sativa: (Nano - because I can)
[personal profile] sativa posting in [community profile] snippets
Title: Prologue
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Wordcount: 438


She walked, one slippered foot sliding out in front of the other as she stiffened every muscle. The tug and pull of newly formed skin on back was a lance against the dread weighing down her belly. She walked, stepping forward as the weight of cloth tugged back her back, clinging to the smooth stone of the grand hall, the murmur of courtiers whispering around her like fingers poking at a curiosity.

She walked.

Her body was held straight through sheer dint of will as she focused her gaze on a distant horizon, at the man sitting at on a throne at the end of a dais. He was half covered by a curtain, more shadow then form, but still, she stared.

She grimaced, fighting to smooth the pain from her brow as she fell a bit too heavy on her foot, the edge of her robes catching on the edge of her slipper. She still marched on, swaying lightly on her feet as waves of dizziness made her lightheaded.

But it was past time that she walked down this hall. Any longer and the others would start to talk (in truth, had already been talking by the way the crowd gossiped). She thrust all such thoughts to the side, unable (unwilling) to focus on what might have been, focusing instead on what must be.

The hall was long, but that was no excuse for not walking it.

She knelt, careful to keep her back straight as she folded to her knees in front of the dais, showing respect where respect was due.

This was her king.

This was her sovereign.

In truth, this was her husband to be.

She clenched her teeth, bowing over her hands as her back screamed in protest as her wounds threatened to break anew. It had been only a fortnight. Time enough to heal but not time enough to recover. But it had been too long.

Breathing, fighting to keep her breaths shallow against the coolness radiating up from the stone, she suddenly felt the touch of a hand against her head and the warm rumble of a voice whispering in her ear just loud enough for the whole hall to hear.

“Rise, Lady Amagia. You are our wife after all.”

And while the crowd gasped (as if they didn’t know), she felt her stomach hit the floor and tears sting her eyes as she raised her head and finally looked at the man who would be her husband.

Because from this day forth, Isa was no more. She was dead, buried in the forest some two weeks past.
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