Beatrice determinedly walked down the staircase toward the cell that had once held her captive.
A shiver rattled her spine as she shook at the morbid reminder. She reached out and rested her hand against the brick walls, gliding against it as she went deeper and deeper under the castle.
When she finally reached the last step, she took a moment to collect her thoughts and breathing. You are here for one reason, she reminded herself, you are here to speak your mind. To move on.
With an assured inhale, Beatrice stepped down and walked forward into the space in front of the cell. She stared at Marcus, who was alerted of her presence. His head was pressed against the ragged brick walls behind him as he sat on the familiar, uncomfortable bench. She glanced down and noticed he was chained at his ankles and wrists, which made her increasingly comfortable.
Marcus clenched his fists, but kept his composure. "Come to clean, servant?"
Inadvertently, she smiled. "I came to speak with you."
He cocked a brow, unamused. "What makes you think I have any interest in sitting here and listening to you speak?"
Marcus had never looked worse. His goatee had turned disheveled and randomly spread out around his face. His hair was a little longer now, uneven. Even from here, she could see how incredibly dark the circles were under his eyes. Either he was choosing not to sleep, or he could not.
Either explanation made Beatrice satisfied, anyways.
"You do not have a choice," She told him simply, walking forward to the steel bars separating them. She wrapped a hand around one. "You are going to listen to what I have to say, Marcus Eaton. You are going to explain."
"Explain?" He laughed. "You do not command me, servant."
"I do not want to command you," she said truthfully, her voice softening slightly. "I just want to know your reasons. Why you took me from my family. From Tobias," her breath hitched. "How could you let them believe I was dead?"
Marcus stared at her. "Everything I did was to ensure my son's successful ascension to the throne. Your existence in his life was nothing more than a distraction. You persistently stayed in the castle, even after repeated attempts to tempt you to leave," he looked at her and sneered. "Like a mold."
She flinched.
He smiled, enjoying her reaction. In what seemed like forever, he had finally seen the effects of his words on another human. His entire motivation for her kidnapping was to prove to himself and to others that he was so powerful he could forcefully change the narrative, all on his own accord. It was the reason why he regularly stared at her while their positions were reversed; she was the embodiment of how far his power could go.
Yet now, she was standing on the other side, and he was the one chained to the floor.
He sneered and stood, stepping forward. "Let me make one thing clear, Miss Prior. I continue, and will always, own you. It was I who took you from your place in this world and held you here without anyone's knowledge. Do you understand how powerful I am?"
Caught up in his words, she had not even noticed he was standing a couple of feet away from her now. His chains are longer, she noticed.
"You were not released. You were not allowed to leave. You were not granted freedom," he reminded her. "The only reason you stand on the other side of this cell is that you escaped. Like the rat you are."
Although his words were previously affecting her, Beatrice found his last comment...amusing. It had reminded her of her escape - the reality of her escape. That she had done it all on her own with the help of her mind, broken as it still was.
"No," she finally said, glancing up at him. "I escaped because I was strong enough to. You tried to beat my spirits down here, but you were unsuccessful. This desire you have to control those around you has ceased, Marcus. I am no longer scared of you."
He scrunched his nose in disgust.
"You took me from behind, like a coward," she continued. "You toyed my mind with lies because you could not control the reality. You present yourself as this maliciously calculated ruler, but all your actions have been on impulse. You behave like a child."
Marcus stepped and reached forward, through the bars, effectively grabbing her hair. She groaned as he pulled her toward him, forcing her to slam against the steel bars. He chuckled and leaned in closer.
"I own you," he told her. More like a promise. "I will own you beyond my death, for the rest of your life. I will fill your head with nightmares. Do not forget this, Miss Prior."
Beatrice reached for her waist and grabbed the dagger she had brought. She looked up in her capturer's eyes - and saw nothing but hatred. He hated her with his entire being.
She raised her hand and brought the dagger down, ripping herself from his grasp by slicing her hair. He yelled out in pain, stumbling back, as he held his now bleeding hand. She stepped back and watched drops of blood fall from his hand to the floor.
He cursed at her relentlessly as she watched.
Consumed by the moment, Beatrice did not notice Tobias had entered the area until he reached for her arm. She widened her eyes at his presence, confused as to how he would be here.
Tobias, who had rushed down when he heard the yell, quickly reached for her hands after seeing the blood on the floor. He sighed in relief, seeing that she was not the one who was cut. He squeezed her palm and turned to the side, addressing his father.
His father, whom he had not seen since his wedding day. Since he had punched him unconscious and left him on the floor.
Marcus roared at the sight of his son. "You stupid, stupid, boy!" he yelled. "You are my biggest disappointment, Tobias! I curse the day you were ever born!"
Beatrice stepped in front of him.
