By Death or Decree

Chapter 1

**Content Warning: This chapter contains depictions of physical abuse and rape.** If you are not comfortable with this content, skip the italicized section.

As the carriage jostled along the road, all Poppy could find the energy to think about was how she longed for a window. She'd barely seen the sun in months, her complexion becoming even more colorless and pallid than it had ever been in Masadonia. And it wasn't a surprise, necessarily, when she occupied the palace which housed dozens of Ascended on a given day - people who, she had come to learn, did not avoid the daylight in deference to the gods, but rather because they would face excruciating pain and death if they walked into the light of the sun. It was something the Queen had cruelly demonstrated to her, the servant having done nothing to warrant such treatment except for being present when Poppy had asked the impertinent question.

She'd had no idea that Queen Ileana was such a cold, ruthless creature. It had been a rude awakening, proof that Poppy's sheltered life had not truly been to her own benefit, but to the advantage of those around her.

The Queen had only scolded her coolly as the servant was reduced to nothing but ash, reminding her that it was not her place to question. That more people would be hurt if Poppy couldn't learn to keep her smart mouth shut. That she was to accept her plight with the grace and dignity of the queen that she would soon be - the queen to a land she'd not even believed still existed until she was wed to the lost Atlantian prince.

It had been hell since that day.

Malik. The Prince. His Highness . Where Ileana was quiet, hidden cruelty and vicious words coated in honey, Malik was untamed and unabashed malice. The 'lessons' and punishments he delivered made her long for the days she was summoned to the Duke's study. After her Ascension, she healed more quickly than ever, and her body could endure more and more torment - much to her husband's delight. It was all she could do to keep from brushing her fingers over the left side of her face where she knew a bruise still lingered, though any trace would likely be gone by the time they reached their destination. It wasn't the only reminder of how her body had disappointed him, yet again, but it was the only one that wasn't covered by the long sleeves and long skirts he demanded she wear. She recalled the scene as she leaned against the wall of the carriage.

"Penellaphe."

She knew, just by how his voice seemed to rumble like thunder, that this interaction would not be pleasant. But she had been expecting it, her cycle having ended two days before. He'd avoided her for the week, and while she should be irritated that something natural would be considered so revolting, that week's respite was something she was endlessly thankful for. The pain and discomfort that accompanied her cycle was nothing compared to Malik's attention, and looming at the end of that week was the inevitable punishment for once again not providing him an heir. She had to take advantage of the few days she was given - to piece herself back together. To try to come to terms with what had become of her life.

Poppy turned to her husband, but did not meet his gaze. She had learned that lesson early in the marriage. "Your Highness?" She could practically feel the smugness coming from him. He knew how much she hated calling him by his title, but it was yet another lesson that he had taught with a heavy hand and little mercy.

"Once again you have not conceived." Her whole body tensed at his accusation. "I'm not sure I understand. You know as well as I that I have made it a point to cum inside you nearly every day."

She abhorred the way he spoke so crassly about his use of her, and hated even more that it still colored her face with the heat of embarrassment and shame. She knew very well what he'd done - what he'd been doing since their wedding night. She'd fought at first, unable to accept the turn her life had taken, but the prince was far stronger than she was. He'd been surprised, of course, to find that she was not helpless when it came time to defend herself. She'd landed a few blows and managed to find the chamber door through the blur of tears, but he'd been on her quickly, dragging her back to their bed and stealing her innocence. He'd made no attempt to make it anything less than excruciating, and he'd punished her after for daring to deny him.