𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞~short stories~

Dalya {revised}

Prequel short story part 1: Dalya

Keep quiet, look pretty.

That is what you are for.

An ornament.

The prettiest ornament.

"Dalya, don't space out so much. Smile and stay focused so you can answer questions politely."

"Mother, you weren't supposed to be here," I snap through my teeth, aware that it did not matter to her at all. Embarrassed as I was to have her there, I could not defy her will.

"Do not take that time with me. Is this how you plan to win a husband? That kind of rude behavior is unattractive." My mother scolded me with the same words every time. It was always about what men found attractive, what they wanted from me. "You are such a natural beauty, do not spoil it by being unpleasant," my mother went on, effectively wounding me.

"Yes mother."

Looking around the room, I spotted nobles who stuck out like sore thumbs among the selected. They had extravagant clothing, and were eccentric in their airs and body language . It also seemed that they were intentionally putting distance between one another, containing themselves to different corners of the great hall.

My curious mind went to tap my mother and point out my observation, but my sensible mind told me she would tell me not to waste my time dwelling on such things. What was important to her was my hair and makeup, thing's that were on the outside of my head. Whatever business the princes and princesses had with one another was not mine to comment. I am to be seen and not heard.

Then he looked at me. The gears in my brain cranking away, I was scanning the room once again and doing a head count of the royals when my eyes found his; Dathan.

Amidst wooing a red haired woman in a floral dress, his eyes lingered on me, as all mortal's did. A sinful thought came to me; I hoped he was wishing he was wooing me instead.

My eyes lingered as well. Struck by his beauty, I decided then that I would marry him. I could have any man and, I chose him.

I would never really have him, not the way that I wanted. It wad my belief that any man my mother deemed worthy of marriage for me would have to be head over heels with me for a lifetime as long as I kept my mouth shut. The value of my beauty was greatly miscalculated on my part. Just when you see a patter in human nature and you think you know people, someone shows you how wrong you are.

"Hello, My dear," his smirking lips said to me. "How do you fair?"

"Quiet well," I replied shortly, and sweetly. Over complicated responses exasperated men.

"Isn't your shadow with you?" His eyes glimmered with humor.

"My mother took her leave," I answered politely. I wanted to belly laugh but settled for an amused grin. A muted, gentle response was always more attractive than an unfiltered and genuine one.

My skin burned with heat as he looked at me. Eyes like sharp needles, he pricked every inch of me and his infatuation showed on his face. This was not unusual. I have often been met with the candid desires of men.

"I'm sure that you are use to hearing men say you are beautiful." His expression was thoughtful, as if he were trying to come up with another way to say it that I have not already heard. He wouldn't.

"Thank you, sir." I curtsy. My submission to him began before we met. It began when my mother conditioned me to see my own body as an object. It began when Dathan's burning desire for control was building up over his lifetime. It began when I was placed in the room not because I was smart or talented or wise, but because I was beautiful.

I was barely his wife. We did not have a ceremony and he did not love me. There were five women he called his wives and it can not be said if he really loved any of us. The favored ones were tortured by their love for him bit I was what I always knew I would be, an ornament.

Before Dathan took power, we were all together like a harem and we bickered daily. As we did, I held this secret thought it my heart that I was the favorite. My beauty was unmatched, after all. However, the day that Dathan killed all his siblings to claim power he declared the act to be for her.

She who was not grateful for his attention, she who was unpleasant and disagreeable.

How dare she.

The rest of us were not loved by him. The rest of us were not legally married to him. Her ungratefulness had the core of me seething with anger.

I held out hope that I was second favorite, but that hope feel away when I gave birth. He didn't trifle with me over names and being there for their birth. The only thing that would please him was a smooth labor and no complications. It went perfectly.

Within hours I had two baby girls that I knew would be beautiful as I was. Tears of happiness racked my body when I found out they were twins. They would have each other and that was the brightest light on my horizon.

It would have been better if I had died in labor, as long as the girls were healthy.

After the children were born I thought he would go back to touching me. He didn't. Not even when I came to him, pathetically begging for some affectionate action. I wore lingerie that covered my stomach for his benefit and begged him to take me, and still his rejection came like the cold bite of winter.

He stopped controlling what I did or where I went. This would have been welcome to me if I did not know it was because he no longer cared for my well being.

This was my invitation to leave and make a new life. My shame was deep. I could not leave my daughters, I had no money, no skills, no man would have used goods. I became worthless.

His other wives were meeting death at his hands and I lived in a death trap with my toddlers as the bait and my worthless body the cage. I wanted out.

When I made the decision to kill myself, I did think about my girls. I knew they were his heirs and he wouldn't kill them. If he killed me I couldn't protect them anyway.

With no purpose left in me, I went to the lake, the lake I went to for peace. I took a boat to the middle of the lake and tied heavily weights to my feet.

The boat rocked back and forth as my weight left it's side. The feeling of the water rising up all around me was as horrible overwhelming force. I was not alive to see the bottom. Either water filled my lungs or the pressure burst my brain before I was a dead weight at the bottom, but there I was. There I stayed.