Celeste's life is far from the enchanting fairy tale one might expect from a princess. Her father, a ruthless and self-absorbed king, leaves a trail of death and destruction in his wake. To seal alliances and maintain his power, he arranges for Cele...
A broad grin appears on the King's lips. Slowly he stands up from his chair. Only then do I see how tall the man is. He easily towers two heads over me.
'Bring our new servant to the square.' I never thought I would hear those words. From crown princess to prisoner to servant. My father should see me now. I can hear his loud laughter in the back of my head. He would think it a beautiful sight, showing off at the dawn.
Before I realise what is happening, the man who had been holding me all along pulls me out of the door. When I made the choice for servant, I seemed to have forgotten the first phase of this punishment. Twenty lashes. This is going to hurt, make blood run down my back and leave marks. One thing has become clear to me: elves are not the lovable woodland creatures you find in children's books.
I am pulled into a paved square. The ground is covered with the white stones from which everything seems to be made. In the middle of the square is a large tree, at first sight an oak. The closer I am drawn to the oak tree, the better I see what is hanging in its branches. From the tall tree hang two ropes with iron handcuffs.
That is when panic sets in. I try to stand still, to pull myself out of the man's grip. He is stronger than he seems, I can't move. Closer and closer I am drawn towards the oak tree. Several elves have left their homes and find their way to the square. I try to ask for help with my gaze but no one responds. I begin to wonder if I have made the right choice.
'Beloved subjects. Our crown princess has come to pay for the deeds of her husband,' echoes the king's voice. I have reached the oak tree. Another man grabs my wrists and pulls them towards the handcuffs. I try to resist and am not thanked for it.
'Cooperate or your punishment will be much worse than this,' threatens the man holding me. The first iron handle is closed around my wrist. I am powerless and alone. Nobody is going to help me, Novak is nowhere to be seen and the king is enjoying my fear.
As soon as my other wrist is fastened as well, the men release me. I pull at the ropes, but there is no beginning. That is the moment that a button flips in my head. If this is my choice, my destiny, then I accept it with pride. He will not get a glimpse of my pain, not a cry or a tear. I face my punishment with pride. I make no more attempt to break free. I stand still and wait. I stand perfectly still while Novak's blouse is ripped to pieces from behind. My back is exposed.
'Twenty lashes,' the king shouts over the now crowded square. Whips, these are not just any whips. I was already expecting pain and blood but this gives me certainty of both. A scourge consists of nine cords knotted together, often with sharp edges. I know the stories but have never experienced or seen it myself. The pain seems to be unmanageable, like knives sliding over your back. Despite the re-emerging fear, I resist showing it. I stand by my position, he's not going to get a reaction.
'Are you ready princess?' The king's breath bounces against the side of my neck. Causes goosebumps of fear. I take a deep breath, gripping the ropes tighter.
'Absolutely,' I reply in the most confident tone I can muster. My back curves briefly as soon as I feel the ropes sliding along my back. I close my eyes, waiting for the pain. I don't have to wait long until I feel the cords leave my skin and hit my back with an intense force. I have to summon up everything in me to cry out in pain. Christiaan could hit hard, but this is a force I have not experienced before. I immediately understand the stories of the slashing knives.
'One,' the king counts. Nineteen to go. I don't have to wait long for the second blow, this one even more painful than the first. I feel my skin turning red, almost bursting from the pressure. Tears sting my eyes, but I don't bat an eyelid. Not a sound has left my mouth.
'Two,' he continues counting. I had expected the elves to cheer but on the contrary. It is dead quiet on the square. When I open my eyes to look into the crowd I see worried looks. I don't have long before the next blow hits my back. I have to catch my breath as I feel my skin breaking. A wet warm liquid slides down my back.
'Three.' His tone is triumphant, he enjoys this.
'So it is true. Black blood. Show me more.' The next blow follows. Each one hurts more than the last. I don't know where I get the strength to keep my mouth shut, but I manage. My eyes are closed, my hands are gripping the ropes tightly. The blood runs down my back. I try to put the king's count out of my mind, to shift my thoughts to something else. I try to think of the landscapes I flew over, the time at Nelly's and eating pancakes in the kitchen. I shift my thoughts like I did with Christiaan. It's my way of dealing with pain, the only way it's bearable.
'Twelve.' My skin is torn, pulled apart and devoured by the cords. Scars have formed that will never fade. My blood seeps past my skin into the grass. My head is a blur. My hands ache from clinging to the ropes. My molars almost break under the force of my jaws pressed together. I seem to lose my senses now and then, to fall into my own head. Still, the unbearable pain keeps me somewhat in touch with the dark reality.
'Seventeen.' I no longer feel where my skin ends and turns into wounds. My whole back feels as if my skin has been torn off. I stand with my bare feet in my blood, black blood. My head switches between reality and my dream world. Each blow pulls me back for a second into the unmanageable pain until my head finds a way to escape. My legs can barely hold themselves up. I begin to doubt whether I will make it to twenty. My body is completely weakened from the pain and blood loss.
'Nineteen.' I no longer know when I am in reality or in my thoughts. The short line between the two seems blurred. My head hangs forward, my hands and legs have given up their strength. I hang from the ropes and hold myself upright with the little strength I have left.
'Twenty.' With the final blow, it feels as if all the strength is knocked out of my body. My body gives up, thinks it has had enough. My legs can't find any strength. Not a single word, not a single sound, not a single scream. With that reality, I give up the fight. My head goes completely in its dream world, reality disappears.
Everything goes black.
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