Book #3 in the Fairytale series
A minister.
A princess.
A curious case of their pasts - that intermingle.
A ruthless tale.
A killing romance.
& the two have none to blame.
A story of painful rapture.
Dreams to chase,
& promises to keep.
Mat...
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Dark gullies of streaming water behind the thin watery bricks, dripped from the edge of the low hanging roof. It's tapping sounds like a warning in the misty darkness of the place. Thin vapor of water and dust materialized into a thicker layer preventing the tiny holes in the walls from letting any sunlight in. At least the part that was not covered up by the vines that entwined in the world outside, the tiny hut in plain sight but hidden from the views of the weak sights. A decaying, rotten smell filled the place, insects and rodents alike feasted on it, growing in plenty.
In the darkness, that heaved over her as the snow continued to pile up outside, she felt her heartbeat raise. Tied with rough tweed rope, next to an iron table that pierced into her stomach every now and then as she tried to inch away. Her feet were tied too, underneath her heavy ivory skirts the gold embroidery beginning to itch against her skin at her navel. The fitted blouse, that ended four inches below her ribs, snagged into the soft skin there, the heavy veil and jewelry biting into her peace. Frustrated, Filza rubbed her hands against the tight knots of the rope. Her lipstick marked it, rubbing off of its place as she used her teeth — struggling yet not resting for a single moment.
Every inch of her skin, and the bones underneath ached. Agony, pure agony surrounded her veins as she tried to make sense of where she was. Her mind was still muddleheaded, the chloroform's affects only just beginning to wear out. A pounding inside her head kept her from thinking clearly, groans of pain escaped her dried mouth. She shivered, cuddling into her own self as the thin walls, perforated at calculated distances allowed the chilly winds to blow in. They rustled against her being, and creatures—all kinds of them infiltrated her mind and vision alike.
Her whimpers were for the desolate furniture to hear. The mice ticked away at the food that had been thrown against the wall, roaches peered out, raising their tiny heads out of the wood-boards, stunned to see a sobbing frame amongst them. They were too equally at shock, frozen in place and only the large moths dared to fly past her. Filza's sobs turned louder by the second as she struggled to flee. Her breaths turned harsh, her lips turning pale as the cold kept nipping at her skin. It was her wedding day — she was supposed to be married already yet here she was, without any idea of how and where she had been brought.
Filza let out a sharp cry of horror, bony faces with wide eyes, set on their slender cheeks with slim lips neared her. They had long talon like nails, dragged across her skin. She felt herself reduced into an inch of her life, as they dangled over her skins and whispered a language that she could not understand. She begged and sobbed for mercy, her hands above her head as she sought help from the brick wall behind her. The longer her eyes strained open to keep the visions in sight, the more she feared the consequences. Filza was taken back to her childhood, when she was plagued with similar thoughts. The nightmares had stopped for the most part, her father took it upon himself to slay the creatures whilst she slept. She wanted him, to soothe her ; to give her reassurance all would be alright.
