𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 -★彡[ᴅᴀɴ ʜᴇɴɢ]★彡

- 𝟎𝟕 -

TW: DOMESTIC ABUSE

Whenever [Y/N] looked at her father, she saw herself reflected in his eyes.

    He was a gruff man with a square beard and sheer white hair. His eyes were emerald green but appeared devoid of color when staring him directly in the eyes. He was referred to as 'King' by the townspeople rather than 'the king,' a manner of speaking developed over time. Although [Y/N] had never caught on to the habit and still referred to her father as 'the king' in her mind, when speaking to him she addressed him in the same fashion the townspeople did. The king only held an iota of power in comparison to the queen (similarly addressed as 'Queen' by the townsfolk), who was the real person in charge of the planet. He merely carried out the menial tasks in which she didn't have any time for, which included disciplinary actions. He was her biological father yet she had never felt the connection between them that he seemed to share with Phoebe.

    Always wearing a blank and listless expression, he would yell and scold her with that same blank stare. Most of the time she was unable to look away from him out of fear only to see her own pathetic face staring back at her.

    It was early in the morning—the sun had just risen above the walls—when a maid knocked on her door.

    "His Majesty is calling you."

    Those words were familiar yet haunting each time she heard them. Swallowing hard, she heaved herself to her feet, ignoring the bruises and marks from lashings that had still yet to completely heal from the last time he had summoned her.

    She dressed herself in a simple dress and headed down the hallway barefoot, trying to ignore the pain that seared through her each time the raw flesh at the bottom of her feet was pressed against the ground. It was of the utmost importance that each time she appeared before the King, she acted as deranged as she possibly could.

    The moment he caught onto her act he and the Queen would most likely exterminate her immediately.

    The doors to the King's chambers were large and imposing. The handle was made of shimmering gold with the shape of a lion's head forming the knob, and she felt her fingers coil around the outline of its mane as she twisted it and pushed the door open.

    Feigning a smile, [Y/N] stepped into the room as lightly as a rabbit, swinging her hands behind her back. "You called for me?"

    The King was standing at the back of the room, his back turned towards the wall. He seemed to be immersed in some sort of deep contemplation, as he didn't react as he usually did when she walked in.

    The door slammed shut behind her, the sliver of light from the outside that had connected her to herself closing along with it. She felt as if she had been stripped naked of her facade, reduced to nothing but a trembling mess.