Me but not

Majesta glared at him and let the dank room help with her mood. The fire was amazing and warm, but she was sick of not seeing the outside. The feeling like she was in a dungeon was making her more pissed off than everything else. Things in her life seemed to go from good to hell in a few seconds. Putting her hands on her slightly rounded hips, she glared at him and then heard her stomach growl. Color crept up her face and she hid behind her hands. It was horrible to have that happen in front of him.

“You are hungry, let me feed you at least.” Craven stood, wanting to give her his arm, but he thought better of it.

“I am not too sure that we have the same ideas on what food is,” Majesta told him with a smile.

His laugh ran down her back, giving her the shivers. The room seemed brighter, and she wanted to snuggle close to him at that moment. Without a thought she went back to the bed and sat down looking at him. Wanting to know how he could affect her like this. Smoothing the skirts down she didn’t really know what to do with herself.

Majesta did know that she didn’t want to wear this outfit for the rest of the time she was going to be here. Wanting to go home, but she didn’t really know how to do that. Why had he brought her here? What was so special about this little island? Did he really want to try and get the woman back that had died five hundred years ago?

“I know what food is, leannán.” He stood crossing the room toward the bed where she sat. The mix of feelings for him and from him confused her. Majesta understood that he could mess with her mind, but could he mess with her heart? One moment she didn’t want to be to close, the next she wanted him to hold her. Which was right? He knew how to get to her and that bothered her.

“Fine feed me,” Majesta spoke into his chest, the shirt he wore was cotton and showed part of his chest.

The hair that peeked out made her want to run her fingers through it, but she didn’t for fear that it would go much farther than just one simple touch. He moved and let her step to his side; it was a proper way to walk to a dinner given by a royal.

“I am sure you will love the food, but it is old-fashioned,” Craven spoke at her, not really to her. It was like she was under her, a peasant.

Majesta wondered how old-fashioned he was talking. Sure, it wasn’t drive-thru or fast food, but it wouldn’t be. She wasn’t that lucky; she had horrible luck. Hoping the dreams were over and she could live a normal life. That was not going to happen, and she was rather sure about it. They moved to the wooden door, and she couldn’t help but take in the craftsmanship of it.

Dragons for decorations carved into the solid oak. Old iron handles twisted with open balls of iron on the ends had a latch lock. The room was old and dank, but this door really brought it to life. Back when this place was built, she was rather sure it looked amazing. It was in disrepair right now, like the life had been sucked out of it. With the door open, they walked into a long hallway that was made of the same stone as the room. Torches lit the hall every ten feet or so, but it wasn’t enough light to really give you any idea of how long or high the hall was. The hall exited into a large banquet room. Along the hall, paintings hung, with tapestry that showed different castles. Some of the young knights trying to win the hands of the princess.

The ceiling was ten feet tall if not higher, on the walls ever, so many feet were statues. Gnarled faces seemed to follow her as they walked into the hall. The sunken eyes of the statues haunted her and made a shiver race up and down her spine. Along the wall were windows, but they were covered with heavy drapes that blocked out any sun that might have been out. Majesta gave up on trying to figure out what time of day it was.

At some point she would find out, she guessed. Entering the room, she took in the fact that long wooden tables took up most of the floor space. Twenty men could sit at these tables and be comfortable. At the far end of the hall was another large table, but it was facing the front door, it had to be the head table. Several people were sitting there in kingly outfits. She knew that Halloween was over so they must have worn this because they thought it to be the style. Color crept up to her cheeks again, for she wasn’t wearing her corset. It showed and many of the men looked at her like she was the new meat to have. Craven didn’t seem to notice that the men in the room were looking at her like she was dinner.

It bothered her a great deal, but she didn’t say anything to Craven. The furtherer they walked, the more she noticed the rather large fireplace with a huge painting over it. Majesta stopped where she stood, looking at the painting. It was her, but not her. That didn’t make any sense, but she knew it was her. As she looked at the painting, she could see Craven behind her…well, the painted her. His hair hadn’t changed much in the years, and his eyes were still those amazing green color. The dress she wore was very long and had the double layer effect to it. The outer layer was a solid green with a trim that had gold in it. The inner layer was gold with different patterns running up and down the fabric. The top of the dress had lots of trim, with pearls that draped down the front in a long loop. Taking in the whole painting, she turned to look at Craven.

“That’s me… But not me.” Majesta pointed at the painting, then looked at Craven.

“That is, you from the sixteen hundreds. You really did hate having that painting done. It was an engagement gift from me to you. You told me to get you a dress instead.” Craven seemed to almost blush at the memory.