Resting in Pieces | shorts

Sampaguita knew the prince her country worshipped was no more than a scoundrel destined to ruin the kingdom.

She used to love him, for he was such a charismatic, seemingly-down to earth man with eyes that the local newspaper described as "the vast blur sea on the sunniest day in summer, reflecting the light of the heavens".

She used to agree to that bold, bold statement.

Now, sitting beside the man that the newspaper described, she knew that his eyes were anything but bright. They were terrible but beautiful, corrupted with lies. But yet his face was the epitome of the old fashioned definition of beauty- a chiseled jaw of the Gods, a straight nose above tinted lips that sang sweet, saccharine lies.

He had too much blood on his hands to be fit to become her husband, let alone her king.

Alexander sat next to her, unknowing that his doting bride was plotting his demise. He sipped wine the colour of his brother's blood as he laughed at his mother-in-law's jokes.

Sampaguita picked up her fork and knife and continued eating, the image of feminine submission.

Soon after, the happy couple were in their chamber, alone for the first time. They climbed into bed: the prince of darkness, the princess of shadows.

"Goodnight, Prince." Sampaguita felt Alexander's weight on the mattress, a warm body next to hers. Her voice was clipped.

"Good night, Princess." Then the lights were turned off, darkness enveloping the couple.

She awoke to a knife on her throat. Alexander kneeled over her, holding the hilt of the knife so tight that his knuckles were turning white.

"Why was there a pistol strapped to your thigh?" The prince growled, pressing the knife harder against her throat.

"The same reason why you're holding a knife against my throat." Sampaguita stayed still.

She paused, Alexander looking at her with a questioning expression on his marble face. She saw, through the prince's ocean eyes, something that she's never seen before.

"Fear."