𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘 - Cinderella AU

XXXIII - it's how I speak the truth

xxxiii.

THE QUEEN OF ANGRIA SUCKED IN A BREATH, pressing her lips together as her heart pounded mercilessly inside her chest. Her arms were wrapped over her legs, knees touching her chin as she tried to collect herself. Whoever would enter, it wouldn't do for her to cower. Where ever she was at present—whoever it was who had brought her and was keeping her here, it wouldn't do to give them the satisfaction of her fear.

In all of Isadora's twenty and two years of life, she had managed not to allow her own mother break her, than who were these people to think they could cower her so easily? They—whoever they were—could have magic at their disposal, or even weapons against her unarmed person, still, Isa's anger refused her to cower. Maybe she would think of giving herself up when sufficient odds were against her, and a weapon was pointed to her heart. Then perhaps, she would think of giving up. But for now, she had a mind, a tongue and adequate energy in her body at her disposal. The required use must be extracted from them.

Her posture straightened then as the interference with the lock of the door started getting aggressive, as though the person with the lock was getting frustrated with the stubborn key.

She dropped her knees, and tucked them underneath her and her glittering white skirts as she distanced herself from the door as much as the chains binding her feet would allow her, all the while continuing to hold herself straight. Swallowing thickly, she prepared to meet whoever who would show. She prepared herself to ask the questions she needed to, to show the strength that she wanted to.

After all, she was the Queen of Angria now. She was more than the Miss Isadora Tremaine of Toulouse that she had once been. She was more than what she had presumed herself to be on her darkest days. She was more than all that, she had always been more. And for Zander, she would be more than everything she was or could be—to see him again, to be with him again, she would do anything she needed to.

The door opened with a scraping sound, as the person behind it pushed it open, making gruffing sound if exertion from their mouth.

And Isadora's eyes found themselves fix on an unorthodox sight. The person guiding the door was not a person. With a height of what seemed to be four feet, the creature-Isa couldn't understand what else to call the thing—was of a startling damp green color, it's manner like that of humans and fairies, but the second obvious exception lay in the hand sized two tusks protruding from beside both ends of the creature's mouth where perhaps humans dimpled, it's dark small lips were pressed into a straight line, dirty hair was wrapped underneath an equally dirty piece of cloth in a manner reminiscent of working human maids or other human labor in midst of their work.

The creature's clothes—dirty scraps tied across its body in a chaotic manner, and the worn leather on his feet—immediately replaced The Queen of Angria's initial fear into a collected shock as she stifled a scream at her first sight of the creature.

Short as it was, its form was clad in an assortment of muscles on its forearms and chest and short thick legs. The stomach, protruding out from behind the dirty brown clothing, was another matter.

So absorbed was Isadora in her scrutiny, still she managed not to notice the rusting dark wheelbarrow that the creature was silently wheeling. With difficulty, and without even once looking at Isadora, it pushed the door clear open, making enough way for the barrow as the creature pushed it into the small room.

Isa startled, the barrow—though one wheeled—was larger than the creature's own size, and definitely did not belong in the cramped room that she was occupying as her cell.

The creature seemed to have no consideration for that issue, as it huffed through its nose, perspiration coating it's exposed green skin and a stoic expression of frustration and mechanic submission remained plastered onto his face.