▬▬ curses and blessings, i pray

THE MORNING YOU WOKE UP, you were surprised when three chambermaids had entered your room, bringing refined gifts, fresh flowers, and expensive clothes and ornaments.

"Greetings, Her Highness."

Your eyes were narrowed remarkably, a crease was formed on your forehead. You were back to your old name again: Her Highness.

You didn't like the sound of it, but you were too overwhelmed to react according to the matter.

The chambermaids discussed together with the idea of inviting guests over for a special celebratory meal in your honor. You had had a gloomy premonition that this might happen ever since Isostress insisted on having you and Tengen as his guests.

You were quick to reject the idea, begging them not to go making an unnecessary fuss.

You already had a fair share of hatred in the kind of guests you got in your previous life as a princess. People came over with the sole intention of eating and drinking, happy for any excuse to get together. Since childhood, you had suffered at having to be present at the table with these people, imagining how much more painful it would be when you were the cause of the gathering. They wouldn't listen to you, even if you kept stressing that you didn't want all this fuss about anything . . . Such as you were.

"The king thoroughly instructed us to serve the Highness with the utmost attention."

No matter you resisted, you were coerced to beautify yourself. For what purpose? Little by little, you grew angry with the people around you and became distant. You fed your lowly self with dollops of rage and hatred. As you stood in front of the chambermaids while pampering you in the dressing room, you were not especially pleased with what you were seeing. They made you wore a white silk gown that covered the body from the ankles to bossoms, and was held up by decorative shoulder straps and waist sash, then gave you a decorative collar made out of tightly hued bands and embroidered materials and beads that set around your bare neck and shoulders. Bracelets, earrings, pendants, rings, ankle bracelets—all made from precious stones—also set off to your white garments in a beautiful contrast of blues, greens, browns, and golds.

"You look very lovely, Your Highness," said a trim gray-haired woman.

The other plain girls in your service practically whispered, "Very beautiful, Her Highness."

As the three chambermaids began to put a headpiece to your hair and tightened the decorated fastening of the long necklace composed of many rows of beads in different shapes and colors, with a pendant behind your shoulders, you continued to examine yourself with great criticism. So many had told you how pleasing you were to the eyes—the kind proportions of your face, your fairish hair, and soft eyes—but you could never find that beauty in yourself.

Yes, even though they made quite a ceremony of dressing you for today, but the truth was that you spent all those hours looking for problems you would be facing, for you were all too aware how much you hated being in extravagant events.

Eventually, once primming you up, they invited you to the banqueting hall. You never listened; you felt almost as if you were a decoration to the event. All your life, it was already planned to be filled with cosmetics and social occasions, yet such a carefree life was not entirely pleasurable, for, among other things, you could not deny that you were pained by the absence of what was a meaning of life.

Heavens, as you never ready for a public appearance, you couldn't help wonder what gossip would make the rounds of tomorrow's table. On the subject of social status—you who had nothing as your everything—the most horrid things would be told and retold was about your low-lifeness, and over and over it came as a great astonishment that people could talk of such things that could affect you.

You sat still on your bed, facing the wall. You planned to escape, but the chamber had no other access than the door.

You were firm in your decision not to go out, thus they sent you food. Even with the enticing and savory smell of the food that was presented on your small table, you seemed not to have an appetite.

You didn't understand how things went so fast within a night, so fast that it wasn't possible to comprehend.

Evening came, Isostress the king commanded his seven chamberlains that served in his presence to bring you before the king your most precious clothes and accessories to show the people your divine beauty: for you were fair to look on. But you, a peasant, refused to come at the king's order; therefore, the concubines and royalties were very wroth, and their anger reached to you.

They came to your chamber. They were very beautiful in your eyes, they wore pride in the way they stood—very noble and had a high standing in the society. Each one of them had a foreboding aura, emphasizing their fury towards you.

"Who thy maiden is?" A question of nark rose from one of the women.

You only eyed them sideways, not even professing a word of respect or greeting. You could care less. For you, they were just the same human as you.

"Why thou ingrate hath no respect such? How presumptuous to disobey thy king's order?"

Why would they have qualms about you? You snickered inside your head, because you already knew that you were a threat to them. They came here all the way here to your chambers if their pride was not on the line.

Meaningless.

"I order thee to speak!" One demanded.

Speak or not, you would infuriate them either way. What only concerned you that there was no one to back you up if ever they maltreated you.

Then another woman reprimanded, "None of us concubines favored by the king! How come Isostress the king speaketh of a nameless woman that she shall be the queen? That is why we gathered here to see thee!"

The queen . . .

Surely, it was pleasant in ears, yet it was nothing but a vain name that the society made up. You had no desire to hold a position, because you couldn't find a life in that way.

The corner of your lips curled up, scoffing silently.

They heard you, nonetheless.

"How dare thee!"

Only by then, you felt a hand grabbed your hair harshly, your primmed hairstyle went ruly.

"A mere wench hast put forth mockery, attempted to undervalue and looketh down upon us?"

You almost rolled your eyes. This was why you hated people who clung to their title.

"Doth not disregard that we hath no husband!"

Yes, the king married them, yet what was he looking for was a queen. And he found it in you.

"Saith that this woman with unknown decent wilt be the queen? Such foolishness!"

Although their glaring eyes pierced through you, and the grasp on your hair was hurting you, you didn't protest nor let an emotion painted your face.

"Say something, you prostitute!"

You only sighed, getting tired of their nonsensical proclamations.

"If thine traveler is a prostitute . . ." you said impassively, ". . . and thus unto all of thee."

It sounded putrid in their ears, so a hand landed on your cheek. They even scarred you with their polished nails.

"This woman!–" It stung once again when someone had slapped you in the face– "Not all prostitutes are the same! A fine line hath separated between the upper class and lower class. Know thy place!"

She was still holding your hair, cheeks swollen from their assaults. But you somehow wanted this: ruining your attire and appearance, for the thought of rejecting you once seeing you scarred.

You simply smiled, eyes were void from emotions. "Lower class, upper class . . . It weighs the same vanity. Thou still a prostitute."

You chuckled once your provocations reached the offensive mark to their pride.

"Insolent wench!"

They pulled your hair harder, beat you up with their precious hands, and cursed your mere existence. They even took a platter of food and a flagon of wine and poured it onto you.

"Thou art ashamed not? Thou lowly wench who came from nothing, now wearing extravagant clothing and accessories?"

Isostress IV, the ruler of Kemi, had never shown any signs of favor to the concubines, yet he gave it to you. If by chance, you would be the queen, all of them would be disregarded; they couldn't just let you tore them.

All of their frustrations, anger, annoyance, and enviousness were freed along with the strikes of their palms, yanking of your hair, and curses through words.

You seemed to have no intention to retaliate; you had somehow accepted this to happen just because of simply living.

"What are you doing?!"

A voice rose in the middle of the ruckus. Upon hearing him, the concubines froze, fear slowly elevating from the soles of their feet up to the strands of their hair.

As for you, you didn't expect him to come, so you sighed, facing the other direction against them.

"Thou heard the king not?"

It was Mykerinos, threading inside the chamber with loud footsteps. Although you couldn't see his face, you were apprehending that he was fuming mad.

"His Excellency hast ordered that she is someone to be taken care of! Hast every single one of you longed to be exiled?"

The declaration that Mykerinos said gave you the confirmation why you were treated specially.

The concubines felt ashamed once getting caught on hand. Worst, it was the king's brother, his right-hand man, who witnessed it.

"Leave thy maiden's chamber, yet expect to be punished!"

"But, my lord, we—"

"Leave," Mykerinos coldly stated, making everyone shivered their spines. "Now."

Having nothing to choose, the women left with gritted teeth of even greater annoyance.

