Alpha's slave, the eternal submission
I know her to be delicate, stubborn but light, like a feather.
How could she, with her refined sensibilities and gentle nature, adapt to a place so stark and unyielding?
“She’s in there,” She said, stopping at a door in one of the halls. I take a moment, my hand hovers near the door handle. My heart is heavy with anxiety, anger and hesitation. My fingers brush the metal, preparing to open the door.
“Your Majesty,” Damsey says.
“What!” I seethe.
“The consort has not been in her right mind. She does not speak or conversate with anyone. She is still not in her right mind as we speak. Even if you were to speak to her, she would not see you…she would think she is dreaming.” Damsey comments.
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