Betrothed

|| C h a p t e r 1 ||

All I could see was a pair of legs in camouflage leggings running into the thickened undergrowth, another pair of legs close behind in full tight leather pants, twigs and debris crunching underfoot.

I've only seen him twice. Through a foggy window... and at a prestigious event... But never was I ever planning... on becoming his wife... I was raised in love and peace, taught to show grace and forgive, but when my mind turns to you none of it is there. All I feel is bitterness and it grows like a tumour, pushing on the side of me that was serene, enveloping me in toxic darkness.
"And then he said ToMAYto instead of ToMAHto!" Duke Johnson snorted, finding it amusing that someone could ever make that mistake. The Lord of Leaffire let out a laugh although to my ears, it seemed artificial although the sound my mother, on the right of me let out sounded even more obligatory.
"Heaven forbid that he ever makes that mistake again!" my mother chortled. She had mastered her fake smile, right down to the wrinkles around her eyes. I could hardly bear the misconception of it all.
"Oh but he has! He also said PoTAYto instead of PoTAHto!" I watched with increasing disregard as the sound of fabricated laughing filled the elegant dining hall.
"Oh dear me! How amusing!" my mother giggled in her most lady-like tone.
This could get any more dull.

It's such a big world out there beyond these four walls. Sometimes I wish I could just escape and get lost in it. I glanced out the translucent, shimmering panes with intricate golden encasements surrounding the glass, spying the trivial swirls and dots imprinted within the metallic material. I let my paled fingers slide over the small but simple lock made from steel, the colour almost seeming to clash with the shining golden designs.
"You were awfully quiet at supper..." my mother exhaled, abruptly bringing my train of thoughts to a halt. I continued to look out the windows although I brought my fingers back down to my sides, instead focusing on the weeping willow in the back garden of the palace. "Why are you up here all alone? The party has only just begun," she tried again although my lips were set in a fine line. I began to feel the familiar tears press up against my eyelids, threatening to spill over my evening sleepwear.
"Mother," I spun around rapidly before I lost my nerve. "Please reconsider! I beg of you..." my voice trailed off feeling the bile rise in my throat. Now I can barely look without tears welling up, my freedom something I couldn't replicate in a thousand lifetimes. But progress knows no sentiment it seems and a love of this land is a weakness we can't afford. My mother rolled her eyes, letting out a vexing sigh. Her silvered tightly fitting ballgown shifted against my ash coloured floorboards. Her black leather jacket crinkled as she rubbed the bridge of her nose as if trying to regulate her rising temper.
"Not this again!" she growled tenaciously. "We've already been through this several times." It was like a vexing of the soul for what I felt was not human, it was twisted and distorted but it was something strong. It burned so bad like fire lacing my veins and creeping up my spine, my skin was a sore looking red but all I could feel was desire; desire to hate. I was intoxicated with emotion I had no intention of ever feeling, the acidity of it was residing in my stomach waiting to be spat out of my mouth in foul and vulgar words I would be stared at for saying, except I wasn't going to say them, I was going to screech them with every ounce of breath that dwelled in my lungs.
"I don't want to marry him! I will not! He's a complete stranger!"
"He loves you Damakos!" The scene was quite unbelievable, shocking really. My mind was sent reeling, unable to comprehend or process the words it was being sent by my ears. The questions of 'how would you know that', 'WHAT', and my final statement of 'I don't care!' were all on the tip of my tongue, burning to be out in the open. But the main question of how my mother would know held the greatest desire.
"Really?" my voice took on the tone of insecurity blended with curiosity. "How would you know that?"
"He told me himself!" my mother replied in a well-isn't-it-obvious tone. "He's quite fond of you and he can't wait to meet you!" I arched my eyebrow in incredulity.
"But that doesn't make any sense," I stated disbelievingly. "That's not the way love works. At least, not in the books I've read," I added, seeing increasing aggravation within my mother's Taupe hued eyes.
"And you must know this because you've been in love before?" She never argued with her fists but her words packed a powerful punch. Carefully spoken, without drama, her words had an air of finality to them and no matter how hard I railed against them, nothing would change her mind.
"No, of course not... I've never been in love..."
"Or is it that you let books filled with fantasies determine your fate!" her voice rose with every word, the anger and anguish becoming more and more evident. I rubbed my left forearm gently in awkwardness.
"Damakos," my mother breathed, seeming to deflate whilst breaking the icy silence between us. "do you remember when your father died?" The nausea swirled unrestrained in my empty stomach. My head swam with half-formed regrets. My heart felt as if my blood had become tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat. My melancholy mood hung over me like a black cloud.
"Yes, of course I remember... I was very young..."
"The war," the crown on my mother's softened silver ombré rose gold hair seemed to lose a bit of it's shimmer as she began to talk about her deceased love. "we don't have enough money and soliders to keep this up," she paused to take a shaking breath. "in fact, our population is thinning drastically." In the grip of silent panic, wild eyes, pupils dilated, heart racing, brain on fire, like a cluster bomb exploding in her brain, turned her brain to a mental soup of conflicting instructions, brain frozen, brain feeling like it's seized up, shrill scream, running aimlessly, frozen in panic.
"We're losing?" my frazzled nerves jumped all together, and in different directions.
"Why do you think I've been 'inviting our friends for dinners' this past year?" Her eyes froze over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth.
"What!" I yelped. "What about our armies in Kaitwhenshire!"
"Bombed from the Tastroule border," my mother replied downcast. "We're fortunate that I've been able to get in touch with Duke Johnson and The Lord of Leaffire. But I despair we cannot keep this up."
'How could you not tell me?' I speculated sadly. "Mother," I whispered, voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea we were enduring such hardships. I may have been ungrateful but can't we stay here until I find the right gentleman to marry?" There was something in her eyes, a pain behind it. I watched helplessly. I watched her eyes. Then I knew. The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing out grenades, scared for her life, lonely, desperate. She breathed in slowly.
"We cannot keep calling in our friends to keep discussing battle plans when we are severely disadvantaged against the Guerriers d'argent. "You need to marry Strallker in order for this war to be over," I refused to look away, even as my lips trembled and my shoulders heaved with emotion, unwilling to back down. My dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears; hands clenched into shaking fists, in a desperate battle against the grief. A lone tear traced down my cheek which was quickly rubbed away. "He will be arriving at the party any minute now."
"He will?"
"You must be on your best behaviour and change into your best dress! You must marry this man!" with her words of finality she turned on her heel and left, and just like that, the floodgates opened. I wept, tears streaming from my violet eyes, quiet, sobs tearing from my throat. Not until the sobs drove me to my knees did my determined gaze fall.