The dimly lit corridors sent a certain platinum blonde's heart racing unceremoniously as she was whisked deeper and deeper, accompanied by two other royals who seemed so well versed with the path they were currently traversing, given their comfortable turns and steps despite the lack of illumination. It was almost as if they had spent hours taking turns to seek each other and hide whenever they got too wearied of the lack of proper activity in the lonely mansion they called home.
"Now is probably the right time to let me know if I'm going to be murdered in these dungeons."
"You can be hilarious when you want to be, Lee," Seraphine chuckled, her head turned back for a moment to acknowledge her cousin's absurd statement.
The nickname, however, sent a throb to Lysandra's heart as she remembered the earthens who adored her and called her Lee. Deciding not to portray any weakness, she did not object Seraphine addressing her that way and deep inside, she would dare admit that it strangely comforted her a bit.
"That didn't answer my question," Lysandra murmured to nobody in particular, scoffing to herself. Almighty royals and their blood secrecy.
Since she had popped the question regarding her past the previous day, Seraphine was surprisingly quiet, rather unnaturally. She had practically forced Lysandra to distract herself from the topic, touring her around the kingdom and letting her get acquainted with the local cultural practices. She stood out like a sore thumb everywhere, however, having quite a noticeable dressing style. She refused to wear pastels or the pretty dresses that were placed in her closet and stuck to her ripped jeans or t-shirt dresses. Her criticism of the smallest of deals riled up every person she met, rubbing them the wrong way.
The rumour was on full fledge, of the rogue princess returning back. The tale of her escapade consisted of the wildest of adventures that she wished she could have the pleasure to experience. People had even gone to great lengths to spread notorious stories far and wide, asking her how her stay at some African tribe was. Lysandra, despite having never been to that part of the world, laughed out loud, encouraging them by putting in her share of points regarding a few strange traditions of the wild folks she had created on spot.
The schooling system was quite the advancement compared to the age old customs they still abided by. The institutions were set up to train children in all aspects under careful monitoring of the tutors until they turned sixteen, capable of handling their maguses all by themselves. Categorising these teenage graduates into groups suitable for certain social activities to contribute to the kingdom and advanced training ranging from practical to psychological circumstances, they ensure the smooth transition of them into the most powerful version of themselves.
The healers ran a wing to ensure perfect health and thriving of the people whilst the warriors ensured the safety. The other cults indulged themselves into separate administrations built to confirm the unperturbed functioning concerning every aspect of survival.
Seraphine took the pleasure to let Lysandra know that she worked with the healers, using her magus to soothe people in pain along with teaching children how to fight when the mood struck her. Micah, whose magus enabled him to possess super strength and heal much quicker than the other bellators, was the chief of the warriors and Maevis worked under a wing which took care of the kingdom's foreign affairs and relations owing to her ability to teleport.
"Leonardo, let us in." Micah's voice boomed in the trickling silence as a guard immediately shot up, shuffling for the keys and opening the huge metal mesh for the warrior chief and his companions.
As they stepped further in, a pungent stink wafted through Lysandra's senses and her nose crinkled, trying to block out the rot. Auburn hair that resembled her past's silhouette painfully shone under the beam of sunlight through the smallish window. The corner most cell in the chamber beckoned them to come over and the metal shackles clinked making them aware of the occupant's frightening shuffle backwards, further into the wall.
"Celeste," Micah called out, his voice rumbling in a low whisper, surprisingly gentle.
The prisoner's head tilted upwards as she crawled towards the grills with an unexplainable desperation. Her lips arched into a weak smile as Seraphine reached for her hand through the bars and pushed her matted curls away from her face.
Grabbing the freshly baked delicacies that she had brought along, confusing Lysandra to no extent, Seraphine pushed them through the lean opening beneath the prison door and Celeste grabbed ahold the package with eager hands, struggling to untie the knot around the box but succeeding after a few seconds of struggle. Her eyes glazed over as she saw the panna cotta greeting her with a small smile.
"Why the fuck is she doing that? Isn't the girl a criminal?"
Micah visibly flinched at Lysandra choice of words and leaned towards her, whispering in her ear. "False accusations condemned her to the prison."
Lysandra nodded with pursed lips and then asked, "She your friend?"
"The dearest."
"Who arrested her?"
"Arrested?" His brows furrowed and then a breathy chuckle escaped his lips. "Oh, who do you think?"
"My parents, of course," Lysandra scoffed feeling a sense of revulsion course through her. All those years she had yearned for a blood relation, not realising how foolish that desire of hers was. "Why can't you put in a case against them? A petition, perhaps?"
"You must have forgotten this is a monarchy, I presume."
"Right. Bunch of old hags that you are. You don't even use guns for heaven's sake," Lysandra mocked, barely controlling the string of curses that were almost about to come bustling out.
"We use dart guns sometimes," Micah revealed as she gaped at him in blatant astonishment.
"Are your enemies wild animals in need of an anaesthetic? Or, is it your fetish to sedate them?
"Animals, they definitely are," Micah laughed. "The latter, I am still debating."
