She's The Enemy (GxG)

(P3) Chapter 1- Daddy Issues

She eats slowly as if each bite is another strike to the heart. She isn't how I remember. She isn't grinning or laughing- she isn't happy. This is my fault. I thought that if I were to bring her here, she would realise how much she missed me. She missed me, right? I have to go over it in my head again and again because, if once it proves incorrect, I begin to feel guilt.

I'm not used to feeling. I've been brought up on the idea that emotion is weakness. However, I can't help but feel when I'm around her. It's all sorts of things. Anger, that she didn't fight to see me again. The sorrow which coincides with the despairing look on her face. And hate. I hate myself. I hate myself for doing what I had to the girl I care so deeply for. I hate myself for not being able to feel the guilt.

Despite what some might think, I do not want to marry her. I just want to be able to talk to her. To look into her eyes. To laugh with her. I want everything to be as it was, though with what happened, it could never be again.

"Would you like me to show you to your room?" I murmur, holding out a hand for the blonde to take. Her gaze travels upward slowly, her eyes fixing on mine.

"Thought we'd be sleeping together. Bride and Groom and all..." She says it bitterly and full of a enough poison, it could rip apart my soul. After she says this she tilts her head, beckoning me to answer her. I gulp down what I wish to say; words full of emotion.

"I felt that would be disrepectful, given... your situation..." My voice is strained, throat dry. I shouldn't let her have this effect on me. She stands, biting her lip slightly, still glaring at me.

"Which room?" My gaze begins to move from place to place, never landing by her.

"My old one..." I mumble. It's a lie. We had the guest bedroom prepared for her, however, my room is much nicer. She doesn't say another word before walking straight past me and up the staircase.

***

I am sorting through my clothes when my father appears. I know I could just use magic, however, I like to do things traditionally. It adds... normality to the chaos. I was thinking about that girl before he came in. Thinking about her piercing blue eyes and about the tears that cascaded down Isla's face at her suffering.  It's technically my fault- I didn't know they would end up being mates.

"You need to get her under control," My father snaps and I turn to face him.

"She is under control." I murmur, opening my dresser inorder to place my shirt inside. My father takes a deep breath, waving a hand to sort the rest of my clothes and stepping closer to me.

"She is not. That girl will do nothing you say. You need an obedient wife. Not one that will test you. Get her under control." I get angry at this, stepping so that my face is centimetres from his. 

"She can do whatever the hell she wants. We've hurt her too much already. We've taken her from her mate, we've hurt her kingdom, her friends. Her brother now has to rule the kingdom- an inexperienced boy that she was tasked with keeping safe. I do not need another obiendent follower. I don't want her to fear me as everyone else does!" I yell and, in response, my father wraps his hand around my neck, squeezing tight.

"You are letting your care for this girl get in the way of your duty." I gasp as he squeezes my neck tighter, the power coming from not only his own strength but from his magic, "Fear is power." He states this without yelling, keeping his tone dull and bitter.

"My... own... mother... feared... me..." I say between gasps, gritting my teeth as he closes the gap in my throat. He stares at me for a moment before releasing me from his grasp.

"You are acting reckless. If this girl is effecting you this much I may as well have her killed." My heart thumps at this, my breath catching.

"No... please..." I beg frantically, "I'll... get her under control..." My father smiles at this.

"Good boy."

***

I dream rarely. It's only within a dream in which I can truly be alive. A young girl said to me once, 'Just because you're breathing, doesn't mean you are alive' and I belive that to be true. Everything I've ever learnt has been about how to survive but never how to stay alive. And as the small breaths of that girl, now grown, echo through the corridors of the place in which I live, I wonder if she is alive. I wonder if she dreams of her mate. 

I dream of her since the only time I've ever been alive was with her. However, I lie in bed awake tonight. I'm scared of seeing her this time because I know I have hurt her. I hurt the one aspect of another life I've ever had. Then, something startles me. The sound of her feet on the stairs, the sound of rustling in the kitchen.

"Here to make sure I don't run away?" The blonde turns towards me, licking a substance that was sat on her spoon, " Don't worry. I'm just hungry." Weird. She just ate.

"Really?" I ask, sitting down on one of the stools around the central island. The girl places the spoon back into a jar, licking it once again. A second passes, my question getting lost in the air.

"It's Jam," She says abruptly, watching me. There's silence for a moment before she speaks once again, "What did he do to you X?" At this question I want to tell her, tell her that I never really betrayed her, but, I can't let my emotions rule me. I can't be reckless.

"He didn't do anything," I state, adding that devilish tone as I do when with those other than my father, "Unfortunately, you just chose the wrong side, princess."

"Don't call me that," She spits out and I hate the look of disgust on her face; She used to look at me through glistening eyes and a joy-filled grin. 

"Why not..." I watch her flinch at the ferocity behind my voice and I stand from the stool, beginning to step towards her, "You are no longer the Queen." My eyes rip into hers and we lock gazes for a few seconds. She has to hate me. "You are nothing... all because of some girl..." She clenches her fists. She has to hate me. 

"I am hers." Her answer surprises me. The sincerity in her voice; As if she thinks that she will see the brunette again. As if she still cares, still has... hope.

"You are mine." I state bitterly as she places the lid back onto the jar.

"Not yet..." She murmurs as she begins up the stairs. I don't say a word, watching her leave in silence.

 She has to hate me. 

A/N

Hi! Sorry it's been so long, I've just been feeling a little... off recently but I was actually pretty excited to write this chapter, get a different perspective on this story. I really hope you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading!