Hi guys! Here's the next chapter, as promised!
Catharsis
By Gold Sparrow
Chapter 4: White
The woman was gentle and docile.
But it was fake.
"She's faking it, Bath. She's a woman of layers."
Bathsheba knew that moment the woman's hand slipped into her own, eyes like a doe's. They were a melted brown, or perhaps an amber, that glowed the same way that sun does through a cover of clouds. Her hair was brown, definitely, but a darker color. Painstakingly, the woman had segmented her hair in two ponytails, and let it go all the way to her feet. If left out of the hairstyle, Bathsheba knew that her husband's mistress's hair would create rivers of chocolate. But, because she couldn't blame a girl born to be one of David's "special magicians" for her mindless actions, she resolved not to hate her. Even should she take David's attention, which, Bathsheba knows, wouldn't be such a bad thing.
"He doesn't love her."
How unfortunate.
"My name is Arba. I am to be your handmaiden, Lady Bathsheba."
Bathsheba offers a smile of friendship toward the kneeling handmaid and mistress, deciding that, if she wants to win this terrible game, she must make allies.
I'm terrible.
"Live, Bath."
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
There was a red carpet that stretched along the stones, draped over four regal stairs. Bathsheba walks down that carpet, focusing on the way his robes are arranged around him. He had tried to do something with his hair, she notices, but only managed to get it to stay behind him instead of slipping over his shoulders in crazy waves. He's staring at her, but she refuses to meet his gaze. His gaze is like poison.
It is like ice.
And yet it rings with the heat of summers gone by.
She does not allow him to look into her eyes.
She tries to pretend it is entirely a matter of defiance, but it isn't and it hurt to realize that.
Up, up, up, and up, and suddenly he's close and the church is too perfect. He wove her a fairy tale wedding out of the dreams that every normal woman wants.
Not her.
Because normal women, in this world, are brainwashed into believing that their husbands are glorious warriors and that they protect them from ravenous monsters lurking beyond their borders. They think that as long as they make their homes clean, educate their children in the morally correct way and contribute to a society paved around them that they'll be alright, that their husbands will be pleased, and that they too are warriors.
They're not.
She knows.
Morally correct is wrong. The idea that oppressing beings that are different from them is wrong. There is nothing right in this world anymore, not since David took over. Not since the innocence of a child was synthesized to the purity of the Church.
Four months after meeting him, she's dressed in white, a pure, pure white. The corset of the dress is too tight, the material chaffing her legs. The train annoys her but she can't fix it, her scalp is sore because of the endless tugging of Arba's hands.
There is a brightness in the air, a lightness that cannot be matched anywhere else. The world comes into focus, a world she blocked out with red carpets and black hair. People beyond David, people standing with silent faces and large smiles, magicians clothed in funeral black. Cheering too, cheering things that makes her want to cringe.
"Long live the King and Queen!" A pounding at her temple, a panic settling in her stomach. What has she done? What has she given up? What does she want anymore?
The image of a dorky man with red-tinted cheeks and thick framed glasses flashes across her eyes. Another man hunched over a table, quickly scribbling out notes during her lecture and looking up eagerly. A mentor who shows her wrinkles, who points out faults, who dances on the ledge of a roof and screams out his wishes.
It's too much and not enough. She wants it all to fade away, she wills it to.
Sing to me.
The voices don't respond. They don't hum a single note.
David smiles down at her, holding her hands lightly. But it's not a real smile, because that's the smile she sees him give the Elders on his council and the magicians who eagerly look up to him.
She blankly returns his stare until amusement slips into his face and he tightens that grip. Only then does she force a smile, because at least now he's being just a bit more truthful to himself and to her. That this isn't a real wedding, nor a real marriage.
He caught her when she tried to escape, and now she's his till death do they part.
Too much, too much and not enough. But to the rest of the world she is a beautiful bride without a care.
It's joyous occasion, and the magicians celebrate and cheer loudly for their King and new Queen.
Bathsheba keeps deliberately still when David gently lays his lips on hers, an act to confirm her worst nightmare: she's his forever now.
Cheering, cheering, cheering, and the King and his captured Queen wave.
I married her to me.
No more running, hm?
Though, I can't help but wonder, what kind of bird did I just clip the wings of? I suppose it does not matter, we all return to the same kind of birds once we die. I shall not. I shall complete my goal and reach something higher.
But you, my Queen, will stay with me. 'Till death do we part'? No, nothing like that.
I'll take you with me when I go.
"Arba?"
"Yes, Mistress?"
Bathsheba studies the woman for a moment, surveying her.
"She does not hate you."
If such a thing were true, then perhaps even the voices were tricked by the brunette. As far as Bathsheba was concerned, trusting Arba was like allowing David to rule her whole life. She gives a kind smile to the handmaid.
"Would you like to go for a walk?"
"A walk?"
"Yes. I hear the gardens are beautiful...And I love to study plant life." Bathsheba offers her elbow like a man would, and the barest hint of surprise coats the gentle slopes of Arba's face. Up close the woman is so much prettier than far away, her eyes slightly larger than they appear, her almost bland nose looking just slightly more slim and befitting to her features.
"Mistress, I could not-" Bathsheba takes her hand and guides it to the offered elbow, placing it there with the utmost gentleness. Softly, the new Queen squeezes the hand and shakes her head.
"I would love to have a friend, Arba."
"A-a friend?"
"Of course. We could be like sisters."
"Treat her with the kindness she's never received, even from David, and she'll grow to love you."
Bath lets the soothing voice massage her shoulders and create a blanket of calmness over her mind. With the same tenderness of a mother and affection of a sister, Bathsheba begins to show Arba what being loved is like.
Arba-chan is here y'all! And she's Bath's handmaid...? Yay development! Also yes, I'm having Arba secretly be David's lover. I always got the vibe that she "worshipped" him that way, if you know what I mean. She never seemed to see him as a father...Plus, in latest chapters she's been all over Sinbad (who is connected to Davie dearest.) So yeah. That happened.
AND ALSO DAVIE AND BATH GOT MARRIED WHAT THE HELL.
Got any questions or suggestions? Something wrong about the chapter? Grammatical errors, something you didn't like? PM me or leave it in the reviews, I will reply and see what I can do to make the story better/clearer for y'all to understand. ILY MY DARLING READERS!
BYE~~~~~~~