- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Writing Levels
- Give-No-Fucks
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Genres
- Fantasy, Romance, Medieval, Action, Magic, Sci-fi
[fieldbox="The Conceited Beauty, #d6bd31, solid, 10"]With the rise of the sun, feelings of dread and agony were brought to the forefront of the eldest Wittacre heiress' mind. Not even the golden touch of the sun's blinding rays could wake the beauty from her daze. She never spoke of her fears, nor her agonizing nightmares which left her paralyzed each and every year. Catherine had been forced to gain a certain adulthood the day her family had been slaughtered. She was only a child, as was her brutally beaten sister.
As such, each and every year she put on a brave face. No one was supposed to know her true identity. She would never let them see the pain it caused her to relive the horror, it was a weakness she wanted to be rid of in the world where only the strong prevailed.
Catherine stood from her previous seated position in the sill of one of the many high tower windows. Irritation was plain on her face. A small living area claimed the space around her, with windows on all sides to let in as much light as possible, as was a common Southern custom. There was no room higher unless a person ran halfway across the castle to another, taller spire. The sun brought a glow to the woman's face, making her shine like a goddess brought down from heaven to enlighten the blessed men of Earth. The rays glittered against the deep blue silks she wore, the closest color to black she held in her wardrobe. But in the light, it was hard to compare such a rich navy to anything so dark as black.
The Queen sat opposite of Catherine near the top of the stairs which spiraled around the room in a descending pile of white beams. Her elegance mirrored that of the Northern gem's, only in a tanned Southern image of grace. Neither of the women wore a decent expression on their face, the one's there being that of annoyance. Their matched feelings were for one man. A step son, and a betrothed.
William, what has gotten into you?
"What's taking him?" Catherine growled. "They found my little sister, damn her foolish nature for going out unchaperoned, and they found William with her. He should be here by now."
Catherine bit her thumb anxiously. Such an act was unbecoming of someone for her stature, but she couldn't help but be worried for the man. Not only him, but for herself. He put her future at risk by acting without thinking, and on behalf of none other than Ellara.
I am your betrothed. I am to be Queen. Why spend so much time worrying about where one fool has gone?
"Can you believe it? William, of all people, going out at the mere mention of Ellara's absence." Catherine hissed. Her anger was directed towards the man, and not the Queen in the room. Nevertheless, she apologized for her anger. "Forgive me, your grace, I can't help but be upset."[/fieldbox]
As such, each and every year she put on a brave face. No one was supposed to know her true identity. She would never let them see the pain it caused her to relive the horror, it was a weakness she wanted to be rid of in the world where only the strong prevailed.
Catherine stood from her previous seated position in the sill of one of the many high tower windows. Irritation was plain on her face. A small living area claimed the space around her, with windows on all sides to let in as much light as possible, as was a common Southern custom. There was no room higher unless a person ran halfway across the castle to another, taller spire. The sun brought a glow to the woman's face, making her shine like a goddess brought down from heaven to enlighten the blessed men of Earth. The rays glittered against the deep blue silks she wore, the closest color to black she held in her wardrobe. But in the light, it was hard to compare such a rich navy to anything so dark as black.
The Queen sat opposite of Catherine near the top of the stairs which spiraled around the room in a descending pile of white beams. Her elegance mirrored that of the Northern gem's, only in a tanned Southern image of grace. Neither of the women wore a decent expression on their face, the one's there being that of annoyance. Their matched feelings were for one man. A step son, and a betrothed.
William, what has gotten into you?
"What's taking him?" Catherine growled. "They found my little sister, damn her foolish nature for going out unchaperoned, and they found William with her. He should be here by now."
Catherine bit her thumb anxiously. Such an act was unbecoming of someone for her stature, but she couldn't help but be worried for the man. Not only him, but for herself. He put her future at risk by acting without thinking, and on behalf of none other than Ellara.
I am your betrothed. I am to be Queen. Why spend so much time worrying about where one fool has gone?
"Can you believe it? William, of all people, going out at the mere mention of Ellara's absence." Catherine hissed. Her anger was directed towards the man, and not the Queen in the room. Nevertheless, she apologized for her anger. "Forgive me, your grace, I can't help but be upset."[/fieldbox]