The Dutchess and the Pants lady

First glance

Her movements were that of a queen. Every foot step seemed to glide on air as she crossed the room. Every suitor stopped and stared, longing for her to take hold of their arm. The golden lace of her dress swayed back and forth with each step. Candles lit up the still dance floor. All eyes were on her. Brown as the earth we rely on dearly, her hair was woven into a braid of near perfection. The dark tones of her hair outlined her pale skin. A blessing from heaven, snow kissed color, she was nearly a ghost. Eyes met with this beautiful maiden. Round blue crystals, polished by the raging rivers filled each eye and a pink blotch appeared upon her soft cheeks. She stood proud, showing no sign of a hunch, if she was being crushed by the world, then it was internal. The foot steps stopped. Her body stood still in front of a bowing woman. A dress was no where to be found, the legs of this woman was covered with high waisted pants. Their crystal blue eyes met, never looking away. The pants woman bent her knee, preparing to bow, but was stopped but the elegant woman's soft silk hands. They clasped the underside of her chin. Her beauty was not only in her face but also her heart. Ruby red lips outlined the elegance of her welcoming smile, a smile never more perfect.
A cunning look stretched across her lovely face. Emotions were thriving. The Dutchess grabbed the pants girls waist, pulling herself closer. Nearly face to face now, their eyes seemed to melt into eachother. Arms wrapped around each other, the musician resumed the playing of his instrument. Music filled the room, it echoed in and out of every ear, moving feet, and pulling the expression of fondness out into the open. They spun around and around, moving to the rhythm with such poise and emotion. There was no doubt in the world, they were meant to be together.
But as wonderful as this was, it didn't last. Within an instant they were torn apart. A large rough hand clasped the Dutchesses fragile shoulder. Seconds later, a highly decorated man took hold of the pantsed woman's arms, holding them tightly behind her back. She tried to hold onto the duchesses arm but was unable to with stand the pain of the mans grip. She fell to her knees. A scream came pouring out of the duchess as she was dragged away. Several larger men walked into the ball room and surrounded her father. He's face was full of disappointment, but she could only see he's smug face inbetween each tear, the tears came faster and faster, till it was a streaky streak of sadness. After being drug upstairs to her chambers, a large crash filled the room when the door was slammed shut. The young duchesses fists slammed against the heavy wooden door. She called out, but no one was near to hear her calls of misery. As for the pantsed woman, she was long gone from the walls of the royal ballroom. Still grasping her arms, the large man led her to a small room down a long hallway. A man sat in a large wooden throne. His head shook left and right. His face was shielded by the large over coat he wore, giving him the sense of mystery. The shoulders of this man wasn't proud, they seemed to cave in on his torso. A large breath drew into his chest before he spoke, "this is ungodly." His eyes met with the man on her right. They exchanged a look of both dissappointment and pure evil. Every muscle in his hand flexed. A large fist formed in place of the rough left hand. Veins and knuckles crossed. His deep and shallow voice spoke, "she is one to be forgotten easily." Her mouth opened to speak, but before any word could leave her pale lips, the fist met her gut and the words she wished to say were replaced with grunts of pain. All the air left her lungs. Gasping for air she attempted to bend over, but maintained and upright position thanks to the strong arms of her capturers. The knuckes on his hand were no longer a grimy color like the rest of his skin, but instead, changed to a red. He had hit her hard, his veins had busted on her lower ribs and formed a bruise. Her mouth was filled with the taste of iron and was followed by blood. She didn't know what to do, her only option was to spit. Pain spiked through her scalp as he grabbed her golden hair. He held her head high. Crouching low, their faces met, but before anything was said, she let the blood in her mouth free, spitting it onto the grin smeared across his scarred face. Blood dropped from this chin. Wiping his face of the blood, his grin was gone, replaced by pure enragement. Furry spread to his hand fast, long before his brain. His fist swing back at her gut like the time before, but was stopped when the cloaked man raised his hand. "Now why would we kill her," he said with a grin, "she is to be on her way, however," he stepped down from his throne, "if you ever come close to the her again, you may never see the light of day, and neither will she." The blood left her face, she couldn't imagine never seeing her again. She was her everything. Those late nights under the stars. The silent affair between them, hidden away from anyone's opinion. However, she loved her to much to allow this to get in the way of her life, "ok, just leave her be." The cloaked man chuckled, "see now wasn't that easy, if only you weren't a disgusting woman lover, leave them to the men." The blood had stopped and furry set in. There were so many words she wanted to say, to scream, to yell, but she held her tongue, she had no idea what they could possibly be capable of. She caught a glance at a small tattoo that stretched along the underside of the cloaked mans pale arm. A leaf of pure beauty seemed to float upon her veins but were soon met with torture and pain just as she did when it's sharp thorns pierced the soft center. Her father once had a symbol like that on his shoulder blade, however the thorns were replaced by scares that pieced more than just the leaf, his soul suffered the most damage. He had become a broken man, relying upon liquor and fled from his family. Oh the stories he told her of his past and the ones he with held to preserve her safety. The tattoo flooded her memories, some she wished not to recall, but she had no control. Impatiently the cloaked man tapped his foot, he had lost her attention, he was no longer her mind. With a blink she was back, but it wasn't soon enough for him. A large object collided with the back of her fragile skull, rattling the thoughts within her. Nearly seconds later she met with another collision, this time however with the floor. It was cold and damp, as if winter had come sooner than expected. The cold clung to her cheek before her eyes shut and everything seemed to go blank.