shackled

chapter two - ethora's perspective

On that night, it all happened so fast. So smooth, so quick, so surprisingly... easy. It's not the act of murder itself that takes such a toll on the being, it's the guilt that comes with it - dragging like an anchor to a ship, sinking, sinking, sinking, down, down, down. In spite of the adrenaline, I recall it easily: the discreet entry, the eye contact, the single, elegant slit right across her throat. The handcuffs. The sirens. The body bag. The crimson stains on the carpet. But for some reason, the guilt that comes with a crime as heinous as thing simply wasn't there for me. In my blatant (and mostly right opinion) the Queen deserved to die.

I watch from the window as a swarm of checkered blue and white cars pulled into the driveway, sirens blaring and lights flashing. I toss my weapon to the floor and hear the metallic thud as it grazes across the wooden floor. I see a tall, heavily built figure in the frame of the doorway and I look up.
"Hello Ethora," he smirks, gliding over to me, slowly, gracefully. A click of metal locking. Commando footsteps echo throughout the house and brusque voices reverberate on the thick walls. My eyes move to our new company.  A cluster of bodies adorned with official badges and black vests hold a pistol to my head, despite my hands already being restrained behind my back. "Relax, relax," the King ushers, "She is compliant." He slowly moves to the opposite side of the room, not letting go of my gaze and taking a dominant stance beside the group of officers. In an instant, my biceps are roughly grabbed and I'm pulled out of the room, lower into this maze of a palace. We walked down - I was no longer being dragged - and we approached a desolate staircase. I felt the temperature of the air drop rapidly and shuddered. Bumps rose on my skin like guards, blocking out the cool air; I continued walking further down into the eerie chamber. Roughly, I was shoved into the tiny room, my bare feet on the concrete floor and a crash of the iron doors indicated my captivity. I was trapped. But it was worth it for vengeance.

My thumbs idly intertwine and I curl my toes, a shiver dancing up and down my hunched spine. Contemplating. Was this really a good idea? Will a sip of revenge be worth almost a lifetime in gaol? I feel warmth slide down my left cheek and dismiss it with my hand. Waiting.

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Days passed. Days blurred together. Days slipped away unassumingly. I lost track of the time and hadn't spoken to anyone as long as I was first locked up. The bland meal deliveries that occur 5 times a day left my throat dry and parched; I hadn't spoken to anyone as long as I've been restrained. I can safely assume the court proceedings were taking place in the meantime. I anticipated the verdict, my nails getting shorter and shorter. It was more frequent that blood spilled from my fingertips, the stress, the anxiety, the wait. At this point, I don't care what the judge rules, as long as I am informed of my fate before I drive myself crazy. Today the Gods read my mind and answered my prayers.

Echoing, I heard the heavy footsteps descend down the stairs: left, right, left, right. From what I could infer, there were at least 4 pairs of feet coming to collect me. I made eye contact with one of the 5 (I was wrong) men and a key ring was whipped from one of their pockets. For the first time, I was self conscious of my scruffy appearance, still in the same clothes as I was several days ago and my blonde hair loose from the top knot it was in that night. I almost certainly had running mascara and I don't even WANT to know what my breath smelt like. I noticed that of the 5 figures now in front of me, 4 of them were dressed in black, professional looking attire and one was... wow... my eyes travelled up the smooth navy suit that hugged his absolutely picturesque torso and was adorned with golden badges of all sorts. He wore a loose pair of matching navy trousers that, no matter how much my eyes scoured, could not find a single crease or imperfection. His black shoes were polished finely and a gold banded black hat sat atop his head, a few stray brown, curly locks peeking through playfully. I gazed into his deep brown eyes, analysing the faint red rims and suddenly, I didn't wish my demise was decided now. I wish I could have a little longer with this mystery man. No, not man. Prince. Certainly.

I'd be lying if I said I haven't a clue why I am so intrigued by this man. I haven't had human contact in fuck knows how long, so obviously the first slightly attractive male will catch my attention.
"Ethora," Prince Charming uttered to me, causing my eyes to flicker from his proportionate torso to his cedar-sighted eyes.  "I am Prince Kaian and you murdered my mother." 'Oh my fucking god how did i not put two and two together!!' My mind screams at me blocking out every other sense including the longing in my heart. 'Of fucking course the hot young royal is related to the older royal i just murdered. I'm such a fucking idiot.' Regretfully, I suddenly noticed the similarity in their gorgeous eyes. "With no defence lawyer your verdict was simple. You murdered the Queen, you shall receive the death sentence which will take place in one weeks time." I swear his voice hiccuped at some stage in that delivery. I waited for that sinking feeling of dread. I was going to die in 7 days. Give or take. 'How the fuck am I making this situation funny? Maybe it's because I know I deserve it. I knew she deserved what she got. Maybe it's just all in turn. Or maybe it's because Prince Kaian gave me a look that definitely meant 'I will not let this happen to you. I promise.'' His eyes slid downwards. "Will you please give us a moment, outside the door is fine." He turned and looked at the 4 men gathered behind him. They nodded in amusing unison and turned to wait on the other side of the glass door. I'm honestly surprised they surrendered so easily, seeing as I just killed this man's mother. The Prince's hands clasped in front of his crotch and he took a sympathetic step forward, eyes down.
"Why did you do it?" his voice quivered and I watched as his thin bottom lip jutted outwards. I didn't want to talk after not doing so for days, but I knew I had to answer him.
"She," I cleared my throat loudly. His eyebrows peaked inquisitively. "She deserved to die. You know that better than anyone." The Prince was taken aback. I don't regret my choice of words. "Just because she has a crown doesn't make her life worth any more than mine. She was a terrible person. Not everyone has the protection of a bloodline." I spat venomously. Those words had been boiling inside of me for too long and I didn't hesitate despite his insanely comessuarable physique.
"What makes you think your life is worth anything at all?" A shooting pain shot right through my chest, as though the man had come at me wielding a weapon. 'Wow.' A pang of guilt - 'I speak ill of his mother, he calls me worthless. Fair, I guess.'

authors note ~ bruhhhh idk what to write next, i'm just gonna switch perspectives bc i have an idea of smth for kaians perspective, i'm sorry i suck at this lmoaoaoao thanks for actually reading it?? ily thanks for reading <3