Princess Thief [✔]

Side Story: Erodessa

I HATE THIS

timeline: during the main story

Trigger Warning: This chapter may contain scenes including violence, or emotional distress. If you are uncomfortable with the following, please skip this chapter.

Tormenting echoes filled my ears while bones, so pallid and cold, reached out to me. Their sharp joints clawed to my skin, scraping every inch of flesh, as they muttered incoherent words.

My hair was yanked behind, making my scalp burn from pain. All my limbs had been outstretched from their sheer force. Water blurred my eyes as I shouted my plea but no one could hear me.

No one ever did.

Everyone in this place was dead. Maybe I am too?

But the pain was real every time. How I wished it was a dream. But, it wasn't. It was not a reality either.

It was a curse.

"Ah!" I yelped when I felt my elbow twisting.

I clenched the insides of my cheek and almost bit my tongue to death from the torture. I hate this. No, I abhor this. I could do nothing but scream when my arm snapped and broke, leaving me with a bloodied figure.

One by one, my limbs separated like a jigsaw puzzle disassembled after completing it. After all, there was a twisted joy in breaking things after making them whole.

I could not remember how many times I was put under this torment, yet again, I could never get used to the agony. I should be numbed but my consciousness never let me faint.

It was as if I had to experience everything with full senses. Every throb should be felt. Every drop of blood should be heard. Every wound should be seen until I could taste the palpability of anguish in the air and hear all the screams I let out.

My breath hitched, voice growing hoarser. Finally, I welcomed death.

***

I sat upright, a glass of water handed to me. My eyes shifted to the holder - Asher, my husband.

Only the moon illuminated our chambers but those deep blue eyes glinted with concern. It was far from my pale frigid irises that never showed warmth.

The exact shade of pupils that I inherited from our ancestor who was the reason for the curse that plagued me. A curse that only me and my father suffered. A curse where we experienced death every single night.

Even when I avoided sleeping, the curse could never be evaded. I didn't believe in god, once upon a time, but being born as a descendant of a god, I have no choice but to do otherwise.

"Have you calmed down?" he spoke in a tone, so low, that it came out barely like a whisper.

I simply took the water, moistening my parched throat. I put the glass on the bedside table, lied on my side of the bed, and let fatigue take over me.

The bed dipped on the other side, his warmth spreading on my back.

I hate this.

I could never understand why he insisted that we share the same bedroom like a regular couple when we were both aware this was a political marriage.

No matter how many porcelains I broke or how many tantrums I showed, my whims were never taken seriously in this manor. Contrary to what I expected, that only made him more affectionate to me. It was as if he understood me.

As if he knows everything.

But that could not be. Only Mother and Lian why I had this side of me. A side I loathed, proving that I should not be alive. Out of all of my siblings, Mother said I was the only one who inherited the awful curse that was passed down to the family of Ezriel.

I was the true anomaly. Not my siblings who inherited the blessings of the goddess. A goddess that the fallen god, who made me like this, despised.

But, I needed someone to blame to keep my peace of mind. In which, my eldest brother and youngest sister are the perfect scapegoats. Father despised them and the inner demon lurking inside of me shook with unknown anger every time I was in their presence.

I thought I would escape all of this when I got married but my marriage had always been in the hands of my father.

I had no choice but to agree when he let me marry to a kingdom where the race that triggers my nightmare lived. I only hoped that Father succeeded in making Asher the king because if he did not, I would not know how I would handle facing all those people with repulsive violet irises.

A hand sneaked onto my waist, waking me from my reverie. I held my breath and listened. There was only a soft snore beside me. I slowly turned and faced Asher.

He was the first prince and should be the crown prince but unlike his siblings, he was the only one in his family not blessed by the goddess, an important factor for a kingdom that revered the goddess. In some ways, maybe we were alike.

We both lead lives of expectations but there were things preventing us to achieve them. I acted as the most proper princess but I was always infamous for my attitude. How could I act so benevolent when the temptations of insanity were murmuring to me like an unseen ghost?

But then again, perhaps not? Aside from the fact that he was not an Amica, Asher's reputation was impeccable. He carried himself confidently like the regal royal that he was whenever he was outside, making me wonder how he could act so patiently towards me when most nobles I met were stern and arrogant. None of them could stand my attitude and shifting moods. Even Lian could get tired of all my antics despite knowing the cause.

Asher may have had a little clue but I didn't want to tell him the whole story. I hated being vulnerable, more so in front of him when he already knew this much. He had already witnessed the worst of me but to be honest, perhaps there was more. Something more that none of us could handle. There was always an unconscious thirst for enmity and conflict nagging at the back of my mind — a hidden darkness I tried so hard to conceal because the moment I unleashed it, the few people that I held dearly in my palm may disappear because of my own actions.

I lifted my hand, landing on his jaw which was rough with stubbles. My fingers traced his lips. It was still as soft as I recalled from our first night together. His upper lips peaks were a perfect cupid's bow with a color of a deep apricot that appeared darker during this time.

My forefinger hiked up to his straight nose up to the curved lashes that were almost as thick as his eyebrows. He was handsome in the most standard way that even without magic, he was still an eligible bachelor that countless women wanted to marry.

Suddenly, a hand clasped my wrist. I quickly pulled back but he held on tightly. He did not open his eyes and easily tugged me to his side, enveloping me in his comforting embrace.

I squirmed and wiggled out but his response was drawing me closer until our bodies our stuck with no inches in between.

"Let's sleep," he mumbled.

My body stilled as the plumpness of his lips touched my forehead and was accompanied by gentle caresses on my hair.

How I hate this.

***