Demons and Destinies: A Story About Fate, and Freedom

The Puppet Princess

Aqulina was suffocating in her many layers, but she looked gorgeous, so she supposed it was alright. She lounged on her throne, her eyes, slitted like a cat, the color of blood, roving across the viper's nest that she called a court. Nobles danced, the cold, purple light from the bejewled chandeliers glinting off the women's pearls and rings, and the men eyed the prettiest ones, offering them dances, while couples sneaked off to the gods knew where.

Her purple hair, faded to black at the tips, was flowing down her shoulders, the hair dye an act of defiance, though she knew she'd have a scar from when her mother had taken her nails and raked them down her cheek for her insolence. Her dress glittered, the onyx in her dress catching the light, drawing every eye in the room. It did nothing to hide her pale, unbleshimed skin, and suggested at a generous bosom.

A man approached her, his hair so oiled it practically blinded her. "My princess," he murmured, stooping into a bow so low she thought she was going to eat the tile floor, and she could barely suppress her smirk as the man averted his eyes, submissive. "May I have this dance?"

She rested her face on her hand, regarding him the way a cat stares at a mouse, and the man began to fidget, Aqulina's red eyes seeming to stare deep inside his soul.

"Of course," she said, a small, fake smile spreading across her lips, and again, every man turned to see the breathtaking beauty of it. She stepped off her throne, her impossibly high-heeled shoes clicking against the tile, and smiled again, a tight, bitter thing. She moved with an easy, feline grace, practically gliding against the tile, and stopped in front of the man, who held out his hand.

She took it, and they began to waltz, whirling around the ballroom, everyone stopping to stare. Aqulina's features were schooled into neutrality the whole entire time. Her court was not loyal or kind, or good in the slightest, and they would take advantage of anything she did. So she waltzed with the man, until another courtesans' walked up and offered her his hand. So she danced with him, and the next, and the next.

Until a quiet descended across the room, and the musicians stared, their music screeching to a halt. Because the most beautiful woman they'd ever seen walked into the room. She smiled, and several men left their dancing, their women staring after them. Her lips were red as blood, and her night-dark hair was swept up in a bun, the rest of it flowing in a pony-tail trailing down almost to her feet. Her eyes glowed like embers, her eyes slitted, Her skin was pale as a ghost, and she wore a barbaric-looking purple dress, and on her fingers, pure-gold claws, and Aqulina knew that they were tipped with poison. Her horns, the same color as her eyes, were curved and sharpened.

She wore high-heels, and fishnet stockings, and everyone stared. She was the most beautiful woman anyone had ever seen, She smiled warmly and several women looked ready to puke. She didn't have a crown. She didn't need one. Everyone knew who she was. She was Queen Delilah. The Queen glided over, and Aqulina dipped a curtsy. "Mother," she said.

They stared at each other, and Delilah had cold rage in her eyes as she beheld her daughter's outfit, but then she broke into a smile, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "Oh, sweetheart, you look lovely!" Delilah rushed forward, hugging her tightly, and the dug her nails into her back, and growled in her ear. "What're you wearing!?" She snarled, her eyes tearing up, supposedly from her daughter's beauty.

Aqulina began to cry, but not from happiness, as the others perceived it, but in pain. "Oh, mother, you say the sweetest things!"

"If you ever wear anything like this again," Delilah growled. "I'll skin you alive and make you wear that as an outfit."

"Thank you, mother!" Aqulina ground out, and then stepped away, feeling wetness slide down her back. Yet another scar. Delilah's eyes flashed, but she laughed. "Now, now, I won't keep all the suitors waiting for me to leave!" She turned, and smiled widely at the courtesans', who had been standing, frozen. "This isn't a staring contest! Now, let's dance!" She grabbed a helpless noble, and began dancing with him, and the noble looked about to faint.