FictionPress.com - let the words flow
| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
one.
This is the hardest story
That I've ever told
- Mika / Happy Ending
You must remember, though, that it is never too late to abandon this tale. It will make things much easier for the both of us, and I most certainly will not miss you. Now with that said, let us begin.
The newly-married prince and princess of Garuay were quite a glamorous couple.
Lady Marisa Auden, not yet accustomed to her husband's surname, was startlingly beautiful. It was near impossible to ignore her when she stepped into a room, for she had sharply sculpted features and a softly tanned complexion, framed by silky straight hair that teetered on the edge of coffee and cinnamon. Her eyes were a captivating shade of hazel, seeming almost to sparkle when she smiled. And her smile itself was indescribably charming, ornamented with dimples and brimming with emotion.
The prince was equally striking, as a prince should be. His name was Darion – not Charming, as you may have assumed; Charming belonged to the neighbouring kingdom of Blagden, and had been recently exiled for treason. But Darion was well-loved by his people and a pride to his father, from whom he had inherited his deep blue eyes and fierce courage. His platinum blond hair, though, was undoubtedly a hereditary trait from his mother, for it was a recognized fact that Queen Frandeline had the most immaculate silvery-blonde tresses. Along with perfect manners and an even temper, he was a fine example of a young gentleman.
So it was a shame, really, that the prince was caught with his arms around a pretty, amethyst-eyed faery, pressing her against the wall as she trailed her lips down his neck.
Marisa had caught glimpses of faeries before, as they flitted past with their semi-transparent wings. But even then they had never failed to take her breath away. They are, after all, gorgeous creatures. They can look alluring and mysterious with the smallest of efforts, and very few of them feel the need to further enhance their natural beauty with enchantments. Not that it would be a nuisance at all, because faeries can cast powerful charms with barely a visible movement.
But even all their assets combined do not make up for their selfish, spiteful characters. They regard mortals as no more than playthings, scorning their lack of magic. Their interaction with other beings – the way they take pleasure in teasing and hurting – can at best be described as sadistic.
And as this particular faery untangled herself from Darion, her movements as smooth as liquid, Marisa could see that she was clearly as venomous as the stereotypes suggested.
"Marisa, is it?" The faery regarded her with scrutinising expression, head cocked slightly.
Darion was hardly as prepared. He fumbled to straighten his shirt, stammering as he searched for something to say. "Ma- Marisa! I didn't- didn't mean to…" He cursed softly under his breath. "This isn't-"
Flinching as he reached out to brush her cheek, Marisa took a step backwards. "An apology would have been sufficient, but I suppose I can deal with denial."
"I swear I love you," he whispered hoarsely in reply. "And I'm so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
"I don't believe you." But even to her own ears, her voice lacked conviction.
"I'm not lying. I swear it, upon-"
"You're right, Darion," interrupted the faery blithely. "She is very pretty."
Marisa froze at the remark, digging her nails into her palm as the faerie continued.
"Let me introduce myself, Marisa. My name's Tessa. Your darling prince fell in love with me easily, because both of you are so very pretty and stupid. I can assure you though," she continued, raising her voice to cover Darion's protests, "I'm much prettier than you'll ever be."
Even before her mind had fully registered the malice woven into those words, or the smirk on the darkly red lips, Marisa felt her senses numbing. In less than a single instant, she slipped through the mesh of consciousness, falling straight into darkness.
-
When she awoke, the first thing Marisa became aware of was the dull pain in her right wrist. The temptation of sleep weighed down her eyelids, but it was no match for the throbbing when it became insistent, gnawing stubbornly. Blearily sitting up, she started to take a closer inspection. The movement sent pain shooting up her arm, and she couldn't stop the piercing scream that escaped her lips.
"You received quite a nasty cut there," remarked a voice, "but I don't think it was that bad. You might want to keep it down, or the innkeeper will think I'm slaughtering you and kick us both out."
The unfamiliarity of the voice caused Marisa to forget her wrist for a moment and stiffen with suspicion. Looking around the shabbily furnished room, she spotted a figure in one corner, sitting lazily on a broken-looking wooden chair. "And who would you be?"
"Don't even bother to hide your hostility, do you?" laughed the voice, as its owner stood up and came into view. "I'm Liam."
"Liam," she repeated, relaxing slightly as her eyes scanned his friendly expression.
"Yeah. What about you?"
"Lady Marisa Auden." The words came to her lips like a reflex, startling her with their speed and smoothness.
"Whoah, lady. With that name and such a pretty face, aren't you scared?"
"I – what? Scared? I don't know what you mean."
Liam looked startled. "You haven't heard? But it's massive news. Everyone's looking for her Royal Highness."
"I am Her Royal Highness. Lady Marisa Auden," she repeated, realising why Liam might not have understood. "Auden is my maiden name."
"Well then, M'lady, you've landed yourself in quite a catastrophe." Marisa watched as his expression turned grim, and even though she prepared herself for the worst, she never expected his next words. "Because if you are Her Royal Highness, you're wanted for murder."
I'm finding it increasingly hard to keep my sarcastic, cynical biting tone, now that I'm actually getting into the story. And I'm terrified – absolutely fucking terrified – that Marisa sounds like a Sue. I have experience with those, so I can promise that she will not be one, but bear with me for a while; you will eventually get to know her and her flaws. And if she doesn't stop sounding like one, bite me. Hard, to wake me up and teach me a lesson.
Oh, and one more thing. The whole prologue was part of the story. Even the un-italicised part – that was not an A/N. I understand that might have been a little confusing, but kudos to those who realised it was the narrator, and not just me as the author.
Much love,
crimson.