Awake, Again
She woke with an almost ghostlike quality, limbs moving barely an inch, her breaths shallow and her heartbeat steady. She woke from her slumber with small, almost imperceptible movements, although she knew they had undoubtedly been noticed by another. She hoped, however, that somehow, this time, she had succeeded in waking without rousing his attention. Annika quietly acknowledged, with a sigh unheard, that once again she found herself in a different bed from the one where she had laid her head. Being a deep sleeper, it perturbed her to realize that she could be touched and relocated so freely while unconscious. Undoubtedly, she had been moved numerous times during the past eight or so hours. The bed on which she had drifted into slumber earlier had been adorned in rich greens and glistening golds, reflecting the late sunlight. In contrast, the bed she now occupied was embellished in silver and lilacs. The size of the bed, like everything else in this place, overwhelmed her, making her feel minuscule, akin to a bug under a microscope, forever at the mercy of others. Or rather, the mercy of one.
As soon as she had the thought, his voice sounded out, jolting her from her daydream. “Annika”, he growled, impatiently. He had noticed then, of course he had, he always did. It was a remarkable ability he held, both terrifying and mesmerizing, to perceive even the most subtle changes in the atmosphere. She pondered whether it was her breathing that gave her away, or perhaps her heartbeat, though she wouldn’t dare ask, nor did she have the capability. With the swiftness of a startled mouse, she gracefully descended from the expansive mattress, akin to an ocean rather than a mere bed. Slipping through the layers of delicate tulle and silk that formed an enchanting canopy concealing her from view, she hastened towards his side, the crackling fire within the hearth being her footfall’s sole accompaniment. The room’s identity had been divulged to her through the bed’s lavish furnishings alone. The private dining room. One purely for her master’s sole use. And now, hers as well. He did not entertain others in this space as he did in the many other dining rooms beheld in this keep. Grateful for awakening within these familiar walls, she was spared the scrutiny that inevitably accompanied her presence in the company of others.
With her head bowed, she approached, her attention fixed on the icy sensation enveloping her exposed feet as she hurried across the stone floor. She endured this discomfort, lacking any footwear since her arrival in this peculiar realm. Throughout her life, the term “realm” had merely been associated with fictional settings found within books and television shows. It still felt peculiar, even when used solely within her thoughts, to label this place as a realm, yet no other word seemed suitable. Undoubtedly, it was not Earth; that much was certain. The sights she had witnessed in this place only further reinforced the aptness of the description. This land was far from ordinary, its denizens equally so. Above all, its ruler, her master, stood as the epitome of peculiarity.
She stood before his seated form, shivering slightly, not yet warmed by the fires blaze. She wrapped her arms around her waist and discreetly tucked her feet into the folds of her dress, to ward off the chill, noting, as always, that it had changed too since she was last awake. The gown was fashioned from a fabric reminiscent of silk, adorned with a delicate overlay of turquoise tulle. Meticulously crafted, the bodice enveloped her breasts, transitioning into a translucent white layer that accentuated her slender waist, embellished with opulent gold trim and adorned with small blue and purple gemstones. The fabric shifted back to its original turquoise hue, cascading in gentle tiers down to her feet. The sleeves, composed of the same blue material, capped at her shoulders before descending into delicate belle sleeves. It was not uncomfortable at all, although it hugged her body in a way that made her feel exposed.
The silence wrapped around her, making her shiver even more. She hated his silence, it made her feel uncomfortable. Even if she did not understand his language nor he hers, she much preferred it when he spoke. She had learned to divulge his mood from the tone of his voice moreover than his face. His face was an impenetrable mask that discerned not even the slightest emotion. His voice, however, was much more lenient.
Relief flooded her as he began to speak, her tense posture easing, her grip on herself loosening. He pinched her chin between his fingers as he forced her to meet his gaze. She bit her lip as her eyes focused on his.
God, he was beautiful.
