In life, there will always be people inevitably more beautiful than others. Some people you need to get to know before you see their true beauty, but the world still sees with different eyes. All of us want to see beautiful people; whether or not we acknowledge or even realize that that is what we are doing. We see false idols in these people in whom we often seem to exalt. Little girls choose their favorite princess; which one has longer hair or a more flawless face?
Long ago, there lived a woman who possessed great beauty far above any known in the land. She was the prize jewel of her parents, naturally, as an only daughter she was the apple of her parents’ eyes. She grew up in a somewhat rich home, the daughter of a duke; yet, she always dreamt for much more. One day, Azelia got what she had always desired: a chance at eternal wealth and what appeared to be great happiness. Finally, she would receive what she had always desired. King Jonathon of Château Des Ténèbres desired to marry the most beautiful woman in all the land, and Azelia Pendragon was the one who caught his eye. The wedding was held as soon as possible and the beginning of Azelia’s dream life was to begin. However, for every ideal and wondrous dream, there is a very, very rude awakening.
Years passed by and Azelia enjoyed what seemed to be the life she had always desired. King Jonathon kissed her on the forehead and told her how much he loved her and how beautiful he thought she was on a daily basis. Then one night, things took an unexpected turn for Azelia when she awoke by a painful bump in the road inside a carriage taking her away from the castle she called her home. She looked around, confused and hysterical, only seeing the dark woods around her. Every horrid, black tree seemed to either scowl at her or laugh in pity as the pale beams from the moon cried down on her long, raven-like hair. She stumbled to the other side of the carriage to see who was leading her away into this misty, obscure dusk. Her long fingernails dug deeply into the cushions behind the coachman.
Balancing herself on her knees as she placed her hand on the thin, maroon curtain behind whoever was driving, she pulled her body through and pounced on the figure she felt beyond the drape. A thunk came from the man’s armor as they fell hard unto piles of gravel and stone. The queen wrapped her bleeding legs around the cold armor of this man and ripped off his helmet. She threw it aside and grabbed the freckled man by the head of his dusty, dirty brown hair.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed, pulling harder on the young man’s hair. The young man just panted and squinted his eyes shut. “Answer your queen!” She yelled and smacked the man across the face with the back of her hand, leaving scrapes and scratches from the large diamond and jeweled rings on each of her fingers. The servant wailed in pain, and the queen lifted her hand up once more and gave a look of horror that implied she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.
“The king!” he finally shouted out and looked into the plum-colored eyes of his queen. Her thin eyebrows creased in confusion and she bit her bottom lip, making it appear even fuller and rosier when she released it to reply.
“What about him?” She griped, vexing tears beginning to swell in her almond-shaped eyes. She blinked her long eyelashes to hold them back as she listened to his reply.
“He wanted me to take you somewhere--,”
“Where!” She shrieked, interrupting the now bleeding servant.
“He wanted me to bring you to the tower,” he quickly responded, squinting his eyes once more. Queen Azelia scowled, still confused but now with a sense of denial arising in her mind.
“What tower?” She muttered but the boy shook his head.
“I cannot tell you, my queen, I need to follow the orders of—,”
“Tell me!” She howled and shook him violently until he finally screamed and replied.
“He found a woman more beautiful than you, my queen,” he squeaked. The queen dropped him and the back of his armor made another loud noise against the hard ground. She pursed her lips and bit her tongue. The servant continued softly, frightened, “He wanted to get rid of you without a scene and without killing you, so he told me to bring you to the tower. No one knows of it but King Jonathon and now you and me.” Fire sparked in the queen’s eyes, lit in her heart, and began searing down her veins. She got up on her feet and placed one foot on the man’s chest.
“Well then,” she calmly replied, “I just cannot let that happen now, can I?” She raised one eyebrow and lowered her body, placing her blood-red lips against the man’s freckled ear and whispered, “I will have to borrow your suit.” She then viciously kicked the man in the face and knocked him unconscious. She gave herself a satisfied half-smile and proceeded to take the man’s armor and put it on herself.
She placed the now muddy helmet onto her head, hopped onto the carriage, called out to the horses, and whipped them to go back towards the Château Des Ténèbres.