Author's Note: Alright, so here is my newest story. It delves deeper into the dark side then my usually stories. It also goes into description of rape. There isn't any scenes of the actual rape, but it is a major deal in this story. So if you don't like that, please don't read or at least tread carefully.
Disclaimer: I OWN nothing.
This is an Elijah and Elena story, don't like don't read. There are descriptions of sex and harsh language, don't like? Don't read. See the picture? Yay! :)
Otherwise, for you other wonderful freaks, delve into my funny mind . . . or crazy mind, whichever you prefer.
Reviews for Chapters, let me know what you think!
Happy Reading . . .
There is a difference between being bound and being caged. When you are bound, you are immobile. There is no movement, and every single breath you take is controlled. When you are caged there is still mobility. The feeling of four walls trapping you in is more traumatic than ropes tying you down. In my opinion, anyways.
I am caged. Granted, my cage is a four point something million square foot castle, but I am caged nonetheless. Honor is something that the royal family must emanate. With every breath. Every word, every step, and every time we wake up in the morning. Honor. Nobility. Perfection. It is an expectation granted upon us at birth all because of our money and standing. A child. No older than five minutes. Hath taken no more than four measly breaths, is subjected to a millennia of expectations.
It does not matter what the first born son wants in life. He will grow up to be king. He will rule. He will subject himself and his family to the order of Royal Politics. Men and women will bow to him just as they will wish to his slice his throat, all because of who god chose as his parents.
The first born daughter will be known as a trading tool. A pawn her country can sell to another in marriage. She will be first in line to the throne, if anything should happen to the first born son. Perhaps he died in infancy or before he could take thrown. Or maybe, her mother was not lucky enough to bore a boy. That is a damnation. Should a queen not be able to birth boys who will turn into men, then she is nothing in her standing and shall be replaced.
The daughter will grow in grace and beauty, it is a must, an expectation. God forbid she have a loose tongue or a temper the size of a king's. A lady is a lady and she will act as such or punishment will ensue. I am the first born daughter to King Grayson and Queen Miranda. I was expected to grow in honor and nobility with grace and beauty shining through my features and I did, but I was no longer allowed to be used as a pawn. At ten years old that was taken from me. I was ruined. Sullied. Defiled. I was useless.
For a princess cannot be a princess if she has no virtue. No matter if it was taken by force. She was ruined. No questions asked. I am ruined. I am princess of France. I hold royal standing in all courts of Europe. I hold friends in places that not even my father could touch. I hold enemies who were terrified of me.
My younger sister Elizabeth became the pawn. Of course my mother could not have a scandal, but that did not stop the talk. I had not bled a month of cycle yet. There was no chance of pregnancy, but I was still done. Everything that made me special, according to the law, was revoked by a plot to take me down. And it had, taken me down, that is, but it had not defeated me. I never left. I am back and I am sure, hell will rise at the expense of my enemies. Blood will shed. I will reign.
•••
Flabbergasted is too soft a word to describe my feelings at the moment. Stunned? Exasperated? Yes, sure, all of those words describe my feelings at the moment, but they are too tame. I was furious, stunned, and upset. All of those overwhelming emotions seemed to boil and simmer in my gut until a large ball of something so indescribable I was sure I was seeing dots dance across my vision.
"Bonnie, are you legitimately serious?" I asked the girl, standing a few feet away from me. She looked gorgeous, as always. We stood eye to eye at our matching five feet six inch height, only about an inch separating us with the different heels we wore. Her face was stricken with grief and apology. An apology she was not required to deliver. My father owed me an apology. The man who raped me owed me more than an apology. Britain owed me an apology. The list goes on and on, but Bonnie, Queen of Scotland, is not on that list.
"Unfortunately, Elena, I am." She murmured, still looking guilty. God the girl was young. Young and forced into a world of war and greed all because of the womb she was conceived. Nine years old was the second time her life had been threatened. Second. For god's sake this girl could not catch a break. And now, she was tied to my brother. A brother who happened to have his old lover back. Anna. That brought another surge of fury into the large, ever-growing ball still simmering in my belly.
I was pacing. My arms at my sides while my fists clenched repeatedly. My head was still held high as I moved in calculated motions. "Well, then, let us pay visit to my little sister and the King of Great Britain." I lock eyes with her. We shared a look. She did not enjoy the country any more than I did. It had destroyed many of her people. Still tried. Not to mention the English were the only reasons she had a target on her head. Besides the crown of course.
We walked side by side. Two women, each with a different destiny tied to the same pole. Friends in the midst of enemies. Allies in the midst of betrayers. It was rather odd at how Bonnie and I connected. With her being sixteen and me, being six years her senior, we honestly should not have gotten along as well as we have, call us kindred spirits or something.
