The undead princess

Z

Z'Greel

Guest
Original poster
There was once a kingdom with a princess so beautiful, she had suitors at every hour, and even more men who never even dared approach her, either due to their standing in the kingdom or their profession.
Yet the princess rejected them all, as she knew she was not for the world for long. When she was very young she had gotten sick. The king's healers had tried their best, yet they knew she would die in her twenties. And they were right. One morning, she never woke up.
The whole kingdom was mourning her passing, but one. One man who knew how to use it to finally get what he had wanted for years. An elaborate plan was quickly hatched, and as the princess had been put in her coffin to be buried, the corpse was replaced with the body of someone else.
The princess was brought to a castle, away from her kingdom, where few ever traveled. An powerful ritual had been prepared for her arrival, and it was started as soon as the body got there.

As the woman in the bed started twitching to life, the man sitting in the chair next to the bed leaned towards her. He quickly stroked his short black hair, to make sure it was looking it's best.
"Good morning, my love."
 
The strange pulse that suddenly jump-started her heart wasn't natural, and it didn't feel right. Her body ached with the sickness that had pulled her into the voids wintery grasp, though she no longer felt the wispy tendrils of death around her body.
Rasharas bright auburn hair glowed brightly against the satin pillows she was laid against, her skin shimmering as the unknown magic's worked their way over her body. Her muscles twitched, blossoming back into her lively form. </SPAN>

"ugh…" Rashara's jaw was stiff, days of frozen death making her lethargic and achy. "Where am i?"</SPAN>
 
The man smiled. "You are at your new home. Drend castle." He said, pausing for a moment. "Your body might be a bit stiff and such, but that is quite usual for those who's been dead for a few days." He said, leaning slightly more forward. "But at least I brought you back before your beauty started to fade. You became a bit pale, but that seems to be about it." He smiled reassuringly.
 
"New…Home…?" She repeated, tilting her head to the side to take in the visage of the man who was speaking so sweetly to her. "who are you?" </SPAN>

Rashara blinked her bright green eyes, trying to focus on the manly form that stood by her bedside. He mentioned her skin being pale, which made her slowly lift her forearm and take a look. Her once suntanned skin looked pale white and fragile, like porcelain. As she watched, her boney fingers plumbed back to their original size, no longer frigid.
</SPAN>
"why?"</SPAN>
 
"As you might remember, you were very sick. Deadly sick, actually. But I, Victor DeLoch, saved your life. Yet, your old home will not accept you anymore, as they think you are dead." Victor sat back in his seat, his brown eyes running over her body, seeing it return a bit more back to life.
"And rest assured, you wont be missing anything from your old life. I will make sure you are suffering no shortage of anything." He said, his slightly pale face with a large smile still on his face.
 
"Sick..." She repeated after him, feeling the stiffness in her joints slowly dissapearing. "What manner of dark magic is this?!" She suddenly asked, pushing herself up onto her elbows and looking over her body- which looked just as it had before she lost track of time. Her dark green eyes scanned over his pale face, searching for answers within his cold eyes. Her cerimonial earrings chimed in her ears as she lifted her head once again, twisting her body to sit forward, her hands insinctively reaching up to her forehead to soothe the pounding of an oncomming headache.

"What have you done such a thing?"
 
"It is the darkest magic, my dear. Necromancy. Though it is not evil, it is but dark." He said, having expected a similar reaction. "Why would I not do such a thing? So a beauty like you wouldn't be lost, especially before she has had a chance to experience more of the world than her own castle! I didn't want you to die, having experienced nothing! Everyone deserves more than that! Would you rather be buried, slowly rotting in your grave than be here?" He asked slightly angered, yet still in control of himself, also expecting something like this.
 
"If it was my destiny to die young, then so be it!" Rashara's pale face reddened, her temper rising the more she thought about what had been done to her.
"I was destined to spend eternity with the gods...and now you have robbed me of that..." She turned her face from him, giving him the cold shoulder.
 
Victor leaned back in his chair again, a hint of sadness on his face. "So you were going to be among the gods? Have you met them yet? Have you been sitting by their side? You've been dead for a few days, you see. If you haven't seem them yet, what makes you think you'll meet them later?" Victor knew there were forces far above what any man could do, yet he was certain that no matter what they were, they weren't going to accept anyone to their side after death. That was something only necromancers did, he had always believed.
 
"Who are you to question my faith?!" Rashara shouted, her eyes taking on a hint of red from their normal vibrant green. In her anger, she suddenly began to cough, blood rocketing from her mouth into her hands.

"You've turned me into a monster..."
 