"Can you assure me she won't consider me a mad hatter? She is their daughter after all." Exhaustion coated the voice and yet, it seemed stern enough to avert Lysandra's attention towards her.
"Lysandra, come here," Seraphine demanded as Lysandra scuffled forward, showing no resistance whatsoever.
Red eyes, a pale face discoloured due to the lack of proper sunlight and hollow cheeks, highlighting the sharp jaw structure flared a subtle sense of fear within Lysandra and she stumbled, coming to a stand still, a few feet away from where her cousin was present, crouched down. When she was beckoned forward by Seraphine for the second time, her shaky arm raised up, pointing straight at the prisoner who's head was now lifted up, her hair twisted into a low knot behind her head and her gaze fixed upon the princess of the kingdom.
"Stunning, isn't she?" Micah drawled fondly, as Celeste beamed up at him. "Tends to stop people in their tracks."
"Her eyes." Lysandra was enraptured by their colour, far more astonished than when she was after she had seen the plum shade of Maevis's orbs.
"Majestic, I know."
Lysandra could say nothing to Seraphine, having observed the hatred that shone bright in those unusual crevices and having her memories tampered with did not assist in reassuring herself that she had done nothing to ruin the stranger's life or condemn her to the dungeons.
"What did I do?" she asked no one in particular.
"Given your reputation, you can do anything, I would say," Celeste rasped, her voice surging tremors through Lysandra.
"No, she does not have a role in the ruse. Her magus is unknown as of now, as well. She has just been brought back."
"Oh, I've heard. The Mikhael heir returned back to claim her throne. With the bloodline that she belongs to, you cannot expect anything generous," Celeste snarled, crossing her arms around herself protectively.
"Celestoula," Micah piped in, pleading her to trust them. "We would never willingly bring you more torment."
The fiery haired bellator hummed and stood up to her full height, letting her arms graze the metal bars. Seraphine walked over to Lysandra, towing her towards the cell.
"Do tell me, Lysandra. What is it that you seek?" Celeste's tongue shot out to wet her lips and circle the inside of her upper lip with a squeak. Jutting her lips forward into a pout when she was denied a response, she turned towards the younger of the two Dimitrovs, her curiosity striking up.
"I am aware that this is achingly difficult for you but, she needs to know the truth. Do our cause a favour, Cela."
"This is stretching everything a shade too far albeit it is high time we expose the past to Lysandra. She needs to know the severity of it all and she is not to be blamed to being cast away all these years and being returned back in midst of another ploy she has no clue about," Micah chimed in, supporting his sister's statement and offering a comforting glance to his crony.
"We protect our own, remember?" Seraphine commented. "Besides, debunking is our duty. The side she chooses will depend upon her own judgement of the issue."
"Manipulative bastards, the both of you," Celeste jeered and curled her index after pivoting towards Lysandra, gesturing for her to come closer.
Hesitantly, Lysandra did as she was told, giving in to the demands of the crimson-eyed. Her forehead was centimetres away from the bars after Celeste was pleased with her position, almost invoking a series of whimpers from the princess who was stunned at her own vulnerability and fear of what the future had in store for her.
Flinching when two cold, bony palms pressed against the two sides of her face, Lysandra shut her eyes tight. Her lips were tautly pursed and her hands were fisted so tight, catalysing her knuckles to turn pale.
Before she could anticipate any further, she was plunged into a series of moving reels, showing her a motion picture of a string of incidents. Blood and mania drowned her senses, rendering them utterly stagnant. A beam of light shone through and she scrunched her eyes further, trying to get away from the visions dropped inside her head. A surge of heat zapped her heart and she groaned, clawing Celeste's hands away from her, having seen enough horror to last her a lifetime.
Her legs gave away beneath her and she fell down onto her knees, shivering uncontrollably as her hands itched, her whole body burning up as though it was tossed into the flames. Tears pricked her eyes but she never let them get past the rims, swallowing up whatever agony she had experienced in the matter of a few seconds. Her wide gray eyes found the sanguine ones in an urgency and the latter gave away everything that she needed to know to prove to herself that all of it was not a bogus designed to torture her.
Words did not bubble past her lips as her head was a mess of perplexity and pain and she was not sure which of the two to let out. Raising her ardent hands up, she stared at them with gritted teeth until a channel of fire surpassed her skin and shot out to the roof. A couple more balls of flames escaped her palms to disappear within a matter of few seconds and she gasped, retracting her hands.
With her body curved in a defensive stance, she tucked her arms close to herself, entirely drenched in sweat. Her stoic face gave nothing away as her eyes which were previously brimming with so many emotions glazed over, becoming icy and empty. Her chin was raised up high with her lips set in a firm line and her shoulders rigid. Glancing over to the three other people who made no attempt to hide their bewilderment, she got back onto her feet, dusting herself nonchalantly whilst having a fixed eye contact with her company.
"Stay the fuck away from me."
don't get confused with people addressing each other by adding something extra to their names. look up for Greek endearments, the diminutives added after the names ;)
for the question, brownies or pastries?
(tough choice again but, the first option seems more appealing to me.)
P L E A S E V O T E