Her Dark Knight

The Sacrifice

The post wedding celebrations were cheerful and lively. All the guests were directed to the large, reception hall of the Palace. They were surrounded by high, cream coloured walls that gave way to an open ceiling – so the Moon and its Goddess could gaze upon her children during this joyous occasion. The walls flickered with the lights of multiple lamps fixed upon them, casting a warmth into the room that boosted the joyful atmosphere. The two newlyweds were situated towards the back of the room, sitting upon hard, golden thrones that rose above all others to distinguish between the Royals and their subjects. The King was sat in between the two lovers, watching his subordinates with heavy eyes.

The musicians, set upon a raised platform so all guests could see, were supplying a pleasant tune that persuaded several guests to rise from their seats and dance along the floor. Arabella was happily watching some of her friends waltz to the music when a cleared throat interrupted her. She glanced up quickly to its source and found her new husband observing her, “My darling wife, would you do me the pleasure of a dance?” He asked, stooping down to take her hand and kiss the back of it.

Arabella nodded and stood, curtsying quickly to the King before following her spouse onto the floor.

Alaric stepped closer to Arabella and pulled her into his arms as they started swaying to the music. They were silent for a few seconds, before the Prince opened his mouth and jested, “So, how does it feel to be married?”

Arabella giggled and inhaled his fresh scent deeply, “Hmm… I must say that I am enjoying it so far, dear husband.” She winked as he turned her expertly in his hands in time with the music. 

Once they were close to each other again they resumed their conversation, “That’s all I could hope for, especially as you will finally be all mine after all these people are gone, to do what I want with,” he whispered in her ear, leaning down to taste her neck with his tongue.

Arabella felt her stomach clench with desire at his suggestion, she let out a soft moan – causing him to grip her tighter to him and rasp, “I wish everyone would leave so that we could be alone right now. I want to touch you so badly…”

The Princess gasped, feeling flushed at how forward he was being in front of their guests. She reciprocated his affections by leaning up to his neck and running her lips along it, slowly towards his face where she settled for a quick peck and a wink. 

He stared down at her with lust in his eyes, pulling her closer to him, before Arabella put out a hand to stop her movements, “My Prince, I don’t think this is the right time nor place for those activities. Let us delay those thoughts for now…” She whispered caressing his suit-covered chest.

He groaned with unrestrained frustration, before settling for taking her tightly into his arms and dancing to the music being played. They lulled into a relaxed silence, taking the chance to enjoy one another’s company.

A heavy hand settled upon the shoulder of her Prince, making the pair look towards its owner. It was the King, who apologised for the interruption, but requested a dance with his new daughter-in-law. The Prince agreed swiftly, before bowing to his wife and leaving her alone with his father.

Arabella looked up to the King, locking eyes with him as the older man stepped closer and gathered the young Lady into his arms. Even as an older man, the King was rather a lovely sight to gaze upon – he was what you expected of a King: a large, domineering presence that made any Were weak at the knees. Looking past the superficial looks however, King Edmund seemed to hold a vicious quality about him – giving Arabella goose bumps at the thought of being alone with him. 

“Princess Arabella, I am so pleased that we can welcome you into our family. Your father has been pestering me for years about your union to my son, but now I can say that I’m glad he was so… determined.” He said, smirking down to the girl in his arms.

Arabella gave an uncomfortable smile as his eyes swept over her face, “Thank you, my King. I am grateful that you agreed to the betrothal and I promise that I will not let you down.”

“I should hope not, as bad things can happen to people that upset me, young girl.” He said, moving his head to look out at the crowd, as if he hadn’t just threatened the new Princess held captive within his grasp. 

The Lady gulped, finally understanding how much pressure there was to act like a perfect Queen, and how much was at stake if she were to act out of line. An awkward tension came over them that caused Arabella to sweat in a panic – the King was a dangerous man, she had realised.

Arabella glanced across the room as they moved with the music, spotting Lady Kylia and her brother sitting at a table close to them. Once the song had ended, she asked to be excused from the King and, once he nodded his approval, she hastily curtseyed and dashed across the room towards the pair.

Kylia looked up as she heard footsteps approaching her table, and upon seeing the new Princess, looked down quickly to her plate. Arabella sighed, then smiled to Lord Killian before taking a seat next to the siblings. The Princess grabbed a napkin that had been set upon the table, nervously fiddling with it whilst she thought of what to say. After a few awkward moments, she cleared her throat, “Kylia, I am sorry for the words I said to you the other week. I did not mean to be so harsh to you, I just said those words in the heat of the moment, and I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Lady Kylia, however, did not say anything in response. Arabella’s eyes met Killian’s pleadingly, but he just shrugged as if he didn’t know what to do. The Princess reached out to grab Kylia’s hand, half expecting the annoyed Duchess to withdraw, but was surprised when the young Lady stayed still. Arabella squeezed her hand, “Please, Kylia. Please talk to me, I didn’t mean to say those words. You know that I will always have to be faithful to my husband.” 

Kylia sighed, and then looked up to gaze at her best friend, “I know, Bella… I’m sorry as well, I don’t know what I was thinking by speaking of such things.”

Arabella smiled graciously, and then reached forward to envelope her friend with a hug, “So we can be friends again, right? I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t by my side!”

The Lady of Stratiotis wound her arms around her friend in reciprocation, inhaling her friend’s scent that she had so dearly missed these few long weeks. “Yes, my Bella, we were always friends and always will be friends, do not fret.”

The Princess sighed happily, before whispering, “So, I just had a dance with the King – and he said some things, it was so scary Kylia! I don’t know what to do...”

Lady Kylia snorted, “Bella, he’s the King, what did you expect? You will need to be careful, and just call for me if anything seems amiss.” She pleaded, only wanting the best for her friend.

They were swiftly interrupted by a short trumpet sound from the front of the room. The music ceased immediately and all the dancing guests cleared the floor. The King stood from his throne and exclaimed, “Dear Ladies and Lords of the Kingdom, I welcomed you here today to celebrate the joining of my son, Prince Alaric, with his betrothed Lady Arabella of Angelos. May their union provide endless joy for the Kingdom and many heirs for our family.” He said, eyeing his new daughter-in-law as she sat tensed in her chair across the room. 

A movement from behind him caught her eye, it was Prince Alaric, motioning with his head for her to join him behind his father. As the King continued his speech, Arabella stood gracefully, nodding her goodbye to Kylia and Killian, before silently making her way across the room to stand with her husband.

Once she was stood next to him, Alaric wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled down at her, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. She frowned, staring up at him, before focusing back into the King just as his speech was concluding.

“To commemorate this monumental occasion, and to show our power over our adversaries for many years to come, we shall provide a sacrifice to our Graceful Moon Goddess Selene – may she always love us and protect us from those that wish us harm!”

With a nod from the old man, a small door at the side of the room opened abruptly and crashed into the surrounding stone. Through it, walked two guards hauling something large behind them. Once they settled into the centre of the room, Arabella gasped with horror as her eyes laid upon what was restrained with heavy, silver chains.

It was a young woman, perhaps not much older than she, sprawled on the floor covered in multiple wounds that were bleeding freely. Her hair, black as the night sky that housed their Goddess, was tangled and greasy, cut raggedly as if someone had hacked at it without much care. The eyes that looked up towards the three Royals standing above her were filled with hatred, but also a slight hint of fear – as if she knew what her fate was to be. Her mouth was bound with a white fabric of some sort, wrapped tightly around her head so that it could not be moved. Her arms were tightly bound behind her back with a thick chain, that clanged with every tiny movement that the girl made.

“This woman here is a WITCH!” The King shouted, pointing down the girl. Some guests screamed in fear at his proclamation, backing away from the bound prisoner. Others just watched the proceedings with wide eyes, disbelieving that the King had managed to catch such a specimen.

The King continued in a roar, “Our sworn enemy that is always plotting for the downfall of our Kingdom! We must show them that we are not to be messed with, and what better way than as a sacrifice to our own Goddess. We shall kill this abomination in the hope that our Goddess Selene will grant eternal happiness for our latest Royal coupling – Prince Alaric and Princess Arabella. May their love be eternal and fruitful!”

The Princess squealed with shock as a Moon Priest, that she had not seen beforehand, walked towards the defenceless girl huddled on the floor. Prince Alaric, expecting some resistance from his bride, immediately wrapped his hand around her mouth, muffling the pitiful whines escaping and interrupting the process that was about to occur. She clawed at his arms as they wrapped tightly around her, restricting any movement she could have possibly made.

The Priest raised a large, silver axe above his head. The young Witch stared up at the man with horror on her face as she screamed behind her muzzled mouth, eyes streaming endless tears that dripped onto the floor. Her cries grew higher and louder as the surrounding guards forced her head downwards, in prime position for the execution. 

The Priest looked towards the King, who nodded and watched gleefully as the axe was brought down and the young woman forever silenced, her head removed from her body.

Arabella whimpered as the body slumped to the floor, the head rolling a few metres before stopping – its eyes staring up lifelessly towards them. Arabella almost felt like the eyes were boring straight into her soul, cursing her for what she allowed to happen in her name. She started sobbing silently and tightly gripped her husband as all the guests shouted joyously, “To the King!” Before downing their drinks and smashing them onto the floor.