His Dark Majesty

Haunted by Demons

She sat on the four-poster bed of the wide room. Its walls, a flaming red in color as if painted by blood itself. The room was empty save for the bed and long shadows formed on the wall making it look more haunted than it already was.

She sat there, doomed and afraid. Tears streaming down her face. Her sobs and sniffles cleaving the haunted silence. Just then, the door to the room opened. A man came in. At Least it was a figure of a man.

A silhouette. She couldn't see his face through the gloomy darkness of the room. He came closer and the sunlight streaming from the window fell on his face.

She screeched and scrambled back on the bed.

The man, at least what looked like a man, trudged towards the bed with a zombie-like jerk. His face was skeleton-like, the leathery skin was like a reptile's, stretched over the bones. The eyes were pits of fire with red flames flickering inside them. There were two slits where the nose should be. The lips were tightly stretched over teeths , rotted black and sharp like a snake's. His hands , which were covered in a fine shirt, were also bone thin, the fingers ended in black talons, so sharp that it could tear skin and bone with one swipe.

He halted near the bed, looking at her with flaming eyes, his teeth opened and slithering tongue came out, he ran it over his barely-there-lips, as if already tasting her.

She shook with fear and revulsion. Hot tears bubbling out of her eyes like a waterfall. She found that she couldn't speak. Tried to say something but only a screeching sound came out. Her eyes widened further in fear. She looked about the room for an escape but she knew she couldn't escape this fate. What was written for her.

He now sat on the bed, reaching his hand out to her. His snake-like tongue running over his lips in l**t. The flames in his eyes flickered brighter.

His talons caressed her right cheek, shredding the skin there, "My beautiful bride", he hissed. His voice sends a sensation of a million insects running down her body.

Blood poured out of her shredded cheek and she watched in horror as his hand reached the front of her bodice. Talons ready to shred it apart.

And she screamed. The sound brimming with terror, despair and hate for her life, fate and the people who wrote it.

She gasped and shot forward from her lying position. Her breathing ragged. She heaved down great gulps of air, trying to force her lungs , which had stopped working in terror, to work again.

She touched her right cheek with a trembling hand, and a sob escaped her mouth when she found it intact and smooth as ever.

Cold sweat was sitting on her forehead like beads. Hairs were sticking to her neck. The thin material of her nightgown clinged to her skin. She flung the comforter aside and eased down from the bed on shaking legs. The dream still caused tremors to run down her body.

She stumbled towards the large bay windows and flung them wide open, letting the chilly breeze inside. It calmed her remarkably. The cold night air running across the bare skin of her milky arms and shoulders.

She stared across the star strewn sky, her copper curls fluttering behind her from the chill winds.

She traced the less-bright stars of Ophiuchus's constellation with her eyes. The God of medicines. Maybe, he could've cured her if he wasn't dead himself.

If only mum was alive, she thought, all this wouldn't be so hard then.

Tears brimmed in her copper flecked green eyes. One tear left the border of lashes and fell down her cheek. She stood there for long moments, gazing at the sky and thinking about her life.

Dawn has just broken the horizon, scattering pink, purple and turquoise hues across the sky. The town was slowly waking up. Starting with the roosters. There was no chance of sleeping again so she closed the windows again and turned towards the dressing room to get changed for the day.

She entered their fairly spacious, stone kitchen in her rough homespun beige gown and got to work.

She was putting the pot on the fireplace for the brew to cook, when her little brother, Leraz, entered the kitchen, still in his night dress, rubbing his eyes with his small fists. His mop of wild copper ringlets were wild on his little head.

He came to sit in the chair near her. She smiled at him and messed his hairs further and he returned a gap-toothed grin. He was like a cat, loved to be coddled and patted.

"Hello, Annaleigh", he chirped, "how are you on this fine morning?” he asked with a mischievous tilt in his voice.

He has been trying to behave like a fine gentleman ever since his sisters told him that young ladies loved gentlemen.

For once, the dream flashed before her eyes but she shoved it aside and beamed at Leraz,

“Why yes, my little pet, I am extremely wonderful this evening", she put some brew in his cup and a loaf of bread in his plate. He immediately started picking at it.

She bustled about the kitchen, preparing their morning tea, cutting the cheese and ham to prepare her father's lunch-tin.

Shortly after, her sister, Pearlie, entered the kitchen room, as immaculate as ever in her yellow day dress with her black hairs done in a neat plait and rosy cheeks. She loved to dress-up and attract as many young lads as she could.

And she actually could.

Unlike her.

Who was stuck in a repulsive betrothal .

She plopped down in her seat.

"Pearlie dear, serve them to father, will you?", Annaleigh said , as she placed the wood tray on the table in front of her sister. It had a cup of brew, a cup of steaming morning tea and a large chunk of bread. A tin box was also placed in the corner of the tray which their father would take to the farms with him.

Pearlie rolled her eyes and grumbled," I certainly do not understand it. He can eat the food you make but can't bear to look at you ", she snatched up the tray and stormed towards the stairs that led to their Father's room.

Her father has avoided her, as long as she could remember. She had made her peace with the fact but Pearlie still simmers at it.

Now, she just shook her head and smiled at young Leraz, who was staring at her with wide hazel eyes.

“What are you up to today, chap?", she asked him as she sat down to eat. Pearlie has joined them again too.

"I will be painting in my room, Annaleigh", he said in his sweet, soft voice.

She smiled at him encouragingly.

Then she turned towards her sister,

"And what about you?", she said while taking a sip from her tea.

Pearlie shrugged, " I may go to the square or just take a stroll to the greenhouse and see how the plants are faring and help Augustus a little",

Color flooded her cheeks when she said his name.

Annaleigh gave her sister an impish grin and she blushed to the roots of her hairs.

"Well then, I will be going to the herb house to help out Grace till evening, you can have the tomorrow's rabbit pie for lunch", she addressed Leraz, who nodded his head obediently, then , " and Cissie would be here shortly to clean up, do make sure to hand her the laundry", she addressed this to Pearlie, who also nodded.

Annaleigh has been a mother figure ever since their own died six years ago. Annaleigh has managed the household and her siblings even though she was so young herself.

Both of them listened to her and obeyed her. Even though Pearlie was just two years younger, Annaleigh was far more mature then the girls her age.

The three of them finished their food. Leraz and Pearlie scampered off to their routines while she washed the pots and cup and tidied the place.

She went to her rooms, rebraided her hair and fetched her dark green cloak from the peg in her small dressing room. She went down the stairs and towards the entry hallway, latching the cloak about her, she met Cissie, the maid, who was just starting her work, greeted her and walked towards and out of the brass doors of their house.

Cissie was working for them for years now, when their mother had taken to bed due to her illness, she had started working then. She cooked and cleaned for them even after their mother died. Later on, Annaleigh had taken the cooking job to herself and left the old woman to clean.

Annaleigh pulled on the hood of her cloak and started towards the market square where the herb house was situated. She hummed a merry tune and looked around the people starting their day, the children playing in the yards, women gossiping.

She smiled at the few people she knew and they greeted her in return. There were very few in the village that didn't look at her with pity, fear or revulsion.

She didn't mind though. She knew the story leading to her wasn't very appealing. And the rumors have multiplied tenfold over the years. She has just learned to cope with it.

Soon , she entered the market square and was in front of the herb house. Her favorite place after the town library, where, between the jars of herbs and the hustle of making potions and salves, she could forget her misery. She finds peace in the soothing smells.

She stood before the shop, smiling broadly and entered.