Beauty who Slept forever!!!

**Lukas’s POV**

I was on my knees like a helpless prisoner, holding a chalice filled with wolfsbane, whereas Kara was drinking in my view like a desperate woman.

“Hey, Sissy,” this time it was not Kara’s voice. Natasha was the one who addressed her, making me turn my head.

“Hi, you know I would be lying if I’ll say that the thought of you coming to save Lukas didn’t cross my mind,” Kara spoke, plastering a fake smile over her grumpy face.

“Still, you didn’t learn the fucking lesson. Don’t you ever get tired of being kicked in the ass all the time? I’m impressed that still, you have got the balls to mess with me,” Natasha retorted with a smirk.

“Don’t forget Natasha, Lukas’s life is in my control. One word from my mouth, and he’s fucking dead!” This time Kara’s voice grew serious, but fuck her if she thinks Natasha is scared.

“Oh, so do you really think that you’ll force Lukas to take his life, while I’ll just sit by, watching and fucking this bloody forest?”

“You can if you desire so, now if you’ll excuse me. I need to convince Lukas to kill himself,” Kara said in a pissed-off voice and then focused her attention on me.

“Lukas, please stop! She is brainwashing you. Put that fucking chalice down,” Natasha spoke, striding towards me. She tried to touch the chalice, but the moment her fingers brushed the surface, a spark of lightning hit her arