Chapter Text
HER
She reached below the belt, lower and lower..........
Once again, she was walking along the once grandiose halls of the mighty prince. The marble tiles still shone brightly in the darkness that overwhelmed her. The pillars on either side were covered in grime and splatters of blood. The inky darkness parted to show her the once familiar long corridor that held 180 lamps on either side. Each of her steps forward, snuffed the light out of the lamp passed, forcing her to stride forward. And so she did. It was precisely at the point of passing the 74th lamp that the voices started to appear....
some spoke words of endearment, some cursed at her, some complained about literally everything under the sun or was it the moon now?......
"Hello beautiful"
"Ooh! That's the ice queen!!" (Huh??)
"This dress is too gaudy for MY tastes!!"
"Please save my baby! Please don't go... Come back"
And yet her logical side knew that one look behind could ruin her last chance at survival.... (from what exactly???.....)
On she went, passing the 91st lamp where the head of a young guard was spiked on top of it, blocking the flame and thus allowing the blackness to hug her more intimately from all sides. She was more annoyed by that than horrified, and her own emotions baffled her and befuddled her brain, causing her to misstep and stumble backwards. The voices got closer at an alarming rate......
She ran towards the last lamp on the corridor, which was not unfortunately the 180th lamp. It was the 179th one as the 180th broke on the day she fought with him... (who exactly was he??) And why did she fight with him in the first place? as far as she could recall, he was definitely of a handsome built and had an all-time infuriating smirk on his rugged face. Maybe it was that smirk which did the trick, her brain provided helpfully, or was it unhelpfully... since any wrong direction of thinking could definitely lead her to a trap.
The large ornate oak door sat right in front of the 180th lamp post. Her dainty feet caught on the numerous glass shards that were once part of the 180th lamp. Rivulets of blood ran along the glass shards and the marble tile was slightly dyed in crimson red. The leg when lifted portrayed several gashes along the surface of the sole, crisscrossing at several points. Her mind was yet too numb to relieve the extreme pain, so she stood more steadily on the glass shards, crunching and dying them in the process.
The door was illuminated by the shadow of the flame of the 179th lamp. The gold knobs scattered on either panels of the door, had been surely polished a few days ago (can certainly say that it was over polished!). But the rest of the door was entirely covered in cobwebs and grime presenting an overall hideous sight. The overtly frozen, too numb mind was giving her a persistent headache, persuading her to almost lean on the door….. Yet she managed to veer back in the last second crunching more glass shards in the process. The voices were again getting closer at an alarming rate……. Now or never?!
Using the last residue in her bony hands and praying to all existent and non-existent gods of noose mythology (or was it Greek?), she pushed upon the doors to step into another black abyss. Stings of pain started registering in her mind, making it impossible for her to take any further steps. Halting in her progress, she faltered between closing the door and resting on the floor and stepping back into (now completely covered in the sinful darkness) the corridor to join the hoard of voices that threaten to overwhelm her already fragile mind…
HIM
The table was littered with scrolls of varying lengths and contents. The burden of it all was heavily weighing upon him, and it showed: the bony hands, the sunken eyes, and his pallid complexion which starkly contrasted against his all-time black robes. Going directly to the wine cabinet hidden behind the burgundy coloured heavy, thick curtain, he drew out an expensive red wine bottle. The wine glass sat atop the cabinet, still containing a few drops of champagne.
Uncaringly (Ugh! so much for his nobleness!), he chucked the red wine to the glass, only to realize that red wine too has been completely used up.
Frustrated he threw the empty wine bottle with a mad growl. The bottle impacted with the only frame that hung in the threadbare room creating cracks on the portrait, which had been framed using the rich oak wood found in the prince’s garden and also had a thin gold lining surrounding it. It held a photo of a young girl, (probably from a noble family, just like him) in the middle of a big Ross garden. She was smiling at the bouquet of evening primroses, fingering the feather-weight petals and inhaling them with closed eyes.
Took him a second to realize what happened, and then, he was sprinting across the room towards the portrait. Tugging the portrait from the wall nail, he pulled it closer to his heart and sank down to the floor, inevitably once again stepping on the glass shards (of the broken wine bottle), crunching and dying them in the process.
He traced her face lovingly (him being capable of love?!), his fingers catching on the crack that ran diagonally from top to bottom. Occasionally (rather, frequently, when he is in drunken haze), he would like to imagine that she is actually smiling at him and not at the stupid bouquet she got from the SLIMY GIT! (I know, I know…He doesn’t use a vocabulary of crass words like the red headed family, but desperate times calls for desperate measures…)
Right below his throne room, the courtiers were enjoying the large feast held in honour of the newly appointed king. They were drinking for his good health, even though the king was nowhere in sight. Instead, his best friend has graciously taken upon himself to host the banquet in his place and had also requested (rather forced) the workers to decorate the entire hall in bouquets of evening primrose. Eventually all drunken courtiers were bundled up and thrown to the dungeons. The bumbling, meddling fools
A soldier was placed in front of each cage and was told to take whatever measures necessary to cut off their escape “Even death wouldn’t matter”, he told the assembled warriors. “The current treasury couldn’t handle feeding those fools anyways” Also he emphasized one important fact. “I’m doing this for the sake of the empire we just won. The king is currently not in a healthy state after losing the princess, so we should all look out for him.”
All the maids and workers of the palace were told to retreat back to their chambers. The request was not necessary as everybody remaining within the halls had already fled the chambers upon seeing the change in demeanour of the king’s best friend.
Climbing up the staircase, he turned left and directly entered her chamber. The room was glowing in the soft moonlight as the curtains had been pulled apart. She always did hate those gaudy curtains… On her bedside, a wilted bouquet of roses sat within a large crystal vase. He replaced them with an evening primrose bouquet that he snuck from the halls, and threw the wilted Rosses across the room to the untended garden below.
At one time of his life, she had been his centre, his love, his air, hi world, his…. Everything..
But now he was mature enough to understand that love is such a fickle thing. Well he overcame it and surely could anyone else, if they wish to live within this kingdom that is. He despised lines like “Love conquers everything”. They were too cheesy and that was the first thing which brought doom to these two in the first place!
Well, no time like the present, to interrogate the soon-to-be-demoted king (drunk all the time too!). He also had so many other important matters to handle, like rescuing her (otherwise assumed dead queen) from the abandoned castle, beheading the mumbling fools. Oh! and also digging up a miniscule grave for the pathetic king.
Closing her door (he had already closed her door within his heart, a looong time ago), he strode towards the end of the corridor and stood in front the giant throne room for several seconds, relishing the sounds of muffled sobs coming from within. How truly pathetic!
Without bothering to knock, he pushed open the doors to find the pathetic king, sprawled across the floor clutching her portrait to his heart. Striding past the drunkard, he reached the throne and withdrew the King’s sword from its jewelled scabbard. Relishing the feel of the heavy sword on his hands, he turned towards the night sky and thanked all the gods above. May they give him enough strength to get rid of the king and rule the kingdom, and perhaps even to get rid of her if necessary. Hopefully it won’t come to that, if she knows what’s right for her people.
Kneeling beside the fallen king, he lifted the king’s cheek to look at the red eyes and the bags beneath them. “It’s time for you to leave this world” he whispered softly, yet mockingly.
“MALFOY??!!”
It echoed around the room, even after the blade struck deep in to the heart and the blood gushed out , pouring in to the deep black rug on the floor. The portrait fell from his hands and shattered on the floor. Ironically, the primroses now just looked like the roses around her, dyed in his blood.