𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢-𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ⟪𝟏⟫ // ❮✓❯

Feeling Is A Weakness // A. Biersack

My slimming black dress suited me perfectly, it hung from my hips and hugged my torso, a slit in the material made its way up my thigh. My low-heeled shoes added only a short amount of height to my figure, not enough to be noticeable.

I stood tall on the balcony attached to the castle walls, it jutted out to give me a clear view of the people, standing below me. My people.

Rebels had declared war upon my crown. They deemed that I was unfit to rule, namely, because of my sex. I held my head high and began speaking to my people loudly, above the shouting and murmuring of their worries.

"We are not interested in the possibility of defeat... Not within the silence of the deserted alley, nor in the clamour of the crowded street. Fear cannot be vanquished... It cannot be destroyed... Fear will rise up again, and control the masses." I spoke proudly with a sharp tone.

"As war fades into the distant memory of enlightened swine and open wounds, the rebels will begin to perish. One by one, they should feel the fear of dying young. Do not ignore the chance to scream... Lie awake at night in terror. Admitting fear will return to glory, and the story of the rebels who set out to conquer this kingdom will finish." I added, glaring down at my people and knowing that rebels walked among them.

"This war ends here, Rebels." I said in a commanding voice before striding away from the edge and elegantly stormed down the steps.

I walked through the stretching gardens that surrounded the castle, I opted to take a walk to keep my mind at bay for some time. I knew my shadows would be following me for my protection, of course, but I only counted five pairs of feet hitting the gravel pathway instead of the usual six.

I chose to ignore it and continued walking, another pair of feet went missing. Four. Odd, but I still walked quickly towards the tall oak doors of the castle.

I knew I was being followed by someone other than my shadows, but I didn't care to see who. They would make themselves known eventually, in due time.

I drew closer to the doors, I heard only two pairs of footsteps on the white gravel, which paved the way from the large cast iron gates to the old castle. I decided that I would accept my fate and stopped in my place.

The other set of steps came closer, until the stopped and another's breath was warm against the back of my neck.

I inhaled deeply and squared my shoulders, staring at the doors less than twenty feet away from where I stood. The person's hand barely graced my right side, where I still bore a deep scar. Left there after the last attempt on my life.

A large male hand slowly slithered around my neck and held me tight against its owner's front side. His fingers squeezed lightly, to scare me, I suppose, but I did not yield a reaction. I was not going to beg for my life, I was not going to be the Queen that begs for her life and dies either way.

If I was to choose between the kingdom's survival and mine, I would give my life for it.

The man brought his face down to my ear and tucked a loose strand behind it, his breath hot against the shell of said body part. I swallowed thickly and prepared for my death to greet me.

"You're not going beg for your life?" A silky, but rough, voice asked into my ear.

"I see no point in doing so. You are to murder me whether I beg or not." I said confidently before my voice faltered.

"That may be true, Princess, but begging makes it more fun." He chuckled darkly.

I rolled my eyes and attempted to turn my head, to at least look my attacker in the eyes before I was killed. His hand wrapped tighter and held my head firmly forwards.

"If I am to die, at least allow me to see your face as I do so." I ordered quietly as his grip loosened slightly. He grunted in response and allowed me the space to move.

I turned my body to face him and looked up into his face. A pair of piercing baby blues stared into my molten browns. He was not an ugly man, this man was anything but.

His facial structure looked as though it was carved from the finest stone. His eyebrows were sharp and shaped, his cheekbones high, accentuating his jawline that could have sliced through fresh blades of grass. He bore pink and puffy lips, skin pale as cream, and jet black hair that was slicked back and finely cut at the sides. Tattoos crept their way up his arms and reappeared on each side of his neck with a small Latin word in the centre.

"Happy now?" He asked sharply, rewrapping his fingers around my neck.

"Of course not, I am to die." I stated plainly. I pressed on a specific point on his wrist and he hastily removed his hand from my neck.

"What the fuck was that?" He hissed, clutching his wrist.

"A weak point," I informed him before leaning into his hood, "I am not a helpless child, I am the reigning Queen."

I proudly turned and pushed open the doors to my castle, hurriedly making my way up the grand staircase and to my chambers. I quickly reached the large mahogany doors and slipped inside, unnoticed by my servants. I knew he was inside, but I displayed no signs of weakness to the stranger.

"I don't think we're finished, Majesty." He spat and spun me to look at him, slamming the rear of my head against my chambers' doors.

"Get. it. over. with," I demanded slowly, then pushing out of his hold and walking to my bedroom.

His heavy footfalls followed me and gripped my neck from behind again, pulling my back side taught against his front side again. He began peppering kisses along the joint between my shoulder and neck, slowly moving upward.

I tipped my head back in pleasure and closed my eyes. He grinned against my skin and spun my body once again, turning us chest to chest. I stared into his icy eyes, which glared right back at me.

He dragged his large hands up my thighs and over the curve of my hips, resting them lightly on my waist. I barely grazed my hands up his chest to place them gently on his tattooed neck. His eyes bore into mine, want dancing in them. My cursed mouth asked what I had been dying to know, before my mind had been given the chance to catch up.

"What is your name?" I asked quietly, silently cursing myself for my curiosity.

"Andrew." He spoke carefully, his voice soft like velvet.

I nodded before he captured my lips in his kiss. It was so wrong, yet it was so intoxicating. Like honeysuckle poison. His hands tightened on my waist, his thumbs rubbing small circles in the places that made my knees weak. My fingers slowly moved up, into his short hair, and scratched lightly at his scalp.

I pulled away and gazed into his eyes again before he spoke the words I wished most.

"Come with me," He told me desperately, "Fake your death and come with me to the neighbouring kingdom."

"I cannot. I am truly sorry," I said softly, my words holding a second meaning that he picked up on.

"For what?" He asked critically with a creased brow.

"For this." I whispered.

I closed my eyes and let a single tear slip away from my eye before the doors burst open, shards of the wood being sent flying across the polished black and golden marble floor. I felt Andrew's embrace weaken and I opened my eyes. I watched as Andrew fell limply to the ground, an arrow protruding from the centre of his chest.

I dropped my head and slowly knelt down beside him as he gasped for air to fill his lungs. I looked up at Andrew as his head fell back and I was about to be dragged away by soldiers. I gripped his cloak and held tightly to him and hovered my face above his.

"Why?" He huffed with all the energy he could muster, his beautiful water coloured eyes searched my whiskey orbs for an answer.

"Because feeling is a weakness," I told him as my last tear fell onto his cheek.

His eyes began to gloss over, showing he was on the brink of death. I kissed him gently one more time before his soul left his body and he fell limp against my grip.

{Band: BVB (Lead Vocalist)}