"I turned you into a living being again! I made you a queen! And for that, you are angry at me! And I care little in your faith! Any *gods* creating something of such beauty, then taking it away all too soon, are something I'd never worship! Are you telling me, that due to your death being *the will of the gods*, you've just going to accept that?! Simply dying young, never having a chance to experience anything, besides a body that was slowly failing?!" Victors almost shouted as he stood up. Most of his servants he'd accept to calling monsters. Yet what he had done to her... he felt it was something far from a monster.
 
Rashara kept her face turned from him, listening to what he said and trying her hardest to look as dignified as possible. She waited until he was done and out of breath, turning her face slowly towards him and sighed.

"You brought me back into a world that I can never show my face in. You think I won't be recognized by anyone? My face is the emblem of peace! My mother and father had my visage bronzed into coin!" She scoffed, crossing her arms in a defensive manner. "You've ressurected me into a life of hiding...Even if i did want to live a different type of life, I would have to completely change who I am less someone become suspicious..." She held her head low, feeling helpless.
 
Victor sat back in his chair, leaning towards her slightly. "So that is what you believe? That you will have to hide for the rest of your life?" He paused slightly. "You are wrong. This province, this... Little kingdom of my own... It has little contact with the outside world. I know what is happening there, but that is only due to a few trusted servants that bring me the news. They already know of you, and the rest of the population here wouldn't know you, even if you were presented by name and title. They have heard of your home, yet few know of its current rulers or situation." He paused again, thinking for a moment. "Most kingdoms do not look to happily at what I do. So I made one for myself. The people here believe that being returned from the grave is the greatest honor and a way to eternal life. And at least the last part is true..." Victor trailed off slightly, as he once more sat back in his chair.
 
"forgive me if i do not believe you just yet. I was just awakened from what should have been an eternal slumber, for what seems like no other reason than to preserve my beuaty. i am not in the best of moods..." She pulled her legs close to her chest, her rigid spine cracking as she did. She trembled as she heard the sound of her bones popping back to life and she closed her eyes to allow a single tear to gently float down her pristine cheeks.

"I wish I could be as thankfull as you wish me to be..."
 
Victor leaned back and ran a hand across his face, sighing. "Do not be sorry. I am the one at fault here. I shouldn't have expected you to simply accept what I have done to you so easily. Being brought back when not prepared for it can be quite a traumatic experience."
He looked at her, smiling slightly. "Yet, with time, you might start enjoying your new chance. Your new life. Your new kingdom."
 
Rashara remained silent, wiping the reminence of blood off off her lips and intently staring at it as it trickled slowly down her clean palms. There were no words to describe how she was feeling at that moment. A small spark of happiness was trying so desperately to ignite her mind with thoughts of a new, free, adventurous life, but her belief in fate overwhelmed her- turning any possible smidgen of contenment into a very dark, horrible depression.
 
"Well, I'll leave you alone to let you truly comprehend this." Victor said, as he stood up. "I'll be in my library, which is just down the hall." He said, as he started walking to the door of the room. As he opened it, he turned towards her and added "And one of my servants will be outside this door, awaiting your command. And please, do not hesitate to call on me again."
 
As the man left, Rashara started scrambling around the room, trying to find some sort of exit. She was positive that the man who had ressurected her was no ordinary man. He mention creating a kingdom all to himself, where he would be accepted and something about that just didn't seem right to her. He completely cut his villagers off from the outside world, keeping them ignorant so his ways would seem the norm.

"I have to get out of here..." Rashara whispered to herself as she ran her fingers over the large windows framing the room. Her fingers washed over the sides, trying to find some sort of release to open them up and find her way onto the high peaked roof.
 
Victor walked slowly down the hall, towards his library. He wondered if she'd actually accept her un-life or not. He was of course hoping she'd get used to it, because if not, he had done a ritual that took quite some rare remedies.
He opened the door to the library, slowly walking into the huge room. Books from wall to wall, filled with dusty old tomes, with one especially large one lying open on a pedestal. He walked up to it and started reading in it. Every spell he had ever learned, and quite a few he hadn't learned, as he found it unnecessary to know them. Reading in it for some reason tended to calm him down.
 
It was as if the man had it all thought through and meticulously planned. There was absolutely no way to escape from the room she was in. Rashara felt her world crashing down over her shoulders, opening the door to the closet and scanning over the familiar clothing inside. Had he taken her wardrobe from the palace and moved it with her body? She wondered as she thumbed through the vestments, counting how many looked pre-worn and how many looked crisp and new.

"He even brought the ones i'd never gotten the chance to wear..." Rashara felt as if her breath was leaving her body, her chest deflating and forcing her to her knees in front of the closet. Without thinking, she crawled in, hiding in the back corer and pulling her knees to her chest.
 
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