Evening Tales: Dark Academia Short Stories

The Princess and the Poison

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I frantically flipped through the pages of the book on the table before me. 

Somewhere, it had to be somewhere. 

I winced as yet another thin cut sliced my fingertips. I was pouring over piles of history as I sat in the ancient library built by my forbearers many centuries ago. The walls were carved from stone and adorned with ancient oaken beams and columns. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the domed library, carved so delicately into the side of the mountain. 

One large window far to my left allowed some light from the moon to stretch toward me, and the rain could be heard from the outside. Dim, flicking candlelight lit the books sprawled around me, my gown in a messy heap spread about.  

I tapped my fingers as I read the words before me. 

Duchesses, dukes, lords, ladies, knights, kings. 

"Mother, where could you be?" I whispered. 

I had lost my mother a few years back. She was taken in the night due to a mysterious illness. Only, recently I had had my doubts about the actual cause of her death. My father, a cruel tyrant now sat the throne throwing our world into chaos. My mother left this world to me. It was mine to rule, not his.

A creak from behind me sent me gasping and slamming the book in front of me shut, resulting in a loud bang. I whirled, scanning the darkness just outside of the candle's perimeter of light. A large, familiar figure stepped forward seemingly molded from the shadows themselves. 

"Your father will be disappointed to hear of this, my lady." The deep voice said. 

"Dimitri," I greeted the man, whose features now danced in the candlelight. He was beautiful in a rugged way. His features were sharp and demanding, his eyes a deep desiring brown. His tanned skin went well with his raven black hair that hung over his forehead in soft curls. Despite his attractiveness, he was the last person I should have ever wanted. Despite him only being a year or two older than me, he was the right hand to my father. Potentially, a tyrant like him as well.

"What is it you are looking for, Princess?" He asked. 

"Studying- just studying." I smiled, my most innocent smile I was usually forced to dawn at parties and gatherings of diplomats. Ever the young and innocent little princess. 

A low, raspy chuckle escaped his throat "Really? That was what you were doing?" He studied me, his brown eyes searching. 

"And what is it you were doing? Creeping in the dark, spying on the princess?" I countered. 

An amused smile spread across his face. 

"One as fascinating as you," he took a step closer and I backed into the table, "must be watched at all times." 

"Don't you have some praises to sing to my father?" I hissed. His features contorted into what could have been pain. 

"Yes, yes I suppose so." He said, barely a murmur. "However, my princess, you are not supposed to be in here." 

My blood froze. He had remembered. My father had forbade me from any and every library and archive in the kingdom since my curiosity about my mother's death had arisen. He claimed it was "making me sick" and that I was just bent with grief. But really, I had simply learned to fear my father and to trust what he did not.