gojoloveer11
Amelia was a typical seventeen-year-old girl who had loved fantasy romance novels for as long as she could remember. Her life was simple-school, homework, afternoons lost between the pages of books, and Lucy, her closest friend, who had always been by her side. Nothing extraordinary had ever happened to her. Until that night. The streetlights flickered as Amelia walked home from the library, clutching a novel to her chest. The air was quiet-too quiet. Then came the sound of tires screeching violently against asphalt. She never felt the impact. Only darkness. Amelia woke with a sharp gasp, her body jolting upright. The first thing she noticed was the unfamiliar weight beneath her fingers-silk sheets, cool and impossibly soft. The second was the room. It was enormous. Dark velvet curtains draped over tall windows, shutting out all light. The walls were lined with black marble veined in silver, and golden candle-holders flickered softly, casting long shadows that danced like living things. Everything about the room screamed luxury-yet it felt cold, oppressive.
This wasn't a hospital. This wasn't her home. Her heart pounded as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. "H-Hello?" she called, her voice trembling. Before she could gather her thoughts, the door opened.
A woman dressed in a deep violet gown stepped inside and immediately fell to her knees.
"Your Highness," the woman said, bowing her head. "You're awake." Amelia froze.
"...My what?"
The woman looked up, confusion flickering across her face. "Princess Mal?"
Her gaze drifted past the woman, landing on a large portrait hanging above the fireplace.
The girl in the painting had raven-black hair cascading down her shoulders and eyes as dark as midnight. A crown rested upon her head, elegant and cruel. Shadows clung to her like smoke, and ye -she was beautiful. Terrifyingly so, Amelia stepped closer, her chest tightening. The princess in the painting looked exactly like her.