Formerly known as Lucifer's Sanity.
Dark imagine with the essence of hate, fluff, chaos, betrayal and love.
Have you ever thought of the consequence of a playful wish?
"Dad, I want a Beast for myself!" 4-year-old Raya gushed like a puddle to her dad...
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After her break down I carried her into my arms and let her cry all her pent-up frustration. Looking at her crushing herself in the pain I caused her, I replayed the scenes where I treated her like a doormat. Play the you-are-my-queen card one moment and the very second I stomp on her with humiliation.
The exhaustion of her breakdown made her fall asleep in my arms and I cradled her limp body to my heart's desire. Her closeness had always been an exotic feeling of tingling emotions I can't pinpoint. They pull me into an overwhelming ride of hazed desires and cherished love loops.
I teleported us to my manor in Gracein Highlands. The 100-acre lands were my parent's favourite to sneak out from the royal bearings.
This was a place where they didn't cloak themselves for the spectators. This was a place where they exerted their free will without a thousand pairs of eyes judging their love for each other.
The royals detested the adoration between a couple. It was a mere charade of the boastful happiness they showcase to the world but deep inside venomous jealousy coars through their veins.
But their love was magical.
It was in the gardens of Rose Valley when my parents first met. Knowing my Mom was a Gracein, my dad renovated the manor in the highlands and covered the lands of Rose Valley as a token of love he held for his wife. And it was his will to be buried in the same place he met the love of his life.
The aristocratically fortified manor was a restrictive yet relaxed home space for my family. The high walls and crenellated parapets and the surrounding river valleys protected us from the invading eyes of my grandma who despised my mother. The backwaters held so many tales of our family moments but they were rushed away along the breeze.
This private space of land was my father's present to my Mom and nobody has ever entered from the royals except for Raya.
I pressed the image of the corridors of the Sovereign Wing in my head before I walked onto the red carpet of the Sovereign Wing. Minking Grey to keep an eye on my grandma and Camila, I walked us through the palace corridors towards the Imperial suite of the sovereign wing. Raya was out in the cold and was clinging onto me for dear life.
Rough shivers raked my spine as she snuggled, moaned and squeezed herself in my arms. The sovereign wing was the private wing of the King alone, but my dad never paid heed to the mundane rules of the regals and made it my Mom's private space. The sovereign wing was my mom's haven and I was inclined to follow her impersonated scent and dwell on it for serenity.
The door flung open noise-proof and reclined safely on the walls. My cautious slow steps spared me the time to wander my haze over the portraits of my parents and myself hung on the baby blue paint striking the walls with a touch of intimate decors of my mom's self designs.
She exploited her painting skills in this manner. Every crook of the manor had been touched by her delicate designs and covered in her passionate art. Her art spoke for her. They spoke about her.
