A Royal Bloody Wedding

C H A P T E R : I

"Your cold blood cannot be worked into a fever; your veins are full of ice water, but mine are boiling; and the sight of such chillness makes them dance"
―

Piled upon the dew covered, perfectly cut grass the crusty autumn leaves whirled around in a circle like a small tornado sweeping the beautiful gardens of Latisia Franci.The mystifying blinding colours of the sun shone onto the pile of leaves as the smell of the ocean breeze bitterly blew over my shoulders and neck giving me somewhat life in my dead soul.

I held onto the dungeons, black metallic rods that belonged to the small window and breathed in purifying air since it was my only source of life. I slowly let my hands fall onto my lap and took a quick gaze around the cell. I practically knew where every rusted spatch was on the long thin, silver rods. I memorized all the scratchy spots on the walls that need to be repainted, but most of all I captured every detail about the castle of the Royals from the outside. It was high up on land, giving you a view so breathtaking, although I was underneath the castle's main floor, I admired the effort put into gardens from the dungeon view.

I silently fell back on the ground feeling lightheaded and distressed. I have been lacking my required meals and I sure as hell haven't felt water cleanse me in three days now. I couldn't find myself to eat. My mind switched over to overthinking mode and maintaining whatever hope Is left that Alex wasn't being tortured and is safe. I softly stroked the dark dirt on my white maidens dress and remembered myself jumping over logs, swimming in rivers and walking barefooted on nature's soft surface with Alex's deep, melodic chuckle in the background. I miss him dearly, I would trade my precious soul to see just a simple glimpse of his love toxicated brown orbs, or run my hands through his light, soft hair.

If he dies, it will be my fault

The thought of him holding me warmed me up but instantly it all ran cold when I heard the royal trumpet play.

"King Stephen along with his royal guards" A loud musical trumpet went off as a much louder tone yelled through the dungeon grounds, making guards look extra alive and more serious when this guard's voice echoed throughout.

I immediately felt my stomach churn and my head weigh heavily on me and forgot about everyone and everything.

I was going to be executed. I have sinned

I spotted the King from afar, and to each of his sides were three larger men all dressed in the same attire. All dungeon guards bowed their heads as their previous King walked past them and I knew my cue to as well stand up and bow my majesty, but I didn't.

Somehow I no longer feared anything that was going to happen to me. I was going to be dead after all, so why bother obeying orders to obtuse rulers.

I don't know what confidence stroke me to a point where I'm denying the chivalrous acts of courtesy towards the Royals, but I knew it wasn't something that would help me out.

I heard heavy footwear pounce on the dungeon floors and deeply felt horrified but showed not one ounce of fear. I knew I should have gotten up already but my pride wouldn't allow me to. I crushed my palm with my fingers and forbid any fear out bolding itself.

The guard that was surveillancing my dungeon cell stood up tall and firm when King Stephen arrived right in front of my cell.

Then no other, King Stephen himself was facing my direction. I tried pushing myself to get up, quick this stubborn act but for some obtuse reason my body wouldn't listen.

I heard a masculine, sarcastic chuckle and my eyes met with large blue ones. King Stephen

I turned in my spot