She should have been desensitised to his beauty by now but somehow she still became breathless at the sight of him. His eyes, a fusion of darkness and luminosity, resembled molten gold encircled by a delicate ring of obsidian. His sun-kissed complexion, akin to bronze, accentuated her own alabaster skin, rendering it even more delicate by comparison. His long black hair was tied back at his nape by a band of gold, cascading down like the flow of ink from a pen. Possessing prominent cheekbones and a pair of bold, jet-black brows, his countenance exuded an aura of unyielding strength. Indeed, his physique appeared as if it were hewn from the very essence of stone - broad and unshakeable. But what truly astounded her was not his towering height, for he must have been nearing seven feet while she stood at a mere five foot five, but rather his teeth. Like pristine ivory, they appeared flawlessly aligned, but she doubted he had ever endured the anguish of orthodontic braces during his formative years, as she had. His elongated canines possessed a menacing sharpness, evoking a sense that he could effortlessly tear her throat out, should he so desire. When he smiled, as rare as it was, it bore an ominous resemblance to a predatory wolf, poised to consume its hapless prey.
His grip on her chin shifted then, transitioning from a pinching grip to a light caress as he held her cheek in his palm. She nuzzled into it, aching with relief at the small contact. He scared her, terrified her beyond belief but whenever he touched her, the world seemed to come to a complete standstill. His golden eyes narrowed with pleasure as she leaned further into his hand, soaking up his warmth. He nodded at the chair to the right of his as he withdrew his hand, a single word ringing out. She took it as the command it was meant to be and seated herself, already feeling the chill in her bones return.
He spoke again and this time, Annika, knew it wasn't her he addressed as his voice took on a deeper, more commanding quality. Servants seemed to materialise from the shadows in a flurry of activity as they began laying out a spread of food. The food here wasn’t entirely different from Earth. There was meat, spectacular birds and roasting pigs, yoghurt, honey and cheese, but there were also other strange vegetables and fruits she couldn’t name. A cylindrical purple and red fruit was her most recent discovery and she wasted no time grabbing one from the platter and handing it over to her master. It was sour, like a kiwi but with a subtle green apple-like taste mixed with cinnamon. God, she missed green apples so much. What she wouldn't do for an apple crumble.
She had taken to calling it lobster fruit due to its hard, red outer shell, however, diamond fruit might’ve been a more apt description as there was still a crack on the edge of the wooden table from the one and only time she had attempted to open it herself. Her master, however, opened it with ease, scooping the fleshy purple insides into a bowl. He added yoghurt and honey as well as some grapes and some other strange fruits that Annika didn’t enjoy as much but he never failed to add. She had tried to protest their addition once but the look he had given her had welded her to her seat, stealing the breath from her lungs. She supposed that they were nutritious in some way and that was why he wanted her to have them but his ‘because I said so’ look was much more fear-inducing than any she had received before.
She hadn’t protested again.
She took the bowl from him with a slight grimace before digging in. The orange chunks were her least favourite and she strongly suspected they weren’t a fruit at all but some kind of savoury vegetable that had no business being mixed with honey and yoghurt.
They were both silent, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the scraping, clinking sound of metal and ceramic as Annika ate. It was night once more and she let out a sigh, dreading the long hours of darkness ahead. The days here were much different to those on earth. The days stretched longer and so, too did the night. She had no clock to go by and she had never been adept at science or mathematics or any other subject that would probably be useful in discerning more about this place and its strange properties. If she had to guess though, she would estimate that instead of the day lasting twenty four hours like it would on earth, it lasted somewhere between forty eight- sixty four hours instead, meaning that one day here was around three earth days. The night lasted just as long. So overall, one complete rotation of whatever planet she found herself on equalled somewhere between six or eight earth days. She had no way of refining her knowledge beyond that, however. She had tried to count the hours once, desperate for structure in a place that defied reason.
But time was just another thing she’d lost here—like control, like choice, like home.
All that was left of the attempt were two dozen tally marks scratched into the headboards of three different beds and a cold sense of helplessness that she was sure her very bones bore bruises of.
