damsel (not) in distress

chapter 3- the man who sold the world

-reader's pov

the crowd surrounding me starts to disperse and i'm left staring intently at the departing carriage. the horses unknowingly trotting the elegant carriage up the sketchy mountain; passing by many rich, leafy trees and bushes.

i let my rose petals flutter to the grit-covered terrain and my brow creases with suspicion. what actually happened up on that mountain? every new bride was taken up there, but why? overwhelmed by curiosity, i take a nervous glance around to check no one was watching me before i set off to follow the carriage.

the trek up the mountain is tiring and almost treacherous— especially in this heat. it feels way longer than it really is. i seriously don't know how the horses can manage to pull heavy chariots up here so often. sweat soaks my clothes, dampening them immensely; my breathing is fairly irregular also. however i eventually make it to the summit of the huge, rocky mountain.

the golden chariot in which the new couple rode up here in catches my eye as i follow up a rugged set of stone steps towards a bouldered archway. cautiously stepping through the archway, i turn a corner on the rock-strewn ground. crimson rose petals— the same exact ones i was holding earlier— scatter the ground. my brow creases with an intense mix of curiosity and confusion.

i keep on walking onwards until i come across a large collection of people. all of them wear dignified robes of rich colours like burgundy and navy. but the main thing which captures my attention are the golden masks they have covering their faces. the masks are humane in an unsettling and uncanny way. i shiver with discomfort slightly before treading over with gentle footsteps.

face painted with uncertainty, i reluctantly peak over a broad shoulder belonging to one of the masked men in the crowd. what i see shocks me to my core. the newly-wed prince's mother carefully directs a dagger across the princess' open palm. a stream of a scarlet-coloured blood seeps through the fresh cut. she then turns to her husband and they share some form of... blood oath?? dismayed, i watch on as the princess is offered a golden coin which she tosses gracefully into the deep, dark pit below.

the fair redhead then turns back to the prince. they share a few words yet i'm way too out of ear shot to hear— until he suddenly scoops the princess up into his arms. i instinctively frown at the sight and i'm met with a strange sense of jealousy— it only lasts a few seconds and afterwards i'm utterly baffled at why i felt that way. shaking it off, i return to watching the scene in front of me. but what i witness makes my eyes widen so much i fret they'll almost pop out of their sockets.

the prince suddenly hurls the princess out of his arms. her face immediately flashes with a look of pure dread as she's launched carelessly out of her husband's arms and begins her rapid descent down into the seemingly never-ending pit. i feel my stomach churning inside me as her shrill screams and shrieks of terror shatter the stillness of this eerie atmosphere surrounding me. gradually her howls of despair start to fade the further she falls; with my heart thudding wildly in horror, i silently start to back away from the crowd of masked people. i'm stumbling over my own feet as i walk backwards. my head is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour from witnessing such a horrific sight.

i suddenly turn away and start to sprint, retreating back down the mountain. i'm constantly losing balance due to tears blurring my vision until i finally reach the village i called home. i rush into my house, slamming the wooden front door behind me; which i slump against. my knees suddenly buckle in and i slide down the door into a sitting position where i helplessly sob into my permanently grazed knees.