Marcus laughed uncontrollably at the sight. His mind was slipping from sanity by the second. His blood on the floor was a reminder of the power he had lost. He was no longer in control.
And this tormented him beyond belief.
"You are a lotus flower, Beatrice!" he screamed. "You have come from a dirty pond, yet your beauty blinds those around you from your despicable characteristics!"
Beatrice glanced up at Tobias. Her only concern was the effect of his father's words on him. She could not even imagine a parent telling their own child such horrendous words.
To her surprise, Tobias flashed a smile. He did not care for his father's words because he knew they were only meant to hurt him, and if he allowed himself to be hurt, he would be handing his father power all over again.
He glanced at Beatrice. She was the reason why standing up to his father was worth it. Being able to be by her side was the only reason he found to disregard anything anyone would ever tell him.
He knew very well he was an unwanted son. Yet, his disappointing existence had led him to the one person who made his life worthy.
"That sounded like a compliment, Marcus," Tobias finally said, amused.
Marcus thrashed against his restraints as Tobias reached for Beatrice's hand, guiding her away and back up the stairs.
Marcus' laughter filled his ears, and although he tried to portray a brave face on his exterior, he knew those words and that laughter would effectively haunt him.
When they reached the top of the stairs in one of the castle hallways, Beatrice let go of his hand, stepping away. "I do not expect you to understand. I needed to see him."
Tobias did not say anything. Instead, he sighed and wrapped his arms around her, clutching her to him. She gasped, surprised by his action.
"You do not need to explain," he whispered, stroking the back of her hair. His heart beat fast with his arms around her, endlessly thankful she allowed him to hold her. It was his favorite thing to do.
She looked up and smiled, reaching out and stroking his face, silently thanking him.
He sighed and lowered his head to her shoulder, holding her tighter.
"There is nothing in this world that matters to me more than you do, Beatrice," he whispered.
She smiled, closing her eyes, reminding herself all over again that all the pain she suffered through was all worth it. For him.
Beatrice stared at herself in the mirror.
She reached and stroked the lock of hair that was sliced from her interaction with Marcus. Truth be told, she had never seen her hair so short. Her mother had always preferred longer hair, and after so long, she had not thought of any other way of styling it.
She took the scissors on the bathroom counter and raised it to her hair. In one heartbeat, she grabbed a fistful of hair and cut it through. The sight of so much hair falling to the ground almost startled her.
But then, it made her laugh.
She joyfully continued cutting her hair all around. The sound the slice made was so fulfilling, so gratifying, that she longed to continue and continue.
As if she were stripping away anything that reminded her of her suffering.
The years of being undermined by her family. The Emperor and his subordinates who laughed in her face when she rose a weapon to them. The countless insults she endured during her captivity.
It all seemed so meaningless.
Beatrice finally looked in the mirror, admiring her newfound short hair. It hung just above her shoulders - for the first time, she could not feel the weight of the hair on her body.
And there was something symbolic in that.
A knock interrupted her thoughts as Beatrice set the scissors down and rushed to the door. She opened the door, expecting to see Tobias, but was instead met with a servant.
"Miss Prior, your doctor wishes to inform you that the psychologist has arrived," she tells her before walking away.
Beatrice nodded and stepped out instantly, closing the door to the guest bedroom. She made her way down the steps toward the hospital wing, somewhat eager to meet the psychologist.
She opened the meeting room and sat on the couch, uncomfortable with being the first one there. I am so used to opening doors and already seeing people inside - it is a strange feeling to be the one waiting, she hummed to herself.
The door opened as the psychologist walked through. He stood in front of her and nodded before sitting in the chair across, collecting his notebook and taking a pen.
With a warm smile, he looked at the patient in front of him. He opened his words and, surely, words had come out, but Beatrice could not seem to hear him.
Not with the image of Alex behind him, waving to her.
She backed into the cushion as her heartrate accelerated. I thought I would be rid of Alex when I confronted Marcus! she cursed to herself. He is but another barrier to the life I am trying to move on from!
The psychologist sighed, noticing her sudden state. "Let us start simpler, hm?" he said, and she heard him this time. He closed the notebook and placed it on the table beside him, leaning over his knees and looking at her. "Let us start with you, Miss Prior."
"With me?" She asked. What else are we here for?
He chuckled. "Who is Beatrice Prior?"
She glanced at him.
Who is Beatrice Prior?
Although the question seemed ridiculous at first glance, Beatrice found herself smiling. She looked past the psychologist briefly and watched as Alex gave her a thumbs up, encouraging her. Yes, he is a nuisance, but he is part of my mind right now, she told herself, accepting that this was who she was right now.
And as complicated as her thoughts were, she opened her mouth, and her words came easier than expected.