We entered the throne room and I saw Jenna. My little sister. The whore of the castle. She was not ruined, yet I was. She slept with anyone left and right, drank like a fish, and had a tongue as loose as a snake, yet I was the one sullied and dank. Yes, I resent her. Yes, I loathe her, but I was still princess of this castle. She was an outsider. I was pushed out without my consent. She left. In all honesty, the rage, resentment, and bitter jealousy I held for her all simmered down to one thing; pity and contempt.
"Little sister." I greeted and she cast me a side long look.
"What is with the smug smile, Elena? I heard English was entering the castle, with invitation and not just that, but a personal invitation. To King Elijah himself." She pointed out, her voice a mix between smug and false innocence. An awkward tension thickened the air in the room. Bonnie cleared her throat.
"King Grayson, when will your guests be arriving, sir?" She asked, false politeness in her tone. Not surprising. My father was an ass.
"Tomorrow morning." Grayson answered with a dismissive wave of his hand while Jeremy stepped in.
"Father, I beg that you reconsider. Might I remind you, these English did destroy the reputation of your first born." Jeremy said, his face and voice a mask, but I could literally taste the fury rolling off of him. I loved him. Unlike Jenna or Elizabeth, Jeremy held no resentment or jealousy towards me. He protected me as if he were the elder one and I was little child. After the rape, I was no longer bound by royal duties, much like my older half-brother Matt. We got close and he taught me how to hunt, ride horses, and sword fight.
I was no longer bound by tea parties or anything else that involved Royal Politics. I was free and my sisters hated me for it. That is why Jenna is so quick to act out. It is why Elizabeth was always so cold. I was not just exiled from my society, but my family as well. My brothers and parents were really the only ones that did not completely shut me away.
"Thank you, brother, but I think father knows what he is doing. Is there a treaty being formed, dad?" I asked him, his eyes slowly left Jeremy and met my own. He sat up straighter, as if preparing for a physical attack. I, however, knew his attack was emotional.
"Leave. Shut the doors." Grayson demanded to the servants and guards in the room. When they all cleared out and the echo of the banging door was slowly reverberating around the room, then there was only the inner circle. My father and mother. My father's mistress. My brothers. My sister and Bonnie.
"There could be a treaty. If we found some common ground. Elijah is not like his father or his mother-." My father did not get to finish that.
"So, he is not a psychopath sending pedophiles out to rape innocent children. What a fucking relief." My voice was bitter. I was still furious. The ball of emotion was not as big now because I knew I had at least Bonnie and Jeremy on my side, but it was still there and it was still deafening.
"Watch your language." My father was quick in that. As if on habit. I scoffed. He continued.
"As I was saying, King Elijah is tired of war. He merely wants peace and in all honesty, I have no disagreements with him. This war, in my opinion, can be avoided if we all work together. We merely need Spain in agreement. I have no idea what the treaty will entail, but this visit will be done with peace and grace. I know you hold hatred for the English, daughter and rightfully so, but this man is a king and he will be respected as such, am I clear?" He demands and I open my mouth to tell him where to shove it, but he knew me too well.
Holding up a hand, he stares me dead in the eye, "He put his parents to death, Elena, does that not say something about his viewpoint? He has brought most of his country out of poverty and now he wants to end a war. He is either the bravest man I have ever communicated with or he is extremely stupid. In all honesty, I do not think the man is without schooling. So we will respect him. You will respect him. Or so help me god, Elena, I will send you to Paris!" He had risen, his voice a loud roar around the tense and silent room.
He stood there. Looking very much like a king speaking down to his child. I did not lower my eyes. I did not get teary eyed. I kept eye contact, my chin slightly lifted. "I make no promises, father. You know me. I may call the man an ass and if he sees fit to punish me. Then so be it, I do not want your advice or your protection and I do not need. I merely want you to understand how insanely stupid it is. To invite a man who rules a country responsible for the death and mayhem that reeks these lands into your home." My voice was exasperated with an icy lace tinged beneath.
He walked down the steps and I could practically see my mother holding her breath. Both of my brothers inched forward, hands on the sheath of their swords. Each of their mothers glanced at them, while our father paid no mind. "This is my castle. My country. I will not be spoken down to by a child with no standing. You will bow. You will lick the man's shoe if he wishes. If not, you will need protection, but not from him. From me." There was nothing about his eyes or his voice that made me to want to call his bluff.
What my father seemed to forget was that I had nothing to live for. He thought me a weak woman afraid of her own damn shadow. I was not. I never would be.
I merely smiled and nodded once. "Of course, father, and if he wishes my legs spread, he will do so himself. I have no doubt." I did not wait for a response. I turned on my heel and walked out of the throne. I had dismissed him. I had dismissed him on his own grounds. In his own castle. That was the most blatant show of disrespect, but that is okay. I did not respect him and he knew I was untouchable. I was the only thing keeping a crown on his head, after all.