Prologue
She could smell the earth draw near as her eyes searched for the light at the end of the dark, damp tunnel. She felt the sides of the jagged rock wall with her right hand.
She felt cold moss and liquid mixed in with the stone tracing her fingertips as she moved forward, using the wall as her support. Short of breath, she struggled to get out. Slight stings coursed over her body, a reminder of the pain and exhaustion she endured. She felt blood drip down her limbs, knowing it was a mixture of hers and the memory of everything she just had to do.
Images of a scared little boy clutching onto her pants as ten men surrounded both of them in an arena of sand, flashed before her vision. She felt the ghost feeling of a dagger's handle in her palm. All she could remember feeling emotionally during that moment, was the need to protect the child that held onto her. She didn't let herself register the pain at the time as one of the men swiped a blade towards the child and she blocked it with her body and dug her blade into the man's neck.
She paused her steps momentarily in the dark tunnel when her body and brain caught up and winced because of pain shooting into her side. She took her left hand and felt her side and noticed there was a tear in her tunic, dampened and sticky. The smell of copper infiltrated her nostrils. She had a large gash in her skin that was bleeding out slowly. She struggled to remember exactly how she received the wound, as she was coming down from her adrenaline trance.
Was it from the first striker? Or maybe it was the fifth man? she thought.
The woman grit her teeth and took in a deep breath. Her body felt heavy against the wall, it ached deep within her muscles and bones. But she had to continue to move, she couldn't let her exhaustion win. She moved one foot in front of the other as she continued to brace the jagged wall for support. A slight limp became evident in her steps. She hated that she had to rely on the cover of darkness to show what's truly going on with her. She wasn't allowed to let him see her falter in her steps. Not if she wanted to tend to her wounds properly.
Muted sounds filled the tunnel and her ears as she continued on.
What is this noise? she thought as she got closer to the light of the surface.
The sounds that echoed through the stone walls started to ring louder through her ears like a stampede of cattle as she limped on towards her way out. She stopped again as she took in the entrance of the tunnel.
Another memory planted itself in her head as she recognized the noise. The sound of cheers and screams from a distant crowd that watched her as she jumped on the back of one of the few remaining men in the arena. She remembered feeling blood drench her hands as she slid her blade across the man's neck.
Was it the bald one with a tattoo of a woman? Or was it the younger man with short auburn hair, blackened teeth that wreaked of vomit and alcohol? She shook the thoughts from her mind. She had to stay present for her next steps.
She forced herself to straighten her posture. She had to grit her teeth harder in order to walk as if she felt no pain. Her heartbeat quickened as she felt more adrenaline course through her muscles. Finally, she moved forward again and did her best to stone her facial features. The tunnel entrance moved past her body and her eyes stung from the sun's rays that finally graced her fair skin. The warmth that spread through her body was like a feeling of walking next to a warm fire on a cold night. She closed her eyes for a few seconds to take it in.
Her long golden curls and braids shined in the light despite blood that dripped down the tips of her hair. She opened her eyes and saw that she was surrounded by flesh and mixed shouts of at least a hundred people. A vibration of the noise hit her chest and made her stand impossibly straighter. She almost let herself slip away in front of them. She couldn't let that happen.
A familiar face walked closer to her from the center of the crowd. It was a man, tall with a stocky build. His medium length beard was a mix of gray and black colors. His eyes were dark and filled with obvious disdain that couldn't be hidden by the rest of his calm facade.
"Emma," he called to her from a few feet away. He gave the blonde his signature fake smile. "You did well. Not as well as you could have if you were quicker on your feet, however, I'm sure you'll learn that lesson very soon."
His voice sent chills down Emma's spine as it had for the past nineteen years of her life. She couldn't meet his gaze and finally looked down to her hands and saw the depths of how stained they were with blood and dirt. Her clothes were nothing but dirty rags, covered in rips and slices that were obviously caused by a blade and her body falling into the sand.
She bowed her head down to appear respectful of her grandfather, King Leopold. She saw his feet carry him in closer proximity to her and then the blonde felt as he took a strong hold of her right arm and lifted it into the air. A sting ran down her arm so she chanced a quick glance to it and saw another long shallow cut ran down its length.
"Princess Emma White, our champion!" the king yelled to his people.
Their stench filled the air from the sudden roar of cheers. The mix of the smell and the pain she felt caused Emma's stomach to turn with nausea. She looked around the crowd, so many people held fear in their eyes as they looked at her. As she continued to scan the people with her eyes, she caught sight of the boy that clutched onto her for protection in the arena.
He was covered in dirt and blood, luckily none of the blood appeared to be his own. She saw an arm that was wrapped around the shoulder of the child and looked to make eye contact with a woman, she assumed it was the boy's mother. She was obviously crying and mouthed some words to her that the blonde couldn't understand. Emma didn't react to the woman, she couldn't, even if she wanted to. Her expression had to stay impassive, so she just continued to stand there as the king held her arm in the air.
Leopold squeezed her arm impossibly tighter. She felt the pressure on the wound there and felt a deeper pain shoot through her arm. She knew if she made any kind of reaction she would end up being put through even more pain. Over the years she learned to understand that the king would put her through another training against his men for the next week if she showed him any form of weakness.
What's worse was that Leopold knew what he was doing the moment he held that tighter grip on her arm. Emma just continued to looked straight ahead to her people. She noticed in the corner of her eye that he was smirking but she refused to fall for it. A moment later he threw her arm down and pursed his lips showing a slight disgust with his expression and pulled a cloth out of the pocket of his regal coat. He wiped his hands of the blood he got on himself from the blonde's body.
"Get cleaned up, you wreak of filth."
Emma did not look at him, she just bowed her head in acknowledgment. The king turned his back on her and took his leave. As he walked away, the blonde finally turned her head to watch him. He walked with an air of superiority through the crowd as they opened a path for him. Two servants she recognized as being named Elizabeth and Kaitlin walked up to her, both women were brunettes. They were both slender, Elizabeth slightly taller than Kaitlin. The princess noticed that they held looks of fear as they took in the sight of the blonde. Their eyes flickered in what appeared to be worry for a moment. Perhaps even sadness.
Was it concern? It couldn't be for me.Emma thought.
No, it must have been fear of the sight of the blonde that stood before them. As the princess always believed it was fear of her. Emma knew the servants were there to escort her to the castle as they always did after her fights in the arena. So she mustered all the strength she could and moved in the direction Leopold took to head towards the castle. The ladies trailed behind her. They respectfully kept their distance as they continued moving in pace with the blonde.
It took them an hour to reach the top of the castle steps from the pit. It was at the edge of the village just outside of the castle walls. As the blonde walked through the halls of the castle, her prison, the coldness from within seeped into her skin. One could say that it stemmed from the atmosphere of the stone corridors, a familiar atmosphere of what the princess believed her life would forever be; cold, dark and contained. Much like a caged animal that was only allowed to leave when they had permission to, she felt as if she were in a never-ending abyss of hatred and savagery. Too many men and women died at her hands ever since her first kill in the throne room at seven years old.
The memory of the man's body falling to his knees as a dagger was plunged into his stomach by her small hands as a child, ran through the princess's mind. The memory of that very man whispering words she couldn't hear due to her shock.
The servants guided her to a large wooden door; heat radiated from it and it sent a slight shiver of pleasure down Emma's spine. The feeling of the heat that waited for her pulled her out of her thoughts. The doors to the wash room opened and the smell of roses filled her nostrils instead of the smell of copper. The smell instantly sent calm waves into her senses and her muscles relaxed slightly.
It was a big room; there was a fireplace to the far left and the air felt damp from the steam that rose from the hot water in the large bathtub in the middle of the room. There were flower petals of different types and foliage everywhere in the room. Lit candles were spread throughout the room to give it a warm glow and they were strategically placed so that the flames appeared to float in the air. To the right of the room there was a table and she saw a fresh set of clothing folded on it. Next to the clothing were cloth strips meant to assist with tending to Emma's wounds she assumed. The room before the princess would have almost seemed magical to the blonde, if only she didn't remember she was in the White Castle.
Elizabeth and Kaitlin bowed to Emma as she finally stepped into the room. They did not dare to make eye contact with the blonde. They avoided her gaze as much as they could because the princess believed that the women thought she would bring them harm, even after all of these years. That she would take their life away just because they had the strength to look into her deep green eyes. Or possibly they couldn't allow themselves to look into the tortured woman's soul. The blonde didn't blame them, really. For whom would ever want to lose their life by a person that was capable of great violence.
Both servants moved towards the blonde to assist her with removing her clothing for her bath and Emma shook her head slightly. She didn't want them to see the extent of her wounds because she wanted to protect them from the horrors of her body's current state.
"Leave me," she spoke coldly.
Both women jumped at the unexpected voice coming from the blonde. Instead of continuing to stay in the room they bowed in respect and took their leave. The door closed behind them.
When the room was clear of anyone other than the princess, she finally let her guard down. Her body slightly crumbled lower as she felt all of the pain course through her. Her body hurt everywhere. The bloody rags that covered her body stuck to her skin and it became even more apparent to the blonde how unclean she really was. She lifted her hands to the hem of her tunic and lifted it above her head. She winced and hissed as the cuts were strained and moved as the tunic was lifted. The forming scabs ripped because the blood was stuck to the tunic's fabric.
The deep cut on her left side was still a little wet because the wound hadn't fully closed yet to stop the bleeding completely. She threw the garment to the side then worked her pants off of her. Next she removed her undergarments and breast wrap.
She took a moment to really assess the damage on her skin. The assortment of various sized cuts covered parts of her torso. There was a long deep cut that ran down her left side at the ribs down to her hip. It appeared that the cut was more shallow from her hip down to her knee.
Weak, I am weak, she thought to herself over and over again.
The new marks and old scars on her body proved as such. The scars that littered her like a ripped painting were held as a reminder of her failed attempts at protecting herself. She allowed the pain to finally show on her face again, the sadness in her eyes all the more visible because no one could see it.
She limped forward past her discarded clothing towards the tub. She felt a large need to get rid of the blood and grime off of her body because of the shame she felt. The blonde stepped into the tub and was instantly relieved as the intense heat covered the skin of her feet and legs. She sat down into the tub and felt the rose petals floating in the water when they brushed gently over her body.
For over an hour she scrubbed her skin red to wash away the memories of the deaths she caused that day. The deaths of the ten men that had to try to kill the child that clutched onto her clothing as she fought to protect him. After all, it was her fault the child was sentenced to death to begin with. She shouldn't have helped the boy to his feet when he fell down in the village market in front of the king. She should have remembered the king's lessons, that anything she touched in front of him was going to die.
A life for a life.
Were the terms, as they always were. Instead of the ten men gaining freedom of their own misdeeds by killing the child they all fell into the sand, lifeless only by Emma's hands.
She had flashes of their pained expressions appear before her eyes and she tried to shake it away. The blonde maneuvered her body lower so that she became fully submerged. She wanted to have all sound removed from her senses, she wanted it all gone.
As she was submerged, her ears filled with muffled sounds of her movements, but she imagined she was somewhere else.
Dense trees appeared in her vision as she tried to think of the feel of grass and the smell of forest. She imagined a clearing with a small stream that ran through the area and a large majestic weeping willow tree near it. Emma imagined walking to the trunk and sliding her body down to sit beneath the green tendrils of the tree and looked beyond to the stream. A flash of golden brown eyes appeared before her, they were the most beautiful eyes she ever got to see. Even though they were only from her dreams as far back as she could remember. The figure backed away from her and revealed a breathtaking woman in front of her. Her long dark hair flowed below the woman's shoulders, her lips were shaded a deep red. The brunette's upper lip had a small scar that complemented her, it didn't take away from the warmth in her smile that the princess imagined being flashed towards her.
Emma, a sultry voice called out in her mind.
The blonde knew she was out of oxygen and had to leave her escape from reality. She lifted herself out of the water and opened her eyes. She was back in the wash room. She looked down into the water and only saw her reflection within the bloody filled oasis and saw that she was obviously tired and beaten. There was a long cut that ran down from the top of the right side of her forehead to the top of her nose. There was also a scar from a fight in the arena a few months ago that ran from her left ear down her jaw line and to the front of her chin. Emma could no longer stand the sight before her so she slowly got up out of the water. She felt more clean than when she arrived in the room but her muscles still strained as she moved. Bloody droplets dripped back into the tub as she stood.
As the blonde got out of the tub she walked over to the table where her clothes and bandages were. Emma had to be mindful of which cuts needed to be covered first because she wasn't given very many cloth strips to cover the damages. She might bleed into her clean clothes overnight. She decided that she had to take care of the long gash on her side. The blonde hissed in pain as she wrapped her torso up as much as she could. The cloth was not the best material, it felt like it was made out of a scratchy cloth that would hold various vegetables in the kitchens. The blonde hoped that the bleeding would fully stop at the applied pressure at least, even though the material felt uncomfortable. After she was done applying the cloth to her body she only had one left and decided that the cut on her arm needed better pressure as well.
When she was fully bandaged and dressed in a fresh tunic and leather pants, Emma steeled her features, took a deep breath and opened the doors to the washroom to take her leave to her chambers. However, she was stopped by four guards that were waiting just outside in the corridor. All of them had a look of sadness in their eyes as they looked at the princess before them. Emma knew what that look meant. The guards were ordered to take her to the dungeons for the evening. No words had to be exchanged between herself and the men that stood before her. It wasn't a rare occurrence that she was sent to sleep in a cell after one of her fights in the pit.
Emma nodded her head and walked forward and past the men without showing the condition her body was feeling. They all trekked forward in the familiar route as they took corridor after corridor, stair after stair, step after step. Their path was only lit by torches down the winding staircases. When they reached the deepest part of the castle where the dungeons were, the smell of moisture and rusting iron filled their nostrils. Down the hall of multiples cells, the men reached an open door; Emma's personal cell. The small windowless room was lit by two torches. Chains were hung against the wall, long enough for the person chained to them to be able to walk around. There was no comfort of a bed available, only the stone floor. Ever fitting for the animal the princess believed she was. In her mind, she wasn't royalty at all.
The blonde walked forward into the prison cell and turned around towards the door, she didn't allow any emotion to show while within the inside of her mind she believed she was getting what she deserved. The four guards entered the chamber with her, two guards walked behind her to gather the chains while the other two stood to either side of her. The sound of the metal rattling echoed against the walls.
"We have to lift your arms, Your Grace," one of the guards whispered gently, his voice wavered.
Emma looked over to the guard that spoke and made eye contact with him. If the princess didn't know any better she could have swore there were tears in the man's eyes that wouldn't drop.
He must be afraid, she thought.
The blonde nodded her head and the guards gently grabbed her arms to lift them up. The guards that had the chains cuffed a pair to her ankles and then her wrists. The guards backed away when the task was done and bowed deeply to the princess before three out of the four guards exited the room. The one that stayed behind was the guard that spoke to her before. Emma stared at the man until he spoke.
"T-the boy. H-He's my son." The guard finally let the tears fall from his eyes.
It dawned on the princess that he was referring to the boy that was with her in the pit. The child that was sent to die because of her. Guilt filled her chest as she looked at the man.
"I'm sorry..." Emma whispered.
The guard shook his head and pulled a small bag the size of a fist out of his armor. He walked closer to Emma and placed it in her hand before he turned and walked out of the chamber. He closed the chamber door behind him and bolted it from the outside.
When the princess opened the bag there was a poultice inside of it from what she could smell. She couldn't help the guilt that continued to grow inside of her chest.
I am weak, they saw my pain, she kept telling herself over and over in her head.
The blonde dropped to the floor and her chains scraped harshly against her skin as she fell. Her exhaustion took over her features once again since she was alone. She didn't have anything else in the room to distract her as her mind wandered to all of the faces of the people she killed. The screams rang inside of her head as tears fell from her eyes as soon as the torches burnt out. She was left in complete darkness, so her mind made sure she remembered every last detail of every person slain by her hands. A darkness within her that she could not escape while awake.
For hours she tried to find a comfortable position on the stone floor in the dark. Each horrible memory she tried to replace with golden brown eyes that crinkled when the woman from her dreams smiled. She laid flat on her back with her arms by her sides. Each spill of blood that hit her skin within her memories she tried to replace with warm gentle rain that spilled in the forest as the brunette held her hand. The only solace Emma could find in her life were the dreams she had of a woman she didn't know but longed to believe was real. As slumber took hold of her, she could feel a warm embrace surround her body and the gentle whispers of a forest calling her name.
She only had one purpose in this life; to kill. She never knew the love of a father, or the love of a mother. Both of them were lost to her the day she was born. She never knew the love of a friend or a partner; because in the end, who could ever love, such a beast.