Whilst you, you had no face to show. The scratches on your face hurt, your clothes soiled with greasy food.

The man walked right behind you, kneeling on the process, yet he prohibited himself not to touch or see your face, because of his deep respect for you.

"A woman filled with jealousy is a quite harsh thing; they are afraid of getting lost of possession and cast out of the royal palace. Forgive me, Her Highness, for I came late."

And suddenly, he felt really protective of you. How much of an incompetent he was, if protecting and guarding the Her Highness (according to his brother's request), he couldn't do his job better.

You had nothing to say, though. Yet you also wanted to pour out your vexation unto him—the situation, being an elite, you didn't ask. You only remained silent, just clenching your fists without him seeing.

Mykerinos perceived it still and only sighed for he was unable to things right after what had been done.

"The king wanted to summon thine maiden to the royal hall, yet I see that it was impossible for now," he politely told you. "I will tell the king that thine maiden was not in a good condition. Now, I will be leaving thee, but I will ask thou chambermaids to accommodate and pay close attention to thee."

You breathed out a deep sigh.

What you only wanted was to get out of here.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were about to sleep, then a visitor came to interrupt your rest. But you had been meaning to see this person to discuss with him.

Isostress, the man you hated to deal with.

He entered your chamber, but you couldn't visualize him much, for the torches of the night were out, only the oil lamp on your side table was being lit.

"Th-Thine maiden . . ."

Your eyebrows creased upon hearing the sound of his manner of speaking. And now that it came to you, he also reeked of wine. The king was drunk, it was no doubt.

"Why thine maiden refused to come at the king's commandment by mine chamberlains: therefore mine frustration caved in me."

You noticed that he was holding a slim liquid vessel and a goblet, then placed it on your table.

"Where's Tengen?" The first question you implored instead of humoring his visit.

He found you so rude: not paying respect or speaking with grace. Somehow, he still had an ounce amount of patience for you. He was the king, and a mere woman like you had the audacity to disobey him.

"Thou road companion hereth not anymore."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What doeth mean?"

"Tengen hast left thee; he already sold you to me."

"Liar," you sputtered darkly.

For days and days, Tengen was your road companion, and you saw how contented he was in leading a simple life, was never a slave to material things; thus, selling you was something you would never imagine him doing.

"Why . . ?"

"What why?" you returned.

Surely, you were feeling like you were on the edge. Isostress was a man with power and authority, and with one word, everything he said would happen. And it was clear as it seemed that he had used it for his own benefit.

"Thou art fine . . ?" he asked nonetheless, sounding so intoxicated. He must have also sensed how you fret in his presence. "I heard that thine maiden was not in good feeling?"

"Please leave." You demanded. "I shall be resting by this time, and so you would."

"I brought thine maiden a medicine . . ." he prompted, ignoring your stipulation.

You watched him poured a liquid substance on the goblet, then reached it out to you.

"Here, drink it; it wilt make thine maiden feel good."

The dark contours on your face were emphasized more when you caught the scent of the medicine.

Given that you were knowledgeable when it comes to plants, you easily apprehended the toxicity the supposed to be medicine it would bring.

Brugmanziah, you thought, species are amongst the most toxic of ornamental plants, containing a substance that was responsible for deliriant effects.

Was he trying to do something bad to you?

Offended as you were, you hit the goblet as it was tossed on the ground along with the liquid.

"I reckon thee to leave." The expression in your eyes changed, a pair of hollow eyes were staring at the man.

Yet he was watching you with a profound distaste. There was a straight line on his lips, painting a pissed-off facade.

"What a shame," he suddenly sneered with a scoff. "How could not thee know thy place?"

You wouldn't able to answer. It bewildered you when you sensed that the space around him changed. This man might be looked like a sheep the way he clothed, yet all you could see was a rabid wolf in him.

"I gave thee everything." He begun, narrowing his eyes, having scrutinizing gazes.

