Royal Pain ~ Slave to the High Royals

Chapter One

Watching the people march systematically behind one another was ominous. Much like watching soldiers march to war, I assume. Each and every one of them knew their destination may be death, but they still walked on. Though, maybe not with the same motivation they would have if they were going to battle. No, they marched out of fear.

The single-file line flowed continuously to the right of where I stood in my bedroom, as people knowingly walked closer to their imminent doom.

I knew I would soon be joining them.

My heart raced at an abnormal speed as I watched more and more people join the growing line and rhythmic march. Rose, a girl I previously knew from school, exited her home from across the street and solidified the fact that people of my own age had to face this reality. At only sixteen, we were to be stone-faced and mature, ready to fight a losing battle.

We had been prepared for this moment by our parents, who had already experienced this nightmare that was only just beginning for us. Show no emotion, no fear, no weakness.

That would only make the scene more pleasurable for them.

My mother herself had worked as a slave for the years we were all required to partake in the laborious work. She had never spoken to me about specific experiences, probably considering them to be too disturbing to disclose to a young child. I suppose no parent wants to imagine their child facing the same torture as they once had, slaving away for these wretched beings.

I jolted as I felt my mother's arms hug me from behind. My muscles only tensed for a moment before I relaxed into her comforting and familiar embrace.

''Remember to be strong, Violet.'' Her soft tone did little to soothe me as she began to rhythmically rub small circles into my back, trying to calm my obvious nerves.

I didn't react, too absorbed in watching the scene that had begun to unfold below.

A young boy, fifteen at most, broke the order of the line. He suddenly turned and made a dash backwards, his legs pumping fiercely as he sped past the people gathered around him.

He made it maybe 10 yards down the crowded street before he came to an abrupt halt.

A well-built man with dark hair appeared before him, harshly grabbing onto the boys forearms before throwing him to the floor with ease. The boy skidded a few feet, and then stopped a short distance away from the man that was now towering over him. I spotted flecks of blood dotted up his legs from where the rough gravel had grazed him and broken the skin. He quickly looked up, his mouth open as if to scream and sorrow shown from his damp cheeks.

The expression on the Punisher's face was the complete opposite.

His eyes were lit up with pleasure, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He slowly made his way towards the boy, taking his time to prolong the entertainment factor of torturing us 'cattle'. The man reached down towards the boy, who still lay sprawled out on the road, and wrapped his long, pale fingers around his neck.

I knew what was coming, everyone did. And yet, nobody intervened.

My mother saved me from having to watch the sickening end of the young boy's life by tugging me around to face her instead. However, I knew what had happened; it was confirmed by a sickening wail that shattered the silence that had descended. The scarring sound followed by another gut-wrenching shriek.

Probably the mother.

Letting out a breath I hadn't known to be holding, I steeled myself. There was no justifying the Punisher's actions, but all I could do was release the anger from my system. Let all of the emotions sizzle away. There was absolutely no reason to make a scene; I would only end up the same as that poor, young boy.