Lysandra assumed that she had figured out who she was. Her identity and persona were pellucid, she thought, at least to herself. But, circumstances proved her wrong. Evidently, the reflection staring back at her through the crystal portal said so as well.
She was no longer the temperamental redhead but the keeper of a royal title, a princess in making. You are the future of Athens Royale now, Lysandra, Seraphine had said not too long ago. Giving her a near whiplash, Seraphine put herself through a metaphorical enchanted tunnel, turning out to be quite different from a pale skinned blonde. She was, in reality, a dark-haired seductress with an olive skin tone. The only feature that did not change were her sea-blue eyes, reflecting her powers.
Lysandra was no exception to the drastic removal of all of the layers that were put up to hide their original identity. Her icy blonde locks that fell beyond her waist contradicted the fury coursing through her due to her own inability to control which direction her life was heading towards. The porcelain grey eyes held no warmth unlike her hazel ones which were the only portal to the fierce affection she had for a family that had taken her in so kindly.
Something anomalous pierced her heart and yet, she could not fathom what it truly was for, her whole life had been a cobweb of illusions and lies. A few, she had told herself to survive and guard her sanity from her past and the others were those her kith and kin had put into play to deceive her.
Preservation, they claimed. Deception, she accused.
The irony of the whole scenario was the actuality that Lysandra had done the exact same thing to herself and yet, she found comfort alleging the other human beings. Human nature, indeed.
Though, their kind exceeded the possibilities of mundane abilities.
It was a few hours after the chaotic removal of the facade altering charm, courtesy of her sweet aunt Raffaela Dimitrov. Her freckles, perfectly visible over the sheath of her pale skin, complimented the angular structure of her face and her button nose. She was stunned, unable to fully perceive herself as she was the complete opposite of what she was before. Her appearance implicated her to be a soft-spoken lady whose manners were on fleek. Her pale eyes twinkled, seeming rather ghostly and she sighed, attending to the knock that sounded on the room's door.
"Ready, Lysandra?" Raffaela asked, smiling accommodatingly.
Lysandra nodded, stepping out into the hallway to get to Seraphine and Maevis who were already prepped up to leave to the royal court. Unlike from their previous chic looking attires, they were now in formal dresses, adorned with subtle jewellery. Lysandra was partly forced into a grey sparkly ensemble with a halter neckline, exposing her bony shoulders. She thought it to be highly unflattering and insipid while every one else complimented how aptly the dress suited her frame, bringing out the jubilant eyes.
She had scoffed whilst streaking kohl across her lash lines and tipping herself with bonus points for managing to look decent. Her so called parents awaited a little surprise, she grumbled to herself as she ran her fingers through her platinum hair.
A blast from their treacherous past, precisely.
"You will be alright, Lysa," Laurent assured, his tone gentle and she succumbed to his touch, cuddling further into his arms as his chin rested atop her head, his fingers around her waist immersed into playing with her long hair.
He was still a little astounded with the sudden change of her appearance and a little disappointed because he adored her fiery hair which always reminded him of what a lethe firecracker she was. However, he couldn't complain about the makeover, either. It had alleviated her to another level of beauty.
Lysandra could not take her eyes off of the heavily ornamented pilasters placed equidistantly adjacent to the walls of the hallway adorned with abstract art. The whole corridor was practically shimmering due to the chalky enamel and the beaming chandeliers that hung high onto the ceiling. She never would have imagined the gothic cathedrals and palaces to be full of life instead of the dark monumental edifices that were a tourist attraction in her previous world, the earthen world.
"I never thought I would be saying this but, thank you, Laurent."
Laurent chuckled, bringing her frazzled body closer to his chest. "Oh, don't bother, darling. I will get all of my favors back one after the other. You owe me now."
"Jerk," she accused, smiling inwardly and proceeded to push him away as a voice cleared their throat, interrupting their moment.
"The King and Queen demand your presence. You can go in now," Maevis asserted, rather rudely and Lysandra wondered why the raven haired bellator despised her but, stayed mute realizing that her own feelings and responses towards her were not friendly either.
On cue, the huge teak doors opened as the two guards saluted, bowing down into a curtsy. Lysandra fumbled, offering them a crisp nod before getting pulled away by Maevis who hissed at her, unnervingly.
"You are a royal. You mustn't stoop down to the sentry's standard or bow to them like a pathetic servant."
"I detest snobs and God forbid that I should act like one," Lysandra bit back, composing herself and walking beside her.
Just as they reached the pedestal on which the King and Queen were seated, Lysandra averted her gaze upwards for the first time after she had set foot into the court. The jewel encrusted seats were put to shame with the majestic attire and ornaments emblazoning the power holders. Greece had been the biggest shocker in her whole life, she declared inwardly, never having seen such riches and regalia before.
She could barely stop the bitter laughter that threatened to bubble out of her at the implication of her being the sole heir of it all, if by any chance Seraphine's insane claims ring true. When she came to think of it, Raffaela had called her a princess as well.
"Your highness, allow me to present to you the future of Athens Royale, the young princess, Lysandra Mikhael," Raffaela announced, walking up to Lysandra from her seat.
