His Little Heir

Nothing.

The bedroom sparkled and shone out, each glimmer begging for attention. It was difficult to stare at anything but the white headboard overseeing a sea of black velvet blankets. Atleast, she could manage looking at her reflection now. A dark vanity showed a young woman tired, dishevelled, and heart broken. Daya unlocked her phone, opened her contacts, and stopped at Austin's name. Her thumb quivered over the call button.
Tears, the very same she had kept locked under a dam of politeness, took the opportunity to dance their way down her cheeks. What little remained of her mascara trickled like black blood. Exhaustion, heartbreak, and fear launched thier daggers faster than Ceasar's conspirators. Each stab wound was unique, every one of the twenty-three bled a new blood, but each sang a common song: despiration
Unless her father could negotiate something, anything, this was her new life: a castle that blinded her and a husband who would sexually abuse her again and again and again and agian...
What's one woman's well being to millions of people? Nothing.

Daya had to stop thinking like that.

She looked back into the vanity, its gold detailing mocking her. Almost all of her eye makeup resided on her cheeks, some of it had made it's way to the sweat shirt. She would need to shower, no doubt. As for her makeup, she hoped Leon wouldn't notice its change.

She looked down at the call button again. Seventeen times. He had called her seventeen times, and Daya was powerless to pick up a single one.

Her father had forbade it.

She wanted to scream, throw her phone, do something, something to escape her golden prison for even a second.
But she could do nothing; nothing but sit and wait for her entire life to be decided.

The reflection of the mirror's golden lace hissed back at her. The grey sweat shirt was a goner; the leggings were mostly intact, though. Daya groaned, and rummaged through the small draw string bag she had frantically packed the morning she left Aspin... Aspin.

She pushed the thought away and turned her attention to a small door in the corner. It too, she noted bitterly, shared the same gold detailing. Daya clutched the only t shirt she had managed to bring. It still smelt like Austin, like home.

Daya scolded herself, and layed the shirt on yet another vanity. At least, the bathroom was not gold. A desperate giggle rocked her body. Good lord, she was going to hate gold so much after this, wasn't she?

Daya undressed, and stared into her reflection.

This was the body he would take advantage of. Every inch was no longer hers, every part of her would be used for his pleasure, every word she spoke would have to appeal to him....

Stop. She had to stop.

Her fate was not decided yet. Maybe her dad would come through, or be unable to make a deal...
But Quishea', Quishea' was the deciding factor.

What's one woman's well being to that of millions?
Nothing.

Daya pulled herself away from the vanity, resolving to busy herself with figuring out how to use the shower. After a solid ten minutes of pulling and twisting, it sprung to life.

The hot, steaming water licked and stung her skin, but she didn't care. Daya needed the pain; it told her that she was still alive, that she still had a chance.

Brandon had to be joking, right? It all had to be a sick joke. She was waiting for him, for anyone, to come around the corner and scream "Gotcha!"
But no one came.

After fighting to turn the shower off, Daya dried herself and began getting dressed. She wrapped her hair in a towel in hopes of it drying faster. She had to admit, though, the shower did feel nice. But, it was time to leave her safe haven.
With a sigh, she pushed the door open. The cold encircled itself around her to the point of shivering. Faye was colder than Quishea', but not this much.

Daya began to sail the sea of black velvet, wrapping each wave around her, hoping, praying that the shivering would stop; she was already weary enough.
The sea engulfed her, and began to bite back the cold. Then, the waters began to calm as her chest rose and fell leisurely; they came to a trickle as the last of Daya's resolve faded and her eyes gently shut.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Pr- Daya, pssst, Daya," Quill was shaking her, "Please wake up."
Daya rolled over "Wha?"
"King Leon wants you and your father in the l-lounging area."
"Five more minutes."
"N-No. Daya, I can and will drag you out of this bed."
"Leave me alone, jerk face." She threw a pillow at him, still half asleep.
"Daya, you need to get up."
She didn't respond.
"D-Did you just go back to sleep on me?"
"Maybe."
Quill groaned: "Please, he'll get impatient."
"But Quill-"
"No b-buts here I-I'm giving you until the count of three to get out of this bed."
"Hmph"
"Okay then."

"One."
...............
"Two."
..............
"T-Two and a half..."
...............
"Two and a quarter..."
.............

"T-Three." Quill grabbed her ankles, yanking Daya from the velvet sea onto the floor.

"Really?!" She sputtered.
He could only shrug his shoulders. "You wouldn't get up so..."
Daya raised her fist to punch his arm, but retracted it.

She took a deep breath, "L-Let's just go."
Quill looked at her, his brow furrowed. "You okay?"
"We both know how this deal will play out, Quill. Let's not lie to ourselves."
"Daya..."
"Please? Like you said, we don't want to make him wait."
"Is something wrong?"
"No, I'm fine.
"No, Daya, you're not. Is that why you changed shirts? Did something happen?" His questions probed and poked at her defenses.
Daya opened her mouth, and shut it. "I changed because I got my sleeves wet while washing my hands, nothing else to it" She pushed past him, opened the door, and turned the corner.

"You're already lost, aren't you?" Quill leaned up against the door frame, waiting for her return.
"Shut up." Her voice became distorted by distance.
He pretended to be interested in his fingernails; they were getting long. Maybe, it was time to cut them "Whatever."

In minutes, light foot steps began increasing their volume, and Daya was standing at his feet.
"Okay, okay. You win. Can we go now?"
"Yeah yeah, hurry up." He positioned himself beside her and began adjusting his long strides to match her shorter ones

"D-Daya?" Quill's voice pearced the golden veil.
"Yes?"
"I know why you changed, I um, heard you when I-I was passing by on an errand."
"Oh.." Her voice fell.
"Look, I-I know it's hard for you. I know you've been raised to think the worst of Fashad, of Leon specifically, but he's a good man, Daya."

"Let's hope so."

00000000000000000000000000000000
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I tried to make this one a little longer, since my update shedule has been terrible lately. The deal starts next chapter! 💜💜💜