"Power Play" //// The Lost Boys Imagines & Preferences - Book 3

To Be A Princess

Princess Madilyn of Aquestria paced her bedroom and bit her ragged nails into little nubs.
Over the years, her sickness had become worse and a prophet told her that it was a gift of immortality, yet her father called her the devil's spawn.

She scratched the open wounds on her hands that bled red. The color was everywhere on her body. She sucked on the skin, begging it to heal before coronation time for she'd be standing in front of her kingdom with scarred skin.

The people would cast her out, call her names and burn everything, including her parents who according to the priest had the audacity to raise such an abomination.

Madilyn could hear everything, including the beating of her own heart. She opened the door before the slave could knock, causing her to fall face-first onto the carpet. It was too late for the princess to cover her hands, so she dove for the girl instead and tore her throat open, giving into the cravings. She stored the body under her bed and stepped into the hallway, eager to find some decent company.

"Princess," the French prince stepped up to her. She smelled the pomade he used to slick back his platinum blonde locks. "I'd like you to meet my brothers. More soul than by blood, mind you."

"Welcome to Aquestria, your majesties." She curtsies and shakes their hands before walking away. "I could've sworn I know them."