Lysandra was told that all of the members of the ministry made it a point to meet up with the leaders almost every day to ensure the smooth functioning of the town. There were gaudy seats, arranged in a row to either sides of her. Surrounded by aloof looking people whose poker faces gave nothing away, Lysandra felt as though she was attending a dead man's extravaganza.
"My daughter, you say, Raffaela?" the Queen said, rising from her seat and smoothing down her long hair.
"Precisely, my Queen Zemira."
"Oh. What made you assume so, might I ask?" It was the King who had spoken, his voice intimidating, sending shivers down Lysandra's spine. His ashy orbs resembled her own and she could not take her eyes off of her so called mother's light hair, twisted into an elegant up do, uncannily similar to hers.
"I have spent quite a lot of time travelling back and forth between the earthen world and Athens, building up clues to where the princess might have run off to after the tragedy, your grace," Seraphine explained in a gentle but stringent tone. "After all of that research and certain affirmations, I'd accurately like to say that Lysandra over here is your heir, the one that we have spent so long searching for."
"Affirmations of what kind, Seraphine? I would appreciate it if you were a bit more specific. Vagueness arises far too many accusations."
Lysandra could not believe how disdainful the rulers were. She could never have guessed that she would be treated like that, by her own parents, if that fact were true. She would rather not associate herself with people as such though they were her own flesh and blood.
"I will tell you, your majesty," she spat. "Your dear sister, Raffaela here could succesfully erase the disgusting altering charms you had her place upon me. I cannot believe you would abandon your own child. But then again, what would I know about the snobbish royals, right? I did not grow up as one. I am a ratchet orphan."
"Lysandra," Seraphine warned.
"That is quite enough from you, child," the King, Eucarpus, spoke up, silencing the whispers from the whole court. "The circumstances were so dire that we had to take the measure. Albeit, we did ensure you were safe with an earthen couple. And ever since their rather appalling death, we have been searching for you— "
"Bullshit," she scoffed, arms crossed across her chest.
"Lysandra," Zemira soothed, sounding exasperated. "You will refrain from cursing. And the matter you are concerned with requires a private handling without any sort of audience."
Before Lysandra could shoot her down with another one of her insults, the doors were banged open again. Gavril, Raffaela's husband, entered in, dragging someone familiar behind him.
Lysandra's body shook in disgust and partial fear as she stared at the man who had once called himself the King's servant sent to take her and then treated her body as his own personal plaything to touch as he pleased. She couldn't even begin to imagine what would have happened if Kenna didn't take him by surprise, pushing the lavatory door open and making him disappear.
There was a certain kind of terror splattered across the faces of every member seated in the royal court at that moment, given the chafed appearance of the busty guard who was quite well known, always trailing behind the King. Gavril Dimitrov dragged him by the chains, attached to the prisoner's cuffed neck and hands as he waddled forward, almost mechanically.
His face displayed fear as his head did not lift up too far to look straight into Eucarpus's eyes. A servant would never dare consider himself worthy enough to level himself with the royals, be it normally and even more so if he considered his current stage of being a criminal.
"I apologise, your majesty," he started. "But, this is a matter I would like to bring to your attention in public. Your most loyal guard tried to assault the princess and if not for her earthen friend, he would have succeded. Adding to that, he also put our exposure in risk by using his magus in a public area, a women's restroom, to be specific."
"Faustus," Eucarpus rumbled, fixing his crown. "I give you five seconds to confess."
"I apologise, my King," he cried, falling onto his knees. "But, I can assure you I haven't—
"Either way, you have lost the right to defend yourself. You have risked our exposure, which is a severely punishable crime in itself."
Lysandra felt the urge to roll her eyes at how dramatic the whole scenario was. She was no fool to disagree the seriousness of it all, given the fact that she was the one who was nearly assaulted but then again, her so called father's voice held absolutely no emotion at all and conveyed no hints as to what he really cared about - the suffering of his dearest offspring or the loss of his loyal guard who, no doubt, did all of his dirty work, at least according to what Lysandra fathomed.
"Spare me some mercy, please! I beg of you— "
"Take him to the dungeons," Zemira ordered, noticing his husband's hesitation and the guards stepped forward, dragging the vile man out of the court, paying no heed to his incoherent screams and pleas. "Prepare for the beheading."
Lysandra mentally fist bumped herself confirming her theory of Faustus, the creep, being Eucarpus's dirty worker. His facial expressions gave nothing away, his lips sets into a firm and stoic line but his eyes, as they all say, were the windows to his soul.
They shimmered with the hurt of betrayal and regret, staring at the receding figure of his friend, through the court, straight to his execution. It was clear that he would have personally invited him back in, if not for his position demanding a just decision without being influenced by any personal factors whatsoever.
Raffeala approached her sister, as if wanting to say something and Seraphine's eyes widened at the Queen's abrupt and rash decision towards Faustus and the whole court cheered, wrongly assuming it to be the result of motherly instinct to protect her daughter from further harm and also to do justice towards the man's scandalous treatment towards her.
"You," Zemira pointed towards Lysandra. "Follow me. An impending discussion awaits us."
royalty is such fun to write. so, what are your opinions on the whole thing?
pastel or neon?
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