Hera | Feitan Portor

✎ 。Chapter One

"Goodness, [Y/N]...what on gods earth are you wearing"

You don't even remember how long you were taking your step-mothers words before you stopped caring. You only let out sighs of relief when your father was around, for she wouldn't talk down to you around him, keeping her "nice" step-mother appearance. If he knew what she said to you he would have had her executed in a minute

"I think I look nice"

You looked down at the poofy pink and lightish purple dress that you had begged your maid to put on instead of that awful ginormous red dress. She looked at you before glaring at your maid, who only look towards the floor. She walked to her, a loud smack came onto the room as you realized what she had done.

"You are supposed to make her look modest. Not like an awful lower class men"

She tried to apologize but you were quicker with everything. You stalked to them, standing in front of your helpless maid. It wasn't quite often that you would let your emotions get in touch with yourself, hold them all in, making you look like a emotionless porcelain doll.

"How dare you...do you think you can do that to MY maid when you were once lower then us. The only reason my father married you was because he was lonely and you were desperate for money"

You spoke in a low-cut voice whilst she just looked at you, dumbfounded. You only glared at her before turning to your fragile maid that was holding her redding cheek on the floor. You crouched down to her level and softly picked up her cheek. You noticed the tears in her eyes that she tried hard to hide.

"Are you alright?"

You picked her up by her arms and led her into your personal chambers before she could get even one word in. She took care of you as long as you could remember. With your mother exiled on an abandoned house because your father thought that you weren't his daughter. But what else could he had thought when his daughter came out with [E/C] instead of the bright yellow eyes

She took care of you in a way your mother wanted to but couldn't. So what else could you do but care for her like she did for you all of these years. Every cut and scratch you got she healed and put a tiny kiss onto.

"I-I'm fine!"

She tried to stand up but you only pushed her down, pressing the wet towel on her bruised cheek. She stammered, trying to come up with something to diffuse the quietness.

"Miss...I wonder how the party will be?"

"I think it'll be like always. Nothing new nothing nice. Your wonder if the king and queen will ever make a good party for one night that isn't just cocktails and cheese. Awful food pallet must I say"

You two only giggled at what you were saying, knowing that it was only true. You placed the wet towel back down into the bowl, taking a look at her less red cheek. You stood up from the soft feather bed, dusting off the nonexistent dust from your dress. You walked out, leaving her by herself

"Take better care of yourself. Stand up to her, if she tried to do anything...I'll handle it"

You stared away into the supposed delectable food in front of you. Your step-mother only pulled your hair ever so slightly so that you could flinch. You kicked her underneath the table, causing her to let out a small whimper.

"Eat the food. The king and queens chef wouldn't like to see that you aren't eating"

You glared at her but shoved the food into your mouth with no etiquette written into your face. You wiped your face with a paper towel layer down perfectly, only staring into your step-mother's eyes. The king and queen laughed awkwardly at you as your sister just stared at you.

"Seems as thought your quite hungry, huh?"

"Mhm very. I'm barely ever fed from my "mother"

You giggled at the man as the queen ordered a butler nearby to get more food for you. They brought a selection of food you've never seen them have before and only "ooh"d at. You told him to set down the bouillabaisse and the earl grey macarons.

"After all you will be family!"

You choked ever on the macarons that were once shoved into your mouth.

"What"

Word Count- 769