Fairest

Prologue

Only queens with hearts can bleed.

     Closer. She needed to be closer. Or she would not reach it. As an iridescent white butterfly, its skeleton glowing through its sheer, pale skin neared, Natasha reached out. To touch it, even just for a moment. For deep within the forest that boasted magnificent evergreen trees, Natasha could practically feel the delicate caress of the crisp winter wind on her ethereal face, could almost smell the delicious scent of the pine trees as she navigated though the towering giants. Then, Natasha paused to admire the bountiful blossoms and leaves of black and white that swirled and danced on the branches of trees that were native only to her home. Trees that boasted  alabaster white and ebony black trunks, trees that were ethereal in their celebrated beauty. Trees called the Prekrasnyy Trees. Natasha watched in admiration as the flora swayed to the rhythm of the wind, seemingly engaged in a ever continuous battle to gain dominance over the other. To gain power over the other. Both evil and good willing to oppose the other in any way possible. It's here in this kingdom, a kingdom that is in a war to protect itself from the evil of its adversaries, as well as the from the evil of the betrayers lying within, that Natasha gives chase after the white butterfly, under the nascent rays of a moon born to rise and fall each day. Despite its faults, Natasha's need to remain in her kingdom, in her home, in Velaris, was vehement. However, just when she had reached out her pale, long, delicate fingers to grasp its tiny body, Natasha's deep, crimson painted fingernails that sparkled wickedly in the dim lights, connected with the harsh, cold, unrelenting glass. Natasha growled in anger as she banged her palms against the glass, willing it break. Willing the damned mirror to shatter, and set her free. But no amount of determination would ever break the unrelenting glass of the mirror. Of her mirror prison. A glacial chill of fury, more dangerous than any mundane surge of temper, snaked through the queen. A ravenous need to liberate herself from the constraints of the foggy walls that restricted her access from her powers, erected by the nasty old witch, consumed the queen, as she bit her full, deep rose lips. The urge to once again possess the full capacity of her powers irked Natasha. For the arsenal of peteranatural powers she possessed constantly conspired against the queen. Mocked her inability to release it, and break the witch's spell. Shaking her head in an effort to physically dismiss the torrent of these negative thoughts, locks of Natasha's exquisite ebony hair swayed slightly, the hues altering to display the locks that were almost a deep azure color, their beauty accentuated with the movement, as the strands of hair curled and moved. In fact, the stands of hair were as free as the inhabitants of her kingdom, Velaris. Or as free as they were, currently. Alas, this freedom would not last long. Natasha Petrova knew this, for confined as she was in this atrocious prison, she saw everything. Including the plans of her despicable enemies, who ruthlessly plotted to bring down a once powerful, feared kingdom that was an empire under her own rule, but was nothing but a lesser kingdom known only by its past days of power and glory. For this was how Velaris now was, under the rule of its former regent turned temporary Queen of Velaris, (until Natasha's daughter, Silver, is of age to take the throne), the horrendous women, Mila Skeva Rasputina. After all, no weak creature such as Mila could bear the weight of the crown's power successfully, as Mila was unworthy of the throne of Velaris. Now, due to Mila's incapability, Velaris was open to the threats of its oppositions. The Zhul'ye were coming, and Natasha was the only hope of the kingdom's survival. That is, if she could free herself from the prison that she had been confined to by the Grimm Brothers and the witch for a decade. Gritting her pearly white teeth, Natasha releases a feral growl. There is no could. She would free herself from this mirror, lest she be forced to watch the demise of her kingdom. Of her daughters. No! Never again would Natasha feel helpless, never again would she succumb to the fate she was destined to. She had not been able to save Svetlana, but she would save her kingdom. Her people. She would reclaim her rightful place as Queen and reign over Velaris, but to do so, she would require assistance from a former ally turned foe. With excruciating effort that caused Natasha to gasp in pain, Natasha tentatively reached out to him as the dark tendrils of her power snaked into his prison, a prison crafted by the Grimm Brothers as well. This prison; however, was crafted for the sole purpose of creating a realm of retribution for the prisoner, not confinement- like Natsha's own prison. This kindness for Natasha's prison conditions was only because Natsha's capture has been a quick, furtive process, so perhaps the brothers had redecorating plans in mind... Natasha knew that he, this prisoner, despised her with a deep, unrelenting hatred, knew that the claws of her former betrayal had dug deep into the generally empty abyss of his feelings. But she was also aware of the fact that they both needed this truce. Despite the fact that Natasha was asking a man whose personality was akin to Lucifer himself for aid, she did not care. For the deeply stained truth of her past dripped and flowed in thick, scarlet colored rivulets that no longer threatened to blacken her soul as it dried. For it already had blacked her vital organ to the point that it was no longer recognizable. That was alright with her, for only queens with hearts can bleed, and Natasha has long forgone the possession of such an organ. Nevertheless, Natasha was determined, willing to go to any dark length, play any dangerous political games, beat any cunning enemies, avoid any taunting smiles, so that she may remain one step ahead, and win this war for Velaris. Natasha had placed no limit to what she was willingly to sacrifice of herself to ensure victory. Just as she had during the previous war. But this time, Natasha had not one, but two daughters to care for. Two daughters whom she loved monumentally with her cold, dark heart. A heart that may be ripped to crimson shreds by animalistic forces... There, she felt it. A tug. Another one. A mirthless smile envelops Natasha face, brightening her beautiful, flawless and creamy skin, as she senses his powers. His albeit suspicious reply. Yes, Cole Dobrev, the stubborn, flirtatious, powerful bastard know as The Darkling King, had responded. Yes. Now, the games may begin. Now, the tale may begin.

For,

this was not a tale of Happily Ever After.

No,

this was a tale of the victor.

This was a tale of the Evil Queen.