Married to the Blood King

"Baby, aren't you going to school?" my mum, sitting on the kitchen floor with her legs stretched out and a red hand fan in her hand, asked me.

She fanned herself to cool off sweat covering her body, her voice filled with a gentle longing that made me feel the weight of her unspoken worries. Baby has always been my nickname; my real name is Kimberly Martins, but I can't remember the last time my mum called me that. Since she gave birth to me, she has always called me her baby. Her reason was that I reminded her of her late husband, who was my father.

I didn't get to see my father , as he passed away before I turned two, but it was as if I could feel his presence through my mum's stories. She described him as tall, fair, and very handsome man with curly hair that shimmered in the sunlight, a deep, soothing voice, and striking blue eyes that seemed to hold secrets.

To me, all these sounded like a fairy tale prince, who I wasn't sure existed. Well, it wasn't my fault to think that way because I have never seen a man tall, fair in complexion, with curly hair, and a set of blue eyes. If there were such a man, then he would be very handsome indeed. Moreover, the funny part was that the person my mum described and the man I later saw in a picture as my father were nothing alike. I didn't see any tall, fair, six-foot man that my mom mentioned.

But truthfully, all I could see was true love. My mum loved my late father so much, like how Romeo and Juliet loved each other, and I knew it hadn't been easy for her to move on. But she still has me, and I thought we would live happily.

We lived in a dangerous kingdom called Polaris, a place so terrifying that words like 'scary' don't do it justice.

It's a land no one dares to visit for vacation, let alone live in. Many tremble at its name. The leaders were corrupt and cruel, treating citizens like slaves, with killings, rape, and abuse as daily horrors that define our existence. The streets were riddled with shadows, and the air thick with fear, making Polaris a place where hope was a distant memory.

Unfortunately, the pretty ladies were not left out; the majority were molested, raped, and even killed. Some were forced to get married to the king or the palace guards, who were old enough to be their father and very ugly at the same time. In fact, being pretty in Polaris was like a curse, and I was among the people who bore that curse.

I had this natural, long, black hair, which every lady wished for, a flat tummy, a long, pointed nose, and, to crown it all, I was created with blue eyes and long lashes that matched my personality. It was as if God took time to create me. I wasn't that busty , but I was created with a curvy backside, standing and yet pointed breasts, which matched my flat tummy.

Talking about complexion, I was fair and had this fresh skin that looked like the early-morning sunshine. However, to crown it all, I was average , 160 cm, a good height for a lady like me. I wouldn't boast, but I was every man's obsession, and because of it, my mum didn't always let me outside for the fear of been molested by the guards, who wouldn't think twice before devouring me. This made me wish I was very ugly, ugly to an extent that I would be avoided as if I was suffering from leprosy.

At that time in Polaris, there was war. It was a serious one, people were killed like chicken on daily basis, and no one knew the cause of this war, the leaders who were meant to lead us, protect us and guide us, didn't do their duties well, they never said anything to us, nor even told us the reason behind the war, to get ourselves prepared, they left us to die and do away wiith the remaining people who survived.

This war resulted in hunger and starvation in the city. You can hardly find food or water. The stream we normally fetch our water from had dried out, and it was as if God had even forsaken us too , cursing us with drought. Majority of the farmers in the other hand , suffered from infertile soil, making it hard to grow food for us . While the ones who had fertile soil were too afraid to go out due to the fear of stray bullets hitting them from above .

My mum and I had no choice but to go with the flow; we ran when we saw others running, ate mostly nuts, and slept with our eyes open in case of any attack at night. That was the kind of life we had in Polaris. Nobody was safe; everyone lived in fear, anger, pain, hunger, and frustration.

Moreover, I still went to school, despite the situation. The school was free to attend, and the only payment was to perform well. Then there is this juicy offer, which was my main aim of enrolling in the school. Once you pass your examinations, you will be awarded a scholarship to study in another country, and you will be allowed to take just two of your family members to the country. Isn't that an opportunity for me to leave Polaris?

I studied every day, morning, afternoon, night, and mid-morning hoping that someday I would be free.

