Inside The Castle Walls

01 • There Once Was A Queen

The wine tasted bitter. Almost like a rotten grape. It left a tang in her mouth that she couldn't wash out with any other taste. It lingered, loomed over her like a sour monster, manifesting itself into his dark presence.

She knew he'd be in any minute now. As she counted the milliseconds on the rather large clock, lined with golden designs, she wished to be anywhere else. She wished her mother hadn't been so cruel as to leave her with this man. The very man that ruined her every waking day. Never let her forget that if it weren't for him, the kingdom would be done for.

If he hadn't aided her kingdom with supplies and warriors, she'd surely be kept up somewhere in a jail cell, withering away and regretting her entire life.

Though, she felt as if that already was the case.

Was it worth saving her place in the royal family and continuing the tradition? Was he worth it? Were her tears worth the shed?

For that, she did not know. She wanted it to be worth it. She didn't want to be the weak link that made hundreds of years of dedication and royal blood mean nothing. She didn't want to be weak.

"Moriah, my darling." William waltzed into the room, gliding over to her swiftly. In his white suit with gold embellishments, and with a seemingly genuine smile on his face, he could almost pass for a gentleman. Almost.

"William." She nodded back, bowing slightly in her chair. Even though they were married, formalities were formalities. This wasn't a true marriage after all. A true marriage has love, companionship. Romance, flowers, morning and evening kisses, was everything she longed for. Everything she held close to her heart.

William wasn't the sort to be romantic, give flowers, nor give gentle kisses. For Moriah would've never chosen William if she had gotten to choose at all. If she had even taken a second to know him, she would've fled. Alas, now, she was stuck. Stuck caged like a dove at wedding ceremonies. She feared she would never be set free.

"What a lovely dress, my love." He said, taking her gloved hand and kissing it gently. She internally shuttered, not daring to do so in front of him. She could wince and act uncomfortable when he was not around. For now, she had to play her part.

"I'm glad you find it lovely." She wasn't. Moriah couldn't care any less about if William liked her dress or not.

He ran his hand up and down her arm, gaining her goosebumps that weren't the fondly kind. The kind one gets when met with an icy breeze or an icy glare.

His fingers stopped, lingering on a specific place on her sleeve. There was a small tear in the silk fabric. A tear that sent shivers of rage down his spine and into his very soul.

"What is this?" He asked, more rightfully, demanded. Her face went a pale that resembled a porcelain doll. Her body felt an undeniable cold and an undeniable warmth simultaneously. Her heart sunk to her stomach.

"I must've ripped it by accident..." She told him, slowly. The key to all of this nonsense was calmness. She could not show her dismay nor her erratic warnings. If she had it her way, she would flee right at that moment. Regrettably, she didn't have it her way.

"Darling," his voice was strained, mocking, "you know how I feel about rips."

"Yes, I know." Moriah knew all too well.

"Then, please tell me, why you've decided to embarrass me and walk around with a tear in your dress?"

There was a silence. A silence short lived.

"Answer me!" He barked, placing both of his hands that were weighed down by all of the times he hit his wife, on both sides of her chair.

"Love, I didn't know it was there. You know I wouldn't of—" Her desperate attempts at calmness were fruitless.

"Right. You wouldn't have defied me and pranced around here with the.... the audacity you so clearly possess." His voice became more and more strained with every breath he took and every word he spoke. It was raspier, deeper, more violent.

Unrelenting.

"No... William, listen to me—"

He pulled his hand back, quickly swinging it forewords, smacking Moriah's face. Her skin wobbled and rippled as she fell off of her chair. She hit the ground with a small thump, hitting her head against the pristine, spotless tile.

Once she regained her composure, she felt a tickling sensation on her forehead. Bringing up her gloved hand, she touched the tingling spot, watching her white gloves stain suddenly with redness. The blood seemed to swallow the white whole.

"I can't even look at you right now," He told her, deeply disgusted at the sight of her, "Clean up that mess."

And with that, he slammed the door, seemingly shaking the entire room. The chandelier that hung gorgeously above shook slightly, clashing the diamond shards.

She sat there, digesting her situation. Though, there was barely anything left to digest, as this was the millionth time she had to accept her position as William's wife. The position that doomed her to forever be at his mercy. To fall even when the slightest, smallest thing, such as a tear in a dress arises itself.

She held onto the tear, glumly looking at it. It was futile to resent the tear itself, but she had to place the blame somewhere other than herself this time. She knew it wasn't her fault the dress was reared, nor was it her fault when the apples weren't centered correctly not when the towel was hung too low. For she didn't understand what she had to do to meet his expectations.

It was completely exhausting.

Every second she spent in the castle felt like a second being wasted. A second she could've spent being joyous. A second she would rather spend any other way.

The very room seemed to be slowly sucking the life out of her, leaving her with nothing but a shell of what she used to be.

The fiery, beautiful, smart woman she once was, replaced with a mindless robot who could only do what pleased William.

She had enough of the madness, the worrying, the rules. Enough of her pathetic life. Enough of being too weak to stand up to him. It all had to end.

And so, she ran.