When I am queen I will insist
With perfect scars upon my wrists
That everything you once held dear
Is taken away from you.~*~When I am Queen – Jack Off Jill~*~
Holding her hand with cold fingers, the Prince led Raylah up the dusky corridor. They trod on damp, splinted stone with echoing footsteps and cast angles of shadow upon the bleeding walls. Despite the complete silence and apparent desolation of the castle, Raylah felt secure. Trust, from the very pit of her heart, she felt for Prince Ayden and she knew instinctively that he would never harm her. It was as though they had met upon some occasion once before and their meeting now was merely fate.
Together they scaled a twisting, narrow staircase encased in pitch-like gloom. Higher and higher they climbed, ascending floor after floor. Raylah clung to the Prince, soon growing weary. So long she had run, fleeing from the demons of her past, that it felt as though she could flee no longer. Each step above caused exertion but she could not find it in her to complain. She did need to see the King and Queen, as she needed her memories of the past, no matter how grim.
The stairs spiraled upwards and at length they reached the summit. Before them stretched a darkened, narrow corridor running some twenty yards. Enormous windows flanked the walkway at intervals, casting moon-lit shadows upon the dusty floors. At the hallway's far end stood a black door, words that she could not read from this distance, writ upon its surface.
"Yonder lies my Queen's chambers," Prince Ayden spoke, letting go of her hand. "Step forth and court shall be held with thee."
Raylah met his steely eyes. "Thou wouldst leave me then?"
"That I must, Princess." Long fingers skimmed the slope of her cheek. "I shall find thee again, fret not. You are to me as mine own heart."
Pink heat spilled into her cheeks and she averted her eyes. "What words thy doth speak," she murmured. "Eagerly I shall await, if it would please thee."
"That it would." His tone was deep and warm, diffusing into her skin with tingling shivers. He caught hold of Raylah and pressed his mouth upon hers. Her mouth opened beneath his, to both taste and surrender. She allowed herself to revel in his warmth and masculine gallantry. His hands brushed over her skin in sketches of what would come, had they all of time at their beckoning. Her heart raced at unnatural speeds, liquid heat imbuing throughout her body. Her own hand caught his roving one for were they to go on, she would be unable to stop. His lips clung to hers before they cleaved apart. Sliding his fingers from her, Raylah felt as though something precious he'd taken from her. A piece of her it surely must have been, for isolated she suddenly did feel.
"Anon we shalt meet," the Prince promised throatily and before she could reply, he was gone.
Raylah shivered in the darkened corridor. She touched her kissed-lips once before finding her way forward. The sensation of being watched was a glaring one. Raylah pulled her cloak tightly around her body and avoided looking through the glass windowpanes. She did not desire to know whether her thoughts were correct in nature. Hastily she walked the hallway's length, wishing that the Prince had not left her side. Upon reaching the door, she could not help but glance behind her. Shadows shifted and made rustling sounds.
"'Tis merely the wind," she told herself half-heartedly and turned back to the door.
She was now able read the metal-wrought, swirling script that graced the face of the door. It was a curious passage, shaped with faintly malignant undertones.
The Enfeebled provides the fool
The Disabled provides the affection
The Apathetic demands the affection
To those suffering from their own satisfaction (1)
Shivering, Raylah reached out to touch the ornate door handle but again, as before, this door opened of its own accord. Beyond was spread a large, dark room lit only by a massive flagstone fireplace in the far corner. Stone pillars divided the chamber into sections, some hidden behind heavy violet tapestries, some open and saturated with shadows. The entire area was crammed full with furniture and priceless decorative items. Everything from paintings and statues to ancient weapons and shelves of tomes was coveted in this room.
Wringing her cold hands together, Raylah stepped further into the room. Behind her, the door slammed shut with a vociferous bang. She jumped and looked over her shoulder. Of course there was no one behind her.
"Come hither."
Her head snapped forward, inky locks springing upon her pallid cheek. In the far corner, behind a heavy tapestry, Raylah could see two silhouettes illuminated by the glow of tapers weak. One shadow was clearly male whilst the other was female. Raylah shifted closer, treading upon thick carpet and moved down a couple of steps into the heart of the room. The Queen, for surely this was indeed the Royal Couple, gestured at a stone bench in the murk of three massive suits of armour. Raylah sat, apprehension smearing from her frosted skin.
"Your Majesty?" she asked timidly.
The King spoke, his voice rich and full of commanding authority. Raylah found that the tone was familiar, as though she had once past encountered it. "From whence doth thou hail, wench?"
"I cannest say with certainty, Your Majesty," Raylah confessed. "I awoke in the forest most deep and ere that time is unbeknownst to me. I fled in fear and arrived hither. I seek both shelter and knowledge. All I cannest say is that 'twould seem I be the Princess of Ardeth."
"Ardeth hath no Princess," the Queen proclaimed in flat though oddly dire tones.
"But I am she," Raylah cried. "To me thine own son had spoken it as such!"
"Upon what proof?" the King demanded.
"I bear the emblem of Ardeth upon my ring," Raylah replied in relief. She held out her hand and was stunned to see that her hand was bare.
"You seek to lie then," the Queen declared triumphantly.
"In lying I have no reason." Raylah toyed nervously with her cloak as she peered about the floor. She must have dropped the ring...it could be anywhere now! "I seek not to deceive you, Your Majesty. The Prince too did mistrust my person but upon seeing my ring, he did proclaim my lineage."
"Where then, is this ring you speak so earnestly of?"
"That I do not know. 'Twould appear that I had dropped it along the way's edge someplace. For that I must beg thine pardon."
Save for the crisping of the fire, the room grew silent. Raylah waited with much anxiety. Why would the Queen say that Ardeth has no Princess? What had truly happened? She hadn't...she couldn't have taken flesh...could she? Surely not!
"For this night only you shalt be given lodgings," the King spoke at last. "The storm rages deep."
"Thine all actions shalt indeed be noted," the Queen warned. "Against thee is much to qualm."
"I thank thee most copiously," Raylah breathed. She hesitated for an instant before giving in to her curiosity. "Why should thy assert, Your Majesty, that Ardeth hath no Princess?"
"Ardeth now lay in ruins," the King answered instead. "All done by the callous hand of the Princess. Much speaks doth come this way of Ardeth's goings-on but what be truth and what be falsities is difficult to say. Should thine identity be as thy hath claimed then..."
This silence was as viscous as what had been carved from her.
From thine deeds, thou cannest flee.
Raylah's blood ran cold.
(1) Taken from 'Blessings Upon the Throne of Tyranny' by Dimmu Borgir, a Melodic Death Metal band from Norway. They fucking own.