(n.) THE LOVE OF DARKNESS

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THE FRUSTRATION EATS at her, unspoken loneliness that has become a vice in her heart. "Why does destruction taste addicting?" A revolting reflection stares at her, and it takes everything in her not to lash out. Covering the right eye with her palm, she frowns at how repulsive it is. Passing through the middle of her brow down the cheekbone lays an unpleasant cicatrix. That would be the last time she ever deliberately disobey the king.

When she lets her arm fall to her side, it reveals her eye, a dark shade of cherry wine. In unexplainable cases, when her emotions grow wild, it burns like a ferocious fire.

Out of indescribable anger, her fist collides with the mirror, the glass shattering along with the hideous image. Torn knuckles and crimson lines cracked shards, but the pain feels numb. Pieces of glass reflect the ancient marking on the side of her neck, and Thana shuts her eyes from remembering. Left with scars and the reminder she is not human, unloveable and rightly so, she pushes the strands of hair away from her face and places the mask where it belongs. Washing away the dried blood, she steps away from the mess she created.

And upon exiting her chambers, the maid jumps in fear, fiddling with her fingers as though Thana will kill her if she says the wrong thing. "His Majesty has summoned you," she squeals meekly.

"I won't kill you," replies Thana softly. Like a moment of weakness, it disappears immediately. "Get out of my face before I decide to change my mind." The threat evokes no real intention, but it leaves the maid pale and bolting as far as her legs can get her. It's the same reaction but a different female each time, yet she will never fully get used to the feeling. Striding down the empty corridors, the echo of a distant voice in her head tells her that she is not alone. I have lost my mind, she thinks.

As she nears the throne room, five royal knights stand firmly, nodding their heads to allow her in. While standing in front of the king, Thana finds herself kneeling to him. And with a sly glance, she notices his smug expression, looking down on her as though he has tamed the wildest creature. "Your Majesty," she grits, the words bringing bitterness to her tongue.

"How has your training been?" the king asks gratingly, daring and challenging. Thana bites the side of her cheek until she tastes a tint of metallic, a desperate itch to wrap her hands around his fragile neck. A burning temptation to see his pair of dead, hollow eyes drained of life. "I trust that you have behaved." Mocking her like a dog, the king's personal knight smirks in an attempt to provoke Thana.

Dryly she smiles, "Yes, Your Majesty, I have," the reply makes her want to snap her own neck. "Training has been well and very beneficial," when she lowers her head submissively, it strips her of all dignity. "I do, however, have a small request, Your Majesty."

"Speak,"

If I could kill you at this moment, I would, she remarks mentally. "Would you permit me to visit the city today?" Her request makes the king raise his brow in question. "I'd like to continue my experimentations with new herbs."

"Granted permission, however, you may do so as you accompany the prince to the city," he dismisses with a raise of his hand. She rises without bothering to thank him, taking a dangerous stride toward him as he tilts his head and brushes through his beard. "Don't try to escape again unless you have forgotten what punishment will await you."

Another stride. Royal knights unsheath their swords, surrounding her. "No, your Majesty, I have not forgotten," she affirms quietly, "Nor will I ever forget."

You are only a man hiding behind a crown. Strip him of his title and kingdom, and he has nothing left.

THE PRINCE'S EYES ARE dull and aloof, yet they soften at the glimpse of the rather petite female who ambles fearlessly to him. The corners of his lips lift, "Good morning, did you sleep well?" he asks, caressing the two hackneys for the journey ahead. Though, upon seeing Thana, the horses begin to thrash violently. The feeling is mutual, you little shits, she sticks her tongue out at the animals. 

"Excellently, Your Highness," she responds in a clipped tone. He is aware of her withdrawn nature, and it entices him all the more. While she adjusts the silver mask, the prince wonders what beauty lies beneath it. When she arrived at the castle six years ago, covered in bruises, dirt, and blood, he knew that he wanted her. She must be fifteen now, he thinks. He'd only saw her without that mask once, and he never forgot the ruby eye that stared back. And despite any female would be ecstatic to be in her position, Thana never gave him the time of day.

Noticing the small change in her appearance, he smiles as he gestures to the carriage. "Your hair looks beautiful up," pausing just as she enters, she snaps her head up with the feeling of her face growing hot. A simple and harmless compliment, but it leaves her in a trance.

"T-Thank you, Your Highness," rushes Thana softly, pulling her fur hood over her head. Seeing her embarrassment, he slyly chuckles. Shutting the door of the carriage, he takes a seat across from her. His intense gaze makes her shift uncomfortably. "The city is beautiful."

For years, he has silently observed her. With futile attempts of gaining her attention and trust, he refuses to give up. He saw Thana as something he couldn't have, but it made him want her, nonetheless. Prince Dmitri wanted to own her, an overwhelming desire to control her. And seeing and acknowledging the hatred in her eyes directed toward his father, he wanted to use it to his advantage. "I'll help you," he interjects rather suddenly. "You and I have a common goal, and it's to get rid of the king." 

It must be a lousy trick. But with such real determination and confidence, it leaves her confused about his intentions. "You're speaking of treason," she warns. 

"And treason it is," he murmurs lowly, "He may be my father, but perhaps it's time for a change." Lulling over his words, Thana remains quiet for the duration of the carriage ride. Had it not be for the absurd request that she guards him toward the city, she would have arrived on horseback long ago. 

The prince takes a moment to drink in her unexpected beauty. Light freckles that are overlooked, a rich snowy silver iris with long lashes and well-defined cheekbones. There may be blood on her hands, but he admires her for it.  

As the carriage halts, a knight opens the door, gesturing to Thana. Upon exiting, most of the laughter grows quiet. Children scurry into the alleyways while most seek shelter in buildings. "Bow, and never meet her eye." The voice whispers hushedly to her child.

The furry hood is the only source of protection for her. And as the prince exits the carriage, the chatter and laughter resume. The knight leans in, "The king has assigned me to look after the prince now," he claims. "You are to find your own way back to the castle."

For a vague moment, her foolishness made her think that she could belong. There's no place for her here or anywhere, as a matter of fact. As naive and kind as the prince is, that will ultimately become his downfall. In seconds, her expression turns passive. The sudden change in her makes him flinch. "I'll be on my way, Your Highness," she drawls apathetically. "And refrain from speaking to me the way you did earlier. You may be a prince, but remember just who I am."