Tied to the Throne

chapter thirty three

I knock three times.

No voice speaks back to the somewhat abrupt ask of entry.

Thankful, I open the door and walk into the dark room.

The door shuts behind me, filling the silent space for just a second.

As I step further into the room, the air feels heavy, carrying a sense of anticipation and mystery. The dim light filtering through the half-closed blinds casts elongated shadows across the room, creating a dance of darkness on the faded wooden floorboards. Dust particles float lazily in the air, caught in the gentle rays of light, adding an ethereal quality to the atmosphere.

The silence envelops me, broken only by the faint sound of my own footsteps, muffled by the plush carpet beneath my feet. The room exudes an aura of secrecy, as if holding untold stories within its four walls. It feels almost as if time has stood still in this forgotten space, where memories and forgotten dreams linger.

Drawing closer to the source of intrigue, my gaze is drawn to the bed adorned with the meticulously arranged dress. The fabric, adorned in the regal hues of Athline, shimmers in the subdued light, its folds and pleats expertly crafted to accentuate the feminine form. Intricate embroidery weaves intricate patterns, intertwining threads of gold and silver, each stitch a testament to the skill and dedication of the maker.

I am captivated by the dress's allure, unable to resist its magnetic pull. It possesses a certain enchantment, as if it holds the essence of a long-forgotten era, where elegance and grace reigned supreme. The dress seems to emanate a soft, alluring fragrance, a delicate blend of lavender and jasmine, evoking memories of blossoming gardens in the midst of a summer's eve.

Gently, I reach out my hand, hesitating for a moment before my fingertips brush against the smooth fabric. Its touch is like a whisper, caressing my skin with a feather-light sensation. The threads beneath my touch seem to come alive, vibrating with a quiet energy that tingles through my fingertips.

I begin to undress, taking off the robe I had previously been wearing, but leaving on my undergarments and corset. As restricted as I felt with the thing, it was a mandatory piece of any women's closet, and no doubt a princess'.

I lift up the dress, holding it by the shoulders and stepping carefully into the fabric. But as I fully step into it, a realisation dawns on me.

There's a zip.

A zip I cannot reach.

"Arabella?"

The abrupt voice slices through the silence, jolting me from my thoughts. Startled, my body reacts instinctively, a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. My heart skips a beat, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption.

After composing myself, I turn to face whoever entered, still holding up the dress praying it doesn't fall.

To my displeasure, a tall man in a mask stands before me.

Nikolai.

I mean he was bound to come in a some point, it is his room, but come on!

"Uh- Nikolai, sorry, I-"

My stuttering mess is cut off by him closing the door, once again echoing around the dim room.

"What are you doing, I thought you didn't want to be in this room?" he asks in a hushed, confused voice.

Fuck.

The zip.

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thanks for reading :)
600 words