Debating whether to walk into the King's study was better than actually entering.
Should i knock or just run away from the house altogether. Why do i feel the latter is a better option.
A nagging voice in my head, apparently called my concscience was preventing me from absconding.
"Only fear, fear itself. Have the courage to face your problems."
Oh bloody conscience. Would you just be quiet for a minute. I'm trying to think of my escape route.
"Escape is for the cowardly. Are you a coward."
Has a conscience ever taunted your mind? Well mine certainly wasn't planning to leave me alone to my thoughts.
"When in doubt, gamble on and and find out, the treasures of a new dawn."
Dear conscience please leave. You are great and all but quoting non existing poems will not help me. It just makes me even more anxious than before.
"The mind is yours to control. A little advice will do you some good. Listen to it sometimes."
Ugh...Okay thanks. Enjoy your rest. And next time help me out when i actually NEED your help.
I mustered up the courage to walk into the King's study . I rapped on the door waiting for permission to enter but i heard no sound.
So i placed my ear against the door in an attempt to listen in but nearly stumbled and fell when the door swung inwards.
I let out a stream of curses which was competely unladylike. But when you are about to plummet head first into a carpeted floor, it is a war against gravity. And we all know that everything is fair in love and war. So excuse me if i'm not a lady when i am trying to avoid a concussion.
Stablising myself on my feet i looked around and saw that the well lit study was empty. I walked up to the redwood desk, which stood out in the pale cream walled room and looked all around, i couldn't spot the King anywhere.
I saw a flicker of movement through the corner of my eye and turned, but just faced a painting. Seeing it for the first time it intriguied me and i went ahead to have a closer look.
The painting was of a beautiful woman dressed in lavish black robes. Her golden hair tumbled down her back in thick curls which framed her heart shaped face very well. She was standing near a man dressed in white robes and royal emblems. They both held hands and and she looked at him with adoring eyes. He was facing her and his hand moved to caress her cheek.
That man really looks like King Arachneal. Wait..! What...! The hand moved. How in the world did that happen?
Not believing it, i rubbed my eyes and peered at it again. I concluded two things. Firstly it was in the view of the artist or how the artist percieved it. Again the figures repeated the action and turned towards the artist, beaming. Secondly, it seemed to capture a moment in time and potrayed the artists memory of that moment.
Okay weird. I've been here like a million times and i have never seen that before. Fine i was exaggerating i've entered the study, an astounding total of five times in the last five years. And it was always because i ran away and i received a lecture on punctuality.
Now intriguied i walked forward to inspect all the potraits and tapestries. They depicted joyous moments of the past like his coronation, his coming of age, his parents and him as a child, his birth.
Unaware that my feet had picked up their pace i kept walking around the room and suddenly hit something hard. A mind numbing pain shot up through my body starting at my toe.
Who thought of putting this coloumn in the corner of the room. And who decided that i shouldn't wear shoes?
"Umm...you did. You kicked them off when you entered the house."
Shut up and go back to sleep. I don't need your help. Bloody hell, the world hates me today.
YOU ARE READING
(On Hold)In The Raven's Shadow(May Be Rewritten)Romance
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