my wife, but you have to understand that this will not be tolerated in my castle," he mutters. The sharp blade glistens as he trims the navy fabric away from my thigh. There, he sees unblemished porcelain skin. "This scar will be a reminder to never transgress me again. I am your king, and you are in my empire. Do you understand?"

"You're a bastard," I seethe.

The edge of the blade scratches my skin, dancing carelessly as if I were a glass artifact.

Until he presses the edge deeper. It breaks the surface of my skin, slicing a clean cut in a long swift line. I bite my cheeks as pain engulfs me as he withdraws, then releases me from his grasp. I cripple to the ground, holding my thigh as an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"This is mercy," Leighton warns. "I have destroyed bodies so that their blood spills into the soil. I have brought people to the borders of life and death. Take this cut, this keepsake, that you will never disobey me again."

My heart beats a thousand miles per minute. I fought back with all the cunning and clever ideas that would drive him crazy, and yet, it will never be enough. Once I am married to him, he'll drag me to this yard and spill my blood with every mistake. To him, I'll forfeit my control and thought.

And fighting back with him will be hopeless.

It's all hopeless.

Hopeless.

Hopeless.

Hopeless.

"King Leighton?" a small voice breaks the silence. "You're being requested in the sanctum."

My tear swollen eyes meet the light coming from the large wooden doors. A girl stands between them, her chestnut hair a mess of long curls. Although her clothes are tattered and physique thin, there's a fierceness in her posture.

Strangely, Leighton obeys her, and judging by the way he spins to meet her gaze, he favours her. It's as if this one servant can speak to him without fearing punishment, without facing brutality. Yet, she's young. Younger than I, hardly breaking the barriers of adulthood.

Leighton makes his way towards her, then takes her chin in the pads of his fingertips. "You will escort her back to her bedroom."

She nods her head. "Yes, sir."

Leighton leans in and kisses the girl on the cheek, the touch of his lips soft and tender, two words I would never suspect the King of Adorid to possess. "I will be expecting you tonight."

Again, the girl nods her head in understanding before he disappears through the double doors.

At once, the fear of Leighton vanishes, leaving an empty void of hopeless nothing in my heart. Even when I gaze upon the young girl crossing the desolate yard, the spark of light she holds inside of her fails to ignite in me. What use is there to fight if we're just destined to lose? All we can do is cling to what we have to survive, else we'll have nothing.

Nothing.

The girl approaches me as if I were a frightened deer. Maybe I am. I gaze up at her, eyes widened. In a matter of seconds, I have become an empty shell of a princess.

I just want home. My father's embrace. My bow and arrow. A thief's mischief.

She kneels beside me, setting her dainty hands on the torn edges of my gown. "It's shallow, but I should still get you to your room so Elena can clean you up."

"Elena..." I mutter. "You know her?"

"When Lorcan was sent back to his bedroom, he went into yours to meet with Elena since the two rooms are joined together. They trusted me to find you and Leighton," she lifts her sight, and I'm met with a pair of golden eyes. "She can fix you, right?"

Kind golden eyes.

In a way, they remind me of Tobin's. It's how I knew he was no threat, and his eyes are the reason I trusted him so blindly in the beginning. This girl holds that same aura—an aura I desperately need at this dark hour.

She helps me stand again, although now my leg and cut are exposed for all to see. When I walk back to my bedroom, they'll all know it came from Leighton's knife. I disobeyed his orders and humiliated him within his domain. To them, I deserved more than just a cut.

The girl slings an arm over my shoulders to stabilize me, and a sharp sting emanates from the cut. It may be shallow, but it hurts like bloody hell.

"Count yourself lucky," the girl mutters. "He's done worse." Our eyes meet, and we stop for just a second. "I would know."

I hold my tongue. I know better than to pry and ask questions, but there's something about her that's undeniably different than any other maidservant in this castle. Her presence always seems to be noted—not just by myself or Leighton, but every guard we pass seems to watch her like hawks stalking prey.

The knights guarding my bedroom chamber part ways as the girl and I enter inside. Elena and Lorcan lounge on sofas by the hearth, both of their heads swinging towards the door as it opens.

Elena spills a bottle of wine and springs to the doorway. Her eyes lock on the open bloody cut. "Gods, Imogen!"

Her embrace welcomes me, and it's then all those numbing emotions awaken. I sob into her clothes, clinging to them with white knuckles, because it's over. I thought I could fight him, but he'll just send me back to that forsaken courtyard. He'll tie me to the stake and punish me in every way, shape, and form. There's no saving him. There's only saving myself and the people I govern.

Through the fury of tears that fall from my moonlit eyes, Lorcan pries me away from Elena and carries me to my bed. Elena's footsteps patter behind him, joined by the young girl.

"Did Leighton do this?" Elena questions as she investigates the cut.

The cut.

My punishment.

A tragic cycle of my demise.

Elena's forest green eyes cloud over my vision as she combs back a strand of blonde hair, such a tender motherly touch. Then, she switches her attention back to the bleeding wound on my thigh.

"We're gonna need disinfectant," Elena mutters under her breath, "and bandages. Plenty of bandages."

Lorcan looks over to the young girl. "Can you bring those back to us?"

The young girl with the kind golden eyes nods her head, then prepares to leave the room. There's something enticing about her. She's a mystery, a conundrum that I can't seem to solve. What exactly is it that makes her so different from the rest of the castle servants?

Before she can reopen the door, Lorcan's low voice cuts her off.

"Aspen?"

Aspen. The name seems so fitting for her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answers you seek," Lorcan mutters.

Her shoulders deflate. She came here for answers to god knows what, and instead was sent to find me and bring me back. The last I hear of her is the door closing shut behind her, before my thoughts spiral into a forlorn chaos.

── •✧• ──

This chapter is a long one! It had its challenges—believe me, I still think it could be improved. But, this is only my first draft and will certainly revise it in the future!

Unfortunately for Imogen, she's left in a dark place about her future. But fear not! She's on her way back to Lagulon very soon, and we all know who will be waiting for her. (It's Tobin, btw, in case you haven't been paying attention). 

Make sure to vote, comment & share! Every little bit comes as encouragement to me, and it helps me to continue writing future chapters!