"I doeth not ask for it," you answered, wearing a snarl to your face. As you settled down on your bed, you were mustering a courageous look.

The person in authority only chuckled mockingly. And you couldn't believe what he did next. It surprised you a lot when his fist landed on your face. You only found yourself facing the floor. You felt as if your mind went black, but only to find out that once opening your eyes, everything was in the whirlpool. There was a stinging pain on your cheek as you tasted the prick of blood in your mouth.

You felt like crying. All of the sudden, he grabbed your hair and forcefully made you face him.

As he saw your tears, his laughter roared inside this room. "Ah . . . Even though thou face filled with tears, thine maiden still looketh so beautifully."

Then he pulled your hair down, and once again, he hit your other cheek. Your attention was too immersed in the pain that you could no longer say words. It was painful. Too painful. You couldn't help but express utterance of wailings.

Then Isostress ungripped your hair, making you drop on your mattress.

While you were weak, another sensation rose from your skin: a pair of hands caressing your hips to your thighs.

Your heart started to pound indiscriminately. With your remaining strength, you tried to yank his arms away. Of course, he wouldn't give a budge. Then he parted your legs, pushing a knee between your thighs.

"I hath always wanted to touch thee . . ." The man took hold of your wrists and pressed them above your head.

"Stop!" A scream full of fright left out your tongue as you struggled against his grasp. "Let go of me!"

He only sneered, taunting your weakness and defenselessness

"Hm?" A single hum to your ear. "Stay put for a while . . . I could swear to thee that I would make you feel good."

"No . . !" You trailed, trying to release yourself from him.

All of the courageous acts you mustered had faded into the thin air.

He leaned closer to your head, wordlessly claiming your lips.

You resisted. With all your might. Surely, you were weakened upon feeling his disgusting mouth on yours, but hardened your resolve and bit his lip strongly.

He groaned, it was as if his mouth flared. With a sudden move, he gave you a firm slap in the face again. Once seeing you helpless, he started licking your neck. Your whole body was shaking; you could not seem to able to calm the anxious tremor in you.

He was humming laughs against his throat, filling your ears with lustful and lewd flicks and licks of his tongue against your skin.

"Worry not . . . Let me fill thine maiden with pleasure."

You were wailing in pain as you were immobilized for the pain.

What happened next was you felt a finger parting your lips open.

"N-No . . ."

You were already afraid—so afraid that couldn't do anything to free yourself from this.

Heavens, you even felt sorry for being so powerless.

"Shh, shh, I promise I wilt take care of body, all right?" he shushed, thread-length against your mouth.

He dropped his left hand to your thigh and stroked a sensitive part on you. It stupefied you and sharp gasps ran out of your mouth.

You couldn't move, only plead in a low tone. Tears were helplessly flowing from your eyes as you were seeing how hungry his expression was.

He yanked your gown down, almost leaving you bare. You struggled again. Yet it changed nothing. He only found your lips and gave you a sloppy kiss. You didn't want to give him an entrance, so you writhed against him, pushing your legs in hope of throwing him off.

The man got annoyed by your violent efforts, and in just a fast cue, he hit you on your diaphragm, knocking the air out of your lungs. It hurt you. It hurt and it hurt. You almost vomited and lost your consciousness for a moment. Curling myself like a ball, you protectively covered your abdomen and faced the mattress instead. It was hard to accept that you were very weak at this moment . . . Until you just lost your strength to fight back.

He flipped you, facing him. Then you laid there, filled with whimpers and cries. His hands were on your bossoms, squeezing and exploring the bits of your skin.

He started kissing you again and wanted an entrance into you. You never wanted him to, until he painfully groped your breast. A painful moan escaped through your parted lips, giving him an entrance unwillingly.

You were losing my hope as he was just molesting you.

Everything that was inside of you started to rumble. You were too anxious that you could not think straight.

"Thine maiden seems a fine woman," he grinned maliciously. "I promise thee that this wilt be worthwhile."

