Crown of Thorns ||BVB a.u.|| (DISCONTINUED)

XXI: Fight, Love

Where am I?

I attempt to lift my head, but my body was unwilling to cooperate. I look to my left, then back up to the ceiling as I gather my strength. I try once more to sit upright, proving myself successful. I look around the room, beginning to remember and recognize my surroundings. Andrew's room. Our room.

What even happened?

All that I can recall is having a drink, then arguing, him attempting to seduce me (which was working), and then nothing else comes to mind. How do I have no recollection of what happened? It makes no sense.

I had a drink, we argued, he tries to seduce me, nothing...

Drink, argue, seduce, nothing, drink, argue, seduce, nothing, drink, argue, seduce— wait. The drink.

My legs swing off the bed and onto the floor. I push myself and urge myself to walk, walk over to the table where I had the drink. I pick up the pitcher and inhale its scent. Nothing out of the ordinary.

This is Andrew's doing, I'm sure of it. No wonder he tried to lie with me; he's no longer in love with me. I needed me out of the way momentarily. At least, I hope this was supposed to be a temporary spell.

My thoughts are interrupted by noise from the outside courtyard. I set the pitcher down, almost violently, on to the table and head to the door. I tug on the door and it does not move. I try once more, and to no avail, it still has yet to budge. I tug and yank and bang on door, calm turning into anger and fear, my banging grows louder and I begin to yell, demanding my freedom.

I sigh in defeat. I'm locked in. I turn swiftly and lean my back against the large wooden door, my eyes searching the room. There has to be a way out. All castles have secret passageways in the rooms in case of raids and such. It must be here somewhere...

Hastily, I make my way across the room to the walls, running my hands along them, in hopes of finding some type of door or tear in the wallpaper. Something. Anything.

Where could it be? Where could it—Aha!

A small door, hardly noticeable even if one searches for it. It's height reaches half of mine with the smallest handle to open it.  It utters a screech, a creak of old age. I peer inside into vast darkness. I light a candle before crouching and squeezing my way in. The farther I travel, the more space my head has, until I'm fully upright striding with ease. Well, as much ease as one could in the dark. There's a overwhelming and bitter chill that toys with the flame, giving it a slight flicker. I shield it with my hand; I haven't time for the flame to die.

I feel like I'd been walking for ages until I reach a door. Clanking and banging and chatter can be heard from the other side. It must be the kitchen. Though, there were no stairs. How could I have gotten here? Nonetheless, I push on the door. Nothing. I push and push until extorting a greater force. The door swings open violently, causing a fright and their merriment to cease. I was right; tis the kitchen.

They bow once realizing who I am. "Your highness."

I acknowledge. "Ladies. Gentlemen." Blowing the candle out, I drop it to the floor. "If you'll excuse me, I must find my husband."

"'Is majesty is in th' courtyard, ma'am. Somethin' 'bout a trial, I b'lieve, ma'am," one of the cooks says. Trial?

"Thank you, dear."