The Wounded Queen
- Reads 289
- Votes 22
- Parts 12
MatureOngoing1h 16m
Last published Wed, May 23, 2018
"What I do prior to my marriage to you is none of youre business Jessina!"
"From the first moment up on meeting you again, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize you were the last man I could ever be praviled upon to marry!" The memory of what she witnessed would haunt her from now to the day she ruled as Queen of Mysteria, Queen of Scotlire and beyond that. It will mold her, but her nickname throughout her own kingdom, as well as others, will make her known as what seems to be an easy target. She is The Wounded Queen.
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November nights are especially stricken with melancholy, as if the ghosts of all winter past come rushing to haunt her heart. She was a captive of her love, her desire, and her dreams. There's always a special quality to the loneliness of dusk, a sorrowness more infectious than the night. She had earned his trust. She had never strayed, betrayed, abandoned. She'd been stalwart, true, loving. To her, he was her everything. But to him, she was only a secret. He was a prince and she was merely his lover. • Dismount your high horse. come take claim of the girl you ruined. Come lay eyes upon the desolation you left in your wake. Do you not hear the devil at your shoulder sharpening his daggers? He sits heavy on your subconscious. Dauntingly smirking at me from afar. Enough of his wretched sins, speak to me with your eyes and perhaps somewhere, some day, at less miserable times, we may repent. In the arms of dusk.
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