The tears on your eyes never stopped. Quivering. It even felt so degrading.

The bastard had this triumphant smile on his face as he bent down and fully licked your jaw with his hideous tongue.

Oh, dear heavens . . . What shouldest I do?

"Thou taste so great . . !" he exclaimed doing the same thing in the process. "Moan . . . As loud as thine maiden could. Let me hear thou beautiful voice."

You cried silently. You never expected that things would fall into these ugly circumstances. Slowly and slowly, you were getting really weak. Everything made you so sick. You tried your best not to let any sobs escaped your lips. You had to be quiet, even though everything grossed you out.

His tongue was trailing down to your cleavage, and you didn't know what was compelling to your mind, yet all you knew that you had entered a self-defense mode. He was so busy violating you and didn't notice that his firm grip had come loose.

Since he was very occupied with his selfish pleasure, he didn't see that you had raised a hand . . . immersed with accumulated cursed energy that even you were not aware of.

And your anger towards him made you fight back.

You struck the area where his ear was with your fist leaking with black and red glows.

You couldn't believe what happened next.

You knew that your attack would mean nothing, yet you saw how your mere hit had sent Isostress flying on the mid-air.

And before he could leave your gaze, you witnessed and heard how his head got dislocated and cracked, until his body landed on the wall before hitting the granite-made floor.

It came on suddenly in the incident of the night when you were a mess in your chamber. Then it also came: the curse energy you were told about. As you remained lying on the bed, you felt something crawling on you. It started from your fingertips, or your feet, or on your eyes.

That night, the black and red droplets came like tears spilling from your form. Mote by mote, a water-flow of unending reddish-black tears. The streams were growing . . . Gradually and gradually . . . Simmering, writhing red and black drops spread to cover your head and then flowed down your neck to your chest, arms, and waist—until every last inch of your body was covered, down to the tips of your fingers.

Speechless as you were, you darted your eyes to the man who had violated your sacred body.  There was no struggle, or some screaming, but then, there was that mess—the blood, the splatter, and the waste that came falling out of his fractured skull.

You trusted your sight, things got ugly after you killed him.

You were no ignorant.

You killed him.

You killed him.

A single hit to his head coated with that certain mysterious energy . . . It amplified your weak fist and was able to overwhelm him.

Oh, once again . . . You killed someone.

He bled. Yes, he bled so much. Blood was gushing out indiscriminately out of his mouth, nose, and to the lethal injury, you caused him.

At that moment, the man was motionless, eyes were dilated as it horrendously stared at you.

Fear had crept on you as if a huge amount of curse had again piled on your whole being.

You didn't mean to . . . Yes, yes . . ! You didn't mean to kill him! You were just protecting yourself . . . There was nothing wrong with that!

Hurriedly and frantically, face blanched with tears, you pulled your hair while trying to register everything to your understanding. You were gasping for air as if your breaths were being taken away from you, trembling, frustrated.

You tightly bit your lips to refrain yourself from shouting. You didn't want an audience for your crime, now that you had killed the king.

Tears were blurring your sights as you longed to hit your head on a hard surface. It frustrated you, ever feeling so hopeless, and you had no idea where you would pull some strength to get out of this disarray of events.

You needed to escape. You had to escape. You couldn't be here any longer. If you did, death would sure to greet you.

Death . . .

You were sure of yourself that you never feared death . . . Yet why, now, you were contemplating?

Once understanding your thoughts, you halted from crying, dropping on your stiff shoulders loosely.

There was something wrong with you. Something you could never point out.

In days gone by, you never repented of your acts. You were not even sorry for what you had done. Upon committing those sins, a number of paths had opened for you, giving you the choices you did not have before; adventures which you dared have; various experiences with which you did meet.

In those days, you had perceived the portrayals of death. It was something to be feared, for it was not kind. And yet, also, death was a peaceful phenomenon that marked your life as something beautiful.

Thus you had chosen a beautiful way of dying.

Though death had always been it was—inevitable and never changing—you had no desire to speed up the process of time.

You had to live . . . for some more.

Or at least to experience what it meant to live.

But . . .

You were no deserving of life; you were a murderer, a curse, a soul full of blemishes.

A wise maiden as you were, you knew your end was right, because your works had forked no lightning and frail deed had garnered no significance.

"No, no . . ."

Contemplating, contemplating, contemplating.

You didn't want it.

"Make it stop. Make it stop . . !"

You, at heart, had already treated yourself like not of the livings. You could only consider yourself as a living corpse, a person dead to shame. This thought never made you very happy, but you realized after a moment that it was entirely to be expected that you should take this view of yourself: that from long ago, even as a child, you seemed to lack the qualifications of being a human.

Now that you harbored doubts about the one life you had ever had, you lost all comprehension of everything around you. Your only resort was to lament.

Just as you whimpered your pleading cries and buried your face on the sheets, you felt something that seized your hair.

"Thine maiden . . . Enough."

Then, even so, it had happened . . .

A man of valor had come.

You were too familiar with his voice that it instantly calmed you.

You lifted your head as you tried to see things clearly. He was crouching in front of you, whilst he held your hand securely.

"M-Mykerinos . . ." You gulped all of your broken sounds upon saying his name.

You were in complete awe as you stared at him. It had been a long time since you had seen the light in his eyes, they simply didn't vanish in the turn of events. Seeing him so mild and gentle, you could only bow your head in acquiescence.

"I rushed into thine chambers upon I heard strange noises . . ." He panned his head toward the works of your hand. "What hath happened?"

It confused you how apathetic he was about the fate of his brother, and his concern was solely on you.

"I-I . . ." Your words couldn't be expressed, for your stifles of cries were overwhelming. "My fault . . ."

Mykerinos couldn't seem to fathom how much fright you had in you as he deciphered your weary state. Your whole body was trembling. Your voice was crooked and broken. Your clothes were torn which almost left you naked. Then he saw your swollen and scarred face and stroke it dearly.

"Hath he harmed thee?" he calmly asked, cupping both of your cheeks with his hands, and wiped your tears.

You nodded redundantly, sniffing and sobbing in the process.

For a woman who could cry full of hurt that you were choking on your fears, there was no way you were lying. It raged him to the core on how much damage had his brother caused you. Although the same blood was running through his flesh, he would never forgive Isostress—brother or not, a king or not.

You, thine maiden, a sacred woman, who was worthy of veneration, entitled to be honored and adored.

Mykerinos had no idea how things happened: why his brother was in that unfortunate condition, but all he knew, you were his priority.

He understood very well how the laws circulated in this city. The king was now gone; he died in your chambers. Thus, the fault would befall on you.

He could not let that happen.

"I hath to get thee out of here." Not wasting any seconds, he stood up while untying his cloak.

It bemused you, remaining silent as you let him wore his cloak on you and put the hood over your head.

Mykerinos slipped his left arm under your legs, whilst the other one was supporting your back. As he pulled you close to him, he never seemed to want to let go of you.

Your cries had magically calmed down, yet the guilt was still being anchored on your chest. You only hid your face on his shoulder, abashed, unworthy of his help.

"Please, please . . ." you implored unto him. "Curse me, bless me, now with thy fierce anger, I pray . . ."

Mykerinos's thoughts had receded from the very day when he carried your corpse filled with regrets and remorse . . . And now, he was carrying you again. He could feel your soft breathings, your frantic heartbeats . . . Everything.

It remained a mystery how you were alive, but at that moment, at this very moment, Mykerinos never had the least of yearning to lose you again.

BITCH I LIVE !!!

and bye.

*whispers* and im not even sorry for writing this lmao. y'all have been warned since the beginning.

this lengthy chappie (almost 5k words) is so half-assed af

💩 HANDTHE;REND 💩