For the Crown | WLW

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"Am I selfish for liking her more than you, Elias?" "As much as it stings to admit it to myself, no." - Choices, choices, and choices. Royalty, such as those of Freya, Antonia, and Elias, have the most. Choices in food, people, and all material items one could desire for. But what happens when their fates are unknowingly linked together? Tying their future's down to one choice that they all must agree upon, they face this cross-road between love, responsibility, and themselves to transition into the next phase of their lives. Love or responsibility. New or home. Self or society.

Romance / Other
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

Isle Castle, Middle Sea’s Kingdom.

The hall way was quiet--not quiet as in ‘the middle of the night, with the needle-like scurrying of mice’ or the kind of quiet one would feel from being completely alone in an empty hallway in the middle of classes during school.

Surrounded by glass windows which stretched in an arch from one side of the floor to another, the torrential pitter-patter of the rain echoed within the empty structure. It was strangely comforting, like the calm sea beneath a raging storm. Or rather, riding the storm, trapped in a glass bottle.

Freya thought so. Standing in the middle of the incredibly, incredibly long hallway, her fingers tingled with anticipation for the wave. On the right lay more rows of glass hallways stretched over a turbulent sea, until the last one conjoined with the cobble and sand stone castle walls. Staring her herself through the reflection of 10 such glass hallways, each one distorting her vision more than the last Looking towards her left, the sea churned with white foams spitting like the mouth of the Charybdis.

“Or was it the Cyclops..?” She pondered, ultimately deciding that the name was irrelevant, and only the likes of her History teacher would screw their minds over it.

She was never a fan of history anyway--too many facts, too many old men and women, too many pacts, alliances, treaties, and wars.

Of course, it was amazing to know how King Menthes single-handedly beat down a group of looters to save a poor woman. After saving her from the caravan she was kidnapped in, they somehow fell in love with each other, leading them to marry a week later.

Anyway, Queen Kyra assassinated him in his sleep during their wedding night.

“Hah. Classic.”

Just a few more seconds.

And there it was--she felt the air still, the smell of burning plastic filled her nose, and the hair on her arms stood up in warning. It were all signs of warning, to run, but Freya hasn’t ever been one to take warnings seriously.

Not half a second later, lightening from the sky strikes the jutting boulder in the sea. And surely, a light crack runs down the hanging section of the rock, breaking away and plunging into the ocean. The waves, which were already quite violent in the first place, hurled towards the tube-like hallway with a terrifying speed.

She expected it to break the first few times, to be honest. But after thirteen years, the glass had yet to yield. And so it did now; the tons of water spilling over the arch and falling over the other side, while the rest cascaded down the same way. The ground vibrated in the slightest bit as it always does, while the sound of crashing waves intensified like the stomping of Haktyre dancers.

And fin. Just as it had come quickly, it cleared out of the way even faster.

Freya suddenly felt an icy-coldness spread across her palms, as she realized she had walked towards the glass and pressed her self against it. She scanned the entire surface of the glass panel in front of her, looking for a scratch, graze, anything.

But to no avail--the glass was simply too strong. It looked down on her like the first time she went down the hallway by herself, at the age of 6, with silver gilded battlements gleaming like knives. The first time she saw the waves, she had ran away shrieking and hoping the structure wouldn’t crumble behind her.

She likes to think of the glass and her as equals now.

“Not a scratch on either of us, huh? Well--not exactly my feet are as pristine as Miss. Shelly’s china, they’re not exactly!” She muttered to herself brokenly, speed-walking down the hallway while scrutinizing her feet at the same time. Needless to say, there were plenty of colorful curses as she collided more than once into the walls.

“Absolute mother f--learn from the glass tube--” she hissed, before climbing the rotating stairs and up the stone watch tower. The mossy black stairs, worn and slippery from constantly being sprayed by salt-water made the climb more exhilarating than necessary.

But Freya knew where to step. Years upon years of climbing this flight almost daily created shallow indents within the surface of the stone, providing her a way to gain some traction. She was sure that she could climb the stairs blind-folded at this point, but knowing her clumsiness she thought it would be advisable to not do so.

After all, it would be kind of ridiculous that I died while climbing stairs when I’ve done much worse, she giggled to herself, before feeling her polished shoes actually slip. The sudden feeling of floating jolted her arms into action, prompting her to claw at the walls before her nails managed to dig into one of the brick stones.

“Exactly my point!” She spoke out loud to herself exasperatedly, firmly bundling up the grey cotton of her navy blue robe which pooled around her feet. And off she went, carefully scaling 10 stories of stairs.

Reaching the top, she pushed on the wooden trap door above her head before clambering out of it. And just as she managed to get the rest of her foot from it, a shrill shout rang out. Looking up, she sees Sadia clutching onto her hijab as she runs down the open balcony towards her.

“What are you doing out here in this horrible storm?” She exclaims, clammy fingers clutching onto Freya’s wrist and dragging her inside.

Freya stumbles behind her, struggling to keep up with the pace of Sadia’s long legs.

“I wasn’t outside. I was down the eleventh glass hall, you know I always am.” She replied, taking in Sadia’s sharp features, albeit a bit worn down from age.

Sadia wasn’t old in the least. She did look 35, but held herself with such poise and straight-backed-ness that almost rivaled her mother’s. Almost regal. Especially her eyes, the color of freshly ground coffee beans that startled anyone up from one glance.

And they narrowed even more, with a bit of exasperation and less frustration.

“What is with you and that place? You haunt that place like a ghost!”

“It’s just...really pretty. Very. You would know if you came down there.”

“Nobody except you does! Why don’t you just use the outer-path to get to the other side? It’s much faster. Who knows when it’ll break. ” Sadia pressed, changing from a death grip to a safe hold.

“It hasn’t for the past...what, 50 years? There’s not a single scratch on the glass. Nill. I don’t think it’s going to break just like that.“Freya clipped back.

Sadia stared back at her, silence hanging in the hair between them. Slowly, her jaw relaxed and her eyebrows rose and fell with sigh. In resolution, and a daily reminder of Freya’s determination, stubbornness even. One would expect her to get used to the finality and “I said so” behind Freya’s eyes, but it surprises her all the same as when she first met her. It’s hard to imagine that such plain, text-book shade of light brown can be so expressive.

Shaking her head, she ran her thumb over the tiny freckles littered all over Freya’s hand before wiping down the water with a silk handkerchief. “Your mother is calling you. Go quickly.”

Freya’s eyes picked up at the mention of her mother, quickly nodding before bolting out of the room through the main door , her cloak and black curls bellowing behind her like wild date tree leaves.

’It’s a quality...and a fault.”Sadia concluded, wiping down her own hands thoroughly and making a mental note to drop it off at the launderers.


AN:and..yeah. That’s it, so far. Let me know how it was !

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