Against the rules: The rise of the Queen

PROLOGUEA sharp pain shoots down my abdomen, as my toes curl gripping the gravel underneath me. My senses flutter in and out of consciousness, and a loud groan escapes my lips reverberating through the walls. On instinct, my hands rush down low to clutch the pain, but something buries deep into my wrist. It sends a jolt of new cry right out of my mouth and I whimper. My cries echo through the wall, they reach me ten times more gruesome, more torrid, and it pulls me in my senses.Wait! I know this place - how can I not. It’s the dungeon I built for the prisoners of my kingdom. A place that tortures them, rendering them mentally unstable with the loud noises leaving their skin. A place that fulfills their desire to hear others scream. My face contorts to a mock, this is not going to be easy, not with the tortu

Chapter 2:   I hear the clung of the metal, echoing through the walls of the palace, and my tiny eyes shoot up in excitement. Sherlin holds onto my hair braiding them, making me all prim and proper.  I swat her hands pumping my small feet to make a run through the palace to the training ground.   I see my dad -King Adrian, fight with a soldier twice his size, all unfazed by the size of the person in front of him. His eyes are fierce, they seep with energy that can mesmerize you on the battlefield rendering you weak in the knees. His gaze zeroes on the soldier, and the soldier whimpers. His eyes look all hazy in contemplation of how he could hit the king.   “Don't go easy because it’s a training ground, or because I am the king”, dad’s voice echoes

Chapter 4:   My eyes travel to the men. Exactly my type - muscular, chiseled to perfection, with fear in eyes. I slide on the chair near the fireplace crossing my legs one above the other.   The men have their heads bent down, their pretty necks arching as light casts a shadow on their curves. I snap my finger, they look at me their eyes running over my face. I point my index finger at them indicating to come near. They get on their feet their hands tied behind, as they kneel before my legs.   I bend a little getting closer to their face sniffing, the musky sandalwood mixed with their natural scent. Great.   “Did you like the bath in the palace ground?”, I ask tracing the jaw of one, my eye on the other.

A loud thud on the door wakes me up. I groan rubbing my eyes, pulling the silk sheets to cover my body. I twist my body in a more comfortable position, clutching onto the cool of the cushions. The room fills with frantic shuffles of footsteps, and my senses waver bringing me to partial consciousness.   “Get up”, Max shouts near my ears shattering my eardrums, almost making me deaf.   “Get lost”, I shout twisting on my back, as stray strands of hair tickle my face.   “Adria, get up; the king.”, my eyes shot open at the mention of the king. I straighten up on the bed, a cry leaving my lips as I clutch at my hips.   The bed is clear of all evidence of the activity overnight, even the men. Max makes sure to, get the men

I run a finger along the edge of the throne admiring the beauty under me. It’s ethereal. The gems reflect the lights as my fingers expose them in a tiny pattern to the light above me. The throne speaks power in itself, and as my finger brushes the surface I feel the surge of light in me; a surge to make people understand how rightfully I deserve the power.    “Queen Adria”, I hear Max call me, an unexpected emphasis on the word Queen. I look at him, his lopsided smirk in its place as he climbs the stairs to the throne. I look at him mirroring his expression, gliding my hands on the texture of power the laid underneath me.  “So Queen Aria, huh”, Max says, as he stands beside the throne.  “Yes, the Queen”, I say grinning giddily at the new title.