𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓𝔂'𝖘 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝔂; Riven

*13*

If it wasn't for the contradiction of the fire's unpredictable volatility with the propensity for inexplicable raging outbursts, to the unceasing serenity of Eraklyon's brilliant blue sky, where summer is a never-ending phenomenon, peace written into the heavens, perhaps this ride would've been a pleasant one for the both of us. But where prince Sky's nature was of composure, patience and a desperate need of understanding, I was forged of the deadliest inferno known to the Universe, flames known to men as Hell's burning fire - and when the tiny spark I had hidden deep within finally emerged and lit up, no living could've known the many ways this would change me.

The princess of Eraklyon was known for her diligence, poise, her intelligence and most of all, her dedication. The world saw her sickeningly perfect scores - her hard work. It was well known, that the princess never scored under perfection, it was in her nature to thrive over expectations. The perfect daughter. She was, clever, but mostly lucky to be taken in by the gracious king of Eraklyon, a man with a heart as large as his kingdom. Ruling over the land of peace, of compassion and beauty with waters clearer than sapphire, a sky brighter than diamond - but most of all the people, known for their caring and their kindness. Eraklyon was, indeed, a kingdom worthy of pride. It was the home of unmatched diversity, under its cloudless skies, lived many creatures. Where the byakko heals the wounded, the hupia guides the lost, the monoceros bless the worthy and where the alan adopts the orphan, Eraklyon appears to be a kingdom where happiness is found for all. But looks are deceiving, for dare to look closer, and one would see the devil ruling over the gold-hearted. A deadly venom of pride and selfishness spreads like wildfire, rotting down the colourful petals in Eraklyons heavenly-garden, toxicity wasting away its sapphire waters, blackening the seas - tyranny is a cruel poison. With hands of steel, a throne of flesh and blood, and crown of rough gold but the mind of a starved lion, king Erendor destroys like a raging storm under the Eraklyan cloudless skies. The only thing stronger than its destructive hurricanes is the neighbouring sun, its hot rays a drug for his poor soul.

For Erendor, Samara was that addicting substance, he infused her like cocaine, her every move like dopamine in his miserable life. An inspiring vision of peace and beauty, Samara was everything he dared to dream for, and more. The youngest daughter of king Traic and queen Lissandra was truly regal. Her golden hair shined like no others, her poise was unmatched. Not only was she appealing, even to the high standards of king Dorian, who expected the very best for his son, and his kingdom, but she was also kind and generous. The people looked up to her. The pairing was perfect, a marriage all the kingdoms had to witness. A union, with the promise of prosperity and peace between two legendary kingdoms. The sky and the sun, finally united. The celebration lasted for months. Erendor could not believe his luck, how could a man like him, have deserved such perfection? No, it was unreal, a mere dream.

On their wedding night, when they were sent into a bedchamber with silk sheets and velvet curtains, with rose-petals colouring the floor like spilled wine, they were locked in to share a single bed. A bed fit for a king, a queen, and one day a little prince. But how could a man like Erendor allow himself to touch such beauty? That night, no words were exchanged. They slept restlessly, backs towards each other. This continued for weeks - perhaps even months. But they were mortals, foolish selfish mortals. She was sanctity birthed out of silk and honey, she was the sun, savoured by the universe to cover the realm with flowers. She was divine. While he was a king, who wielded a crown made of venom, he ruled over the realm like salt, allowing nothing to grow. But the world is destructive, selfishness is cruelly effortless. Where life falls in love with death, angels had been smitten with devils, in a world where sea meets the sky, it's almost parasitic, how defiance creep over the matter of difference. Samara was no quitter, she defied the devil whispering cruel things in her mind, you're not good enough, he doesn't want you, tragically ignored the danger of feelings, and crawled into his bed.