Mistress

𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

Arik grunted, stepping in front of me and placing his hands on my shoulders in an attempt to halt me, panting from our walk around the castle to the front door.

"I..I.." He wheezed, trying to catch his breath as I stared at the thin boy hopelessly. For someone so skinny, he ran out of breath in an instant.

"I think.. you just need to give Queen Viva a chance, she's witty and funny.. and so much more. Ender, It's only fair."

"Arik. Everybody in this castle isn't concerned about me, they're concerned about their connections and what will make us as a front look the best. She looks the best on paper, our 'marriage' is transactional. You're starting to sound like everyone else Arik." I stated, pushing the huge wooden double doors of my castle open. The harsh rainfall pouring upon the outside of my Kingdom. Families rushed home as the dark sky consumed the land. Arik stumbled over his words, searching for something to say.

"Is that all Sir Arik?" I asked delicately as Arik stood back, "Yes, King Ender." 

"Thank you. I must go now, I'll be back before dawn." I gave Arik an enchanted smirk before pulling my hood over my head, and making my way into the crowd quickly, Arik stood back distraught with my decisions.

As I tread through the busy streets, making my way into the depths of my Kingdom, where poverty is the most often stricken. I bought as much food as I could for as many families as I could, answering questions and taking notes of what my people need. Most of them had been born into poverty, no matter how hard they tried to escape they simply never could. It was heartwrenching to hear their stories. To know that I could've tried harder, and done something to save my people from their never-ending pain. 

"King Ender, did you know of Symphony Henthorn's death?" I tilted my head, clasping hands with a small fragile woman as her deep emerald eyes caught my attention.

"No madam, who was Symphony?" 

"S-She was a harlot.. her and her family-" The sound of the small women's voice faded as my eyes were drawn to a huge crowd. 

"I'm so sorry, ma'am what's happening over there?" I asked as the women's eyes flashed over to the crowd and then back to my own, holding eye contact.

"That's Symphony's funeral.. her daughter, she's now an orphan."

| DRUCILLA R. HENTHORN |

These are the heart-filling, lust-aching, tear-wrenching words my mother used to robustly on repeat. But what does one do when they live in a kingdom in which, no matter what they do they are the daughter of a whore? Well. If you can't beat them join em. 

That's what my mother thought until it got her killed. She wasn't that great of a woman anyhow, but for fucks sake, so many men have fled her funeral, begging for sex. Apparently, I'm the spitting image of my mother. And don't even get me started on how these foul creatures that called themselves men undressed me with their eyes.

 You know, maybe this would phase me if I didn't take mothers words to heart. Every robust claim she made about me, telling me that I couldn't be sexual. That I couldn't do anything well, that I couldn't help her. Often, I questioned if she ever loved me. She'd leave me alone in my brain, letting man after man flood our home. Cry after cry, scream after scream she'd continue. No matter how bruised or sad it made her.