DARK ONE SHOTS | 18+ - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Francesca jumped in fright when she found her Aunt Elise sitting in her bed, her wrinkled features reflecting the graveness of situation.
"Where were you Francesca?" her dark voice sent the shivers down her spine. She was never the gentle one.
Sweat broke Francesca's forehead as she looked down, embarrassed. Never in the entirety of the past year she was caught expediting through her window until tonight, the last night she had would have ever done it.
"Do you think everyone around you is fool?" her voiced boomed across the chamber.
Francesca backed to the wall when Aunt Elise took threatening steps towards her.
"What is his name?"
Francesca finally looked in the eyes of tall woman, terrified by her knowledge.
"What is his name Francesca?" Elise's voice rose.
"He's....he's a...a... good man" she stuttered, already assuming wrath.
Francisca only saw the shocked face of her Aunt before a stinging slap sent her to the floor. It was the first time she was slapped, and then beaten when she denied to stop meeting him. Although it was the last night she had seen him, she was adamant on being defiant.
Aunt Elise had raised the motherless Princess of Quador, teaching her all the things a lady must know. But as the cards flipped overnight, Princess had fallen in love with a barbarian, claiming him as her future husband.
Francesca lived a hard life the following year. She was imprisoned in her own room like a culprit. Had she confessed her sins of allowing him to touch her, she was sure to be treated like a slave. But she had not. Some things she had locked in her heart and wept only in the privacy of her thoughts.
Her father became as if a distant memory, rarely conversing with her like a loving father he used to be. Every time he would see her face, he would get reminded of her reckless actions, dipping his pride in a river of shame. And so he had avoided her all together, forcing her to keep acquaintance of princes.
But it wasn't the only reason why the kind of Quador had became distant. There were other reasons, more severe than Francesca's affair ever could be.
Army of Alcazar was conquering kingdoms one after another, quickly closing the distance with Quador. He was busy preparing an impregnable architecture to battle the ways of Alcazar. Not that Quador already stood strongest in the world, with an army of four hundred thousand and mighty infrastructure enough to handle an army double their size, but Alcazar had not lost a war since the emergence of Antoninus centuries ago.
It was the same reason why Francesca had read the history of Alcazar, learning everything about them to comprehend their principles. And the more she read, horrifyingly she understood, that their principles, were no principles at all. When it came to war, they respected no rules, no limits, no boundaries. Where the rest of the world's cruelty ended, Alcazar's violence only began.
She had to skip pages to avoid detailed descriptions of their ways of interrogation and torture. Their pleasure resided in gore, rapes and malevolence, everything that Quador dissented. They ensured their acquired kingdoms suffered, serving as slaves to the masters of Alcazar at best. Women were auctioned, children were slaughtered and men were enslaved, used for the means of building their gothic empire on the bodies of innocent.
The valley Devontae was once the most prosperous kingdoms in the world, today it was only the graveyard of Alcazar- bereft of a happy soul, solely recognised as the home of tombstones of kings pushed from the mountains.
It was worrisome how no one could win against them. Regardless of how Francesca was not involved in the way her father planned the defense, she was aware their preparation lacked. Alcazar had the advantage of being unpredictable. It was the common tactic they had used to invade every kingdom, Quador's downside was not knowing what it was.
Just as they anticipated Alcazar closed on their boundaries in less than half a year, not showing any signs of malicious intention, only building preliminary camps outside their boundaries, virtually appearing harmless.
And on one unpredictable day, a man was allowed inside the gates. He had called himself the messenger of Alcazar, demanding to meet the king himself. He was ensured to be devoid of weapons before being allowed in the throne room. Francesca had insisted her way into the room, intrigued to know what the messenger had brought.
Surely enough he had conveyed a message no one would have anticipated, not even in their dreams, of an opportunity to rescind the war, Parley.
Francesca had gasped, unable to hide her surprise catching the attention of messenger who had given a brief moment of his attention, his expressions not even as dynamic as dead body.
Francesca had no doubt this time, Alcazar's unforeseen move would be this meeting. Its king had never be so kind to arrange a meeting of negotiation before, but if he had, it was only because it was one of his moves out of the several ones yet to come.
She was afraid for parley to turn out to be dangerous. She had warned her father, begging him to reconsider this meeting since it could backfire on any given moment, but he hadn't listened. He wasn't to be blamed. From what his resources had gathered, Alcazar had an army of ten thousand hundred soldiers, with technology that Quador's hadn't even heard of. War was never an encouraging action, it was always the devastating end, of someone's life, and someone else's hunger of power, either way, it brought destruction and destruction alone. And so Francesca had agreed to keep her mouth shut on the condition that she shall be present during the supposed negotiation too. King had agreed after hours of convincing, realising that his daughter was just as haughty, there could be winning to even king of Alcazar but not to his own blood.
King of Alcazar had agreed to arrange the meeting inside Quador's palace. If anyone had or had not, the barbarian king had done his homework. He was aware of Quador's policy of treating guests. As long as he was acknowledged as their guest, he was promised to be safe.
He felt fearless when he rode inside the boundaries of Quoder, accompanied by his trusted warriors. The morning sunlight bathed them in confidence when they got off their black horses, all black, complimenting their white Anglo-Saxons except for his, which were as dark as the night of new moon. His height stood across his dozen men as they walked in sync, their strides long, their heads up, attracting the attention of even bowing servants.
Francesca stood beside aunt Elise who was ordered by king to attend to keep Francesca company. She kept herself as hidden as possible, not intending to get noticed. The unusual strides of strong men vibrated across the palace long before they entered and no matter how much the ministers of Quoder had anticipated being intimidated, they weren't prepared for the storm the king of Alcazar carried with himself.
The bellowing of footman's voice sent chills across people's skins, Francesca not being the only one.
"Antoninus the third, the king of Alcazar"
The name rung a bell in her head, and when his frame entered the room, everything clicked in place, thousands of pieces falling apart. She took a step back, shaking her head, denying the truth her eyes told.
She didn't recognise him by his black armour fitting him like a second skin, his muscles that had bulged more prominently than they did before, his height belittling the room. Neither did she recognise him by the colour of his tan skin that he had earned from the months of battle under the scorching son. His face bore a beard of pride, the symbol of victory as Antoninus the first had called it. It added into his rugged features, emphasizing on the rough man that he was renowned around the world as.
She only identified his eyes. Black eyes.
He was Edrick, her Edrick. The man that had claimed his love for her, the same king that was now a devastating threat to her kingdom.
"A true king never asks for respect, he simply receives it" her father had whispered in her ear in an annual ball three years ago, advising on what kind of man she must look for. And now that he had blessed the walls with his presence, she witnessed the power for the first time, feeling anything but impressed. He didn't notice her when he walked into the premise, immediately earning the bows of ministers spanning, his thunderous aura pulling a freezing cloak on a sunny morning.
"Your highness" his deep voice reverberated in the pin drop silence, a tear trickled down her cheek at the feeling of betrayal, the very reality now seeming a nightmare. She gulped the increasing tightness in her throat, realising there were matters more pressing than her worthless heartbreak.
"Very warm welcome king Antoninus, take a seat if you may" King of Quodor attempted to sound respectful despite the fact that it seemed insulting to pay regards to a ruthless king half his age.
"Thankyou for your kindness but I do not wish to indulge in this matter for long, shall we wrap the agreement swiftly if his highness permits?"
The request was as shocking as intriguing.
"If that is what you wish"
"I do not wish to strike Quodor your highness, although, as you may already know I surely am capable of. Our proficiency, technology and numbers fly way above yours, or of any kingdom for that matter"
"How kind of you King Antoninus" Francesca's father didn't allow the mockery to escape his tone, "However we also do realise your kindness must be coming with a cost. It'd be our honour to understand what it is, sooner than later"
Antoninus smiled, his dark features not allowing his twisted intentions to be suppressed inside.
"I am delighted we are not wasting time. The cost is my queen your highness. I ask for permission to marry your cherished daughter, Princess Francesca"
Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't see him as his back faced the congregation, addressing the king and king alone, as everyone now realised Antoninus the third had an extremely personal agenda, or rather a threatening intimidation to present.
If it wasn't for Aunt Elise's strong hold on Francesca's hands, she would have already absconded the premises, she had no intentions of standing a moment longer in his suffocating presence. Aunt Elise's could understand Francesca's turmoil. Princess hadn't looked at another man for the barbarian she had fallen for an year ago, therefore when a king asked for her hand, Francesca wanted to deny. It was precisely why Elise did not allow Francesca to portray her poor skills at being a lady, not leaving her hand when she most wanted to leave. "Behave" she had sneered angrily in her ears, ignoring the rivers of tears falling down her cheeks.
Only if Elise knew that Antoninus was indeed the barbarian that Francesca had fallen for, she would have let her go. But for the twisted reasons of fate, everything happened just the way it was not supposed to.
The king looked bewildered. Never in his wildest dreams he had imagined a king so powerful to have approached him this blatantly, for a matter so sensitive. He looked across the throne room to gaze upon his daughter, finding her on the boundary of shattering, and then back to the king of Alcazar, who did not look even slightly unperturbed, as if he hadn't just asked for a piece of king's heart.
Francesca's father did not know why the king of Alcazar wanted to marry his daughter, someone that he had never even seen or known, but he had surely comprehended one thing, this wasn't a proposal that he expected a denial from. It was all in its beautifully wrapped glory, a blackmail, a threat that had millions of lives on the line.
"I..." the king chose his words wisely, "I am honoured by your proposal your highness but I am not in the position of making her choice. She must be in peace with your-"
"Allow me to have a meeting with Princess Francesca. Once she knows what a gentleman I am, she would be glad to become the queen of my Alcazar"
"NOOO" Francesca could not hold her fury back, wiggling out of the hold of her aging Aunt, she appeared in the middle of the room, attracting the attention of all eyes present, their eyes wide at the audacity of princess in the presence of such dangerous man.
When his gaze found her after months of painful await, a strange glimpse of joy found on his visage, his eyes twinkling in appreciation, her chaotic state appearing of little importance.
"I would never marry a demon like you!" her voice boomed in the silent throne room, few gasps were heard from the corner, the King himself standing upright, taken aback by the outrageous behaviour of his daughter. His warriors immediately assumed a threatening stance, alarmed by her audacious language, infuriated that their king was insulted this way.
Only Antoninus seemed amused, anything but offended, not taking her outrage for an actual insult. He couldn't control swiping his thumb over his lower lip, unimaginably pleased to hear her voice again.
He knew conversing her with at the moment was fruitless, who really held the strings was their king. So even when he wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her till she drained, he moved his eyes off her, looking back at the king.
"I would like to converse with her in a private setting. This is rather an inappropriate circumstance, she seems afraid-"
"No one is afraid of you, you barbaric monst-" She screamed.
He watched as an older woman came out of nowhere, pressing her hand on his princess' mouth, immediately shutting her up. Two soldiers joined the efforts, trying to carry Francesca out of the premise, causing the least embarrassment possible.
He watched as her soft skin bruised by the brutal hold of elder woman, the soldier's hand reddening her skin. It was all it took for his eyes to darken. He memorised their faces, absorbing them as the people who hurt his queen, reminding himself to cut their throats when he was in power to.
The king agreed to let Antoninus meet his supposedly crazy daughter. No matter how confused King was as to why Antoninus still had interest in a woman who had openly insulted him in the congregation, he had no other choice.
The war was bay, the lives were on line, and it was all in the hands of the decision of Princess Francesca.