Slaying the Blood King

♤•Chapter 2•♤

I soaked in the tub for what felt like forever, letting the hot water cool against my skin. Angela had left me to be alone. Her presence lingering too long could threaten her life. My father didn't take well to me mingling with the servants.

I rise out of the bloodied water, grasping ahold of the gold towel left to me. Reaching in, I grasp ahold of the plug that holds the water in, and pull. I watch warily as the remnants of the girls blood filters down the drain, until there is nothing left but beadlets of water. Drying off, I walk down the small steps down to where my bed resides. I take in the white walls, and the dark, cold flooring. A fire crackles in the hearth, bringing only an ounce of warmth into this massive space I call my room.

My eyes drift over to my bed. Dark mahogany accents it's four post frame. I look to my black duvet set, complete with red trim, accentuating it in a manor that makes me feel calm. Despite the darkness in my life, I've always been drawn to the dark-the way the moon cascades it's light. The way the darkness brings me a sense of ease. I could hide in the dark away from the monster I call a father. It's my only escape.

I shiver gently as the drafty room engulfs my bare body. I hurry over to my chest of clothing, pulling out a dark blue night gown. I slip it's silky texture over my body, letting my body heat the fabric. Trekking over to my bed, I slip underneath the soft duvet covers. As I try to sleep, my mind is haunted once more by her, the girl I could not save. Instead of pain, I imagine her dancing in the lawn, picking up daisies, giggling. My mind places her in happiness, far from the fate the bestowed her now.

With the wariness of today, I drift off, letting my mind sink into unconsciousness.

You should have saved her. The whisper echoes in my mind. I open my eyes, finding myself in a familiar place. The woods with shimmering Ignis Fatuus. One draws near, giving me a hurt look. You should have stopped him, her whispery voice echoes in my mind. Tears sting my eyes.

"I-I tried, I'm not strong enough," I say to her, pain wavering my voice. She shakes her little Cherub-like face. You could have, if you had found us sooner. I shake my head, anger rising in my voice.

"I don't even know who you are! You are just a dream!" I scream at her, but as the words fall from my lips, I get the sinking feeling I always do, that there is more to this than just a dream.

The Ignis slits her eyes, looking at me with annoyance. Keep telling yourself that, she says, before joining the others and flitting away.

I wake up with a start, feeling the sun stream into the window by my bed. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the light. It's a new day, and I need decide how to approach my dream. I knew I needed to escape this place, but under my fathers supervision, that was easier said than done.

I rise, feeling the chill in the room. The fire had long dispersed from the hearth, making the room drafty. I wrap my arms around myself as I cross over to my vanity.

I look at myself in the broken mirror, seeing that the bruise had darkened to almost black since the altercation yesterday. It was hard to find myself beautiful with all these bruises. When I was younger, I had always imagined that my knight in shining armor would come to save me. Looking at myself now, I don't think I'd ever have a chance. He would be out of the door as soon as he saw me. Anyhow, I'm a strong woman. I didn't need a man to save me. I'd have to save myself.

I sit down at the plush surface of the stool in front of the dark vanity. Grabbing my brush, I brush through the silvery blonde hair that had knotted from a fitful night's rest. Every so often, I wince as I brush over the location where my father likes to yank on my hair. My heart aches. I really wish I had a father who loved me.

After clearing my thoughts and applying a small amount of make-up, I rise and cross over the threshold to my waredrobe. Selecting a small, black dress with blue trim, I change quickly, before exiting the only place that I felt safe from my father.

As a Princess, there wasn't much I could do, so I spent most of my time reading in the library. My father-despite his evilness, had made sure I knew how to read. I guess he didn't want to leave this life with someone stupid. I walk down the long corridors until I finally reach the doors to the library. Raising my fist to knock, I stop when voices inside alert me. A loud, harsh voice echoes through and I know my father is in there.

I want to back away, but then something catches my attention-a voice I don't recognize. Pressing my ear to the door, I listen in on the conversation, knowing that if I am caught, I will inevitably meet an end.

"-top feeding me a line of shite Kano. The Fey have been gone from these lands for decades. You're telling me that they are back?" My father's voice pierces in anguish.

"Yes, your highness, and we fear that they might be a nuisance," the man says. My mind starts wandering. How can the Fey be here? I wonder in my mind. The Fey-folk had been merely a legend, told around campfires of their existence long ago. If this is true, then my dream-

I step away from the door quickly when I realize the voices had stopped and footsteps approached. I turn to walk away when the squeal of the door hinges stops me.

"Lunar, what are you doing poking around?" my father questions me. Annoyance crosses his features, and I know if I don't say something soon, I will be lying on the ground. Straightening my stance and raising my chin, I address my father.

"I was simply strolling by, father." His eyes slit quickly, and before I know it, I am on the floor holding my face.

"Liar!" he spits. Tears sting my eyes from the pain of his hit, causing him to get angrier. "Oh, so you think you have a reason to cry? Let me give you a real one!"

Knowing what he is about to do, I curl up defensively right as he swings his foot into my back. I cry out in pain as he kicks me again and again. I watch the man who my father had talked to slink away, not wanting to look at the beating. Coward, I think inwardly as another blow lands on my lower back. Closing my eyes, I remain curled until he's had his fun. With a spit in my direction, he finally walks away, leaving me crumpled and bloodied on the floor.

I try to stand, but pain shoots up from my back. At least my spine is intact I think as I find I can feel my body. Trying once more, I roll toward the wall until I can grab ahold of the trim. I'm just about there when I hear someone around the corner. "My dear, Lunar!" a servant says in a hushed voice as she hurries over to me. When I see her face I recognize her as Matilda, our high servant, the one who is more direct with my father. She is also Angela's mother. "Oh dear," she says, fighting back tears as she tries to help me into an upright position.

"I-I'll be fine, Matilda. J-just get the physician." She nods quickly before darting away to find him. I try to stand once more, but I am far too sore to move. Dizziness takes over as I start fighting myself in and out of consciousness.

Why? I think to myself. Why does this always happen. I think back to what the Ignis had said, that I would be stronger with them, and if what I overheard was true, then can that Ignis be real?

Pain shoots up through my back once more, this time stronger as I move my shoulder blade. I groan in agony, and as hard as I fight, I lose my battle to unconsciousness.

♤•●•♤•●•♤

I wake to the bitter cold of darkness. Scanning my surroundings, I find I'm in my room. I try to get up but find that my arm is constricted with a large bandage, not allowing much room for movement. I try again but find it is no use when the now dull-pain shoots across my back. Instead, I lie back down. A tear slips from my eye as I think about what my father did to me. No matter what I do, I always seem to end the day with his brutal blows. I don't understand why he hasn't killed me yet.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear a shuffle in my room. It was ever-so-slight, but I heard it.

"Who's there?" I call out, hoping that it may be the physician, but something in my mind tells me that everything is off. I am just about to call out again when a hand clamps my mouth shut. I try to kick and struggle against the mysterious person, but the more I do, the more I am pushed into the bed. Tears slip from my eyes as I think of my father sending someone in to assassinate me.

In moments, there is more movement and the rest of my body is clamped by two more people. One wraps something beneath my legs, and when I feel then constrict together, I realize it is rope. Another bounds my arms to my sides. Then, a thick piece of cloth is pushed against my nose. When I inhale, I smell the sharp scent of Sleep Root, a root that grows that is good for sending you to the world of the unconscious. I struggle to hold my breath, holding until my lungs burned. I already could feel myself slipping. Having no choice, I gasp, taking in breathfuls of the Sleep Root, and as my eyes flutter shut and my body eases, I hear them. There is a woman and two men, but they aren't speaking the same language. In fact, I feel disbelief as I slip into the depths of my mind.

They are speaking Elvish.