Being thrown to the wolves is a death sentence.
Adalia knows that all too well, since she witnessed her own father being slaughtered in that same unmerciful way.
Living life as a meek slave in a kingdom full of royals, Adalia has no rights and is tr...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chaos embraced the icy kingdom like a bitter lover. Its cold touch turned the royal family into statues, frozen in fear and uncertainty. Their minds were cast into a void state, where nothing but their screams of despair bounced off the walls.
They were unable to think clearly or wisely.
The queen was hysteric, demanding executions of her most loyal, appointed soldiers and generals for failing to locate the king. If she kept up the act any longer, soon, she would run out of people to execute.
She sat on her throne, all radiance and beauty that she had ever displayed seemed to be lacking. Her robes and her silky, red dress tried to boast of her beauty and wealth, but it was futile. Stress was taking a toll on her body, and no extravagant article of clothing could repair her.
She didn't know stress. She wasn't experienced in the feelings her people went through. She didn't know how to handle herself, or deal with her emotions, or direct and command an army for that matter. Where would she even start? What would be the first actions to take in finding the missing king?
She was foolish, executing her own people for such trivial matters. Just like the king, her pride, anger, and greed would be her downfall.
And just like the king, she was oblivious to it. She was oblivious that she was signing away her death with a feathered pen of black ink. Sometimes, Death's contract doesn't have to be sealed with a kiss. Sometimes, Death's contract doesn't have to be obvious or deliberately signed.
Because sometimes, Death's contract is signed unintentionally when one gives themselves away to the lusts of the flesh. Greed, uncontrolled anger, pride, desire.
How useless she was as a queen, how disgraceful she was as a queen. She was nothing more than a trophy for her husband. She was nothing more than an object who sat next to the king and looked pretty.
Perhaps, her only purpose in life was to look pretty.
She was nothing more than a doll, primped to play the part. She acted like she could play the part, she certainly looked like she could play the part.
But could she?
No. No, she couldn't, because now, she's thrust into a world she doesn't know how to handle, a world she has no control over.
And she couldn't be more inexperienced, more unprepared.
They built her into the perfect woman. They carved beauty into her face and wove her hair into intricate braids. They dressed her in robes of silk and clothed her in regal dresses that disguised her as a goddess. They adorned her body with jewelry and placed a crown atop her head to boast of her wealth.
They did all of these things and more for one purpose, and one purpose only.