On that fateful morning, I had woken up with a sharp pain in my stomach, which stopped me from preparing and going to school. It was so bad that I couldn't tell if it was hunger or illness. I was manly on the bed and only managed to get up to drink some water when I saw my mum sitting and fanning herself with pain written all over her face.

Although I tried to hide the pain, but she still figured out that I was so sick , and she made me lay down back to go in search for some herbs. Since, the doctors were no where to find. Little did I know it was going to be our last actual interaction.

She was about to step out of the house in search of the herb when we heard some noise outside. At that time, we couldn't figure out what it was or where it was coming from, so we just stood still, trying to understand what the sound was.

After some seconds of opening our ears wide, and listening carefully without moving our body or shuffling our legs not to get distracted, we understood what was happening, it was a gunshot and slowly mixed with the voices of people shouting, crying, and running helter-skelter as usual, but this time more serious and closer to us.

I became so scared. I guess my stomach understood the situation as well because the pain immediately stopped. Perfect remedy I guess.... Confused and sacred, My mum dragged me by hand, and together we ran into our room and hid under the bed.

The gunshots drew nearer and nearer to our house. At first, I thought they were going to pass our compound, but they didn't. I knew this because we heard some footsteps in our sitting room , which was a stone's throw from our room. Only then did I understand the gravity of the shit we were in.

Hot urine rushed out from my Virginia, down to the red panties that I was putting on. I am 22 years old, at least I forgot to say, and you can imagine a 22-year-old lady peeing on herself.

Who cares anyway? I was in a situation I couldn't even get out of, and I don't know what to do or how to handle it. I looked at my mum and found her eyes closed; she was probably praying with her shaking hands. She, too, was afraid.

I decided to join her, which I did, only that my eyes were not closed. My eyes refused to close; I tried, but they didn't obey me. "Like, how did my mum manage to close her eyes in that situation?" I asked myself between prayers. This question didn't have an answer. The sound came again, and this time, it was at our room door, the one we were hiding in. I heard it open widely and rudely I would say.

"Search every corner, I have a feeling that some people are hiding here, and don't forget to search the beds and under them," someone said.

"Oh God," I cursed that voice from my hiding place, "may you never know peace." I knew we were doomed; hot tears streamed down my face, most of them landing in my mouth, while others flowed down my body. I had to lick the tears that reached my lips, and their salty taste reminded me of my despair. I didn't want to die yet; it wasn't my time.

Still, I refused to let myself be captured by them. I knew how they tortured people before killing them, and I didn't want to endure that kind of death.

"We found someone! Oh, there are even two," a voice exclaimed.

This statement snapped me back to reality. I slowly turned my head to see a pair of eyes, clearly filled with anger and hatred, staring menacingly at us. I felt a chill run down my spine; they had finally seen us.

We emerged from our hiding place, and immediately, my mom dropped to her knees, pleading with them not to hurt me. I felt a deep sense of pity for her as I watched her desperately trying to secure my safety in those final moments.

More tears streamed down my face; if I could have found a way to kill those people, I would have done it, regardless of the consequences. Fear and anger consumed me. One of the three individuals present pulled out a gun, pointed it at my forehead, and then instructed my mom to share her last words with me.

I had seen scenes like this in movies, where characters are told to say their final prayers or share their last words with loved ones before facing the end. I often found myself cursing such villains in my mind for terrorising innocent people. But I had never imagined I would find myself in a situation like this, nor had I ever attempted to act it out like a scene from a play.

Yet here I was today, trapped in this tragic scene, without anyone to voice my curses against them. It seemed I was about to die right in front of my mother, who had already lost her husband. I cried out like a child, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the moment they would pull the trigger.

"Hold on, don't shoot them," I guess that was their leader talking, because they immediately obeyed him, making a way for him to come closer to where I was. He came closer to me, then forcefully turned my face toward him. "Look at me," he ordered.

I quickly looked up, staring at him. When I met his eyes, I felt fear wash over me. I was afraid earlier, but the fear upgraded; my whole body froze, and I felt intimidated.

I couldn't see his whole face because it was covered . He had a mask on, but his set of eyes which I looked into was blue and I could confess his aura was very strong , just the way my mum described my father: tall and very muscular.

"Take them to our chambers, and don't hurt any of them, she is too pretty to be killed," he said after looking and analysing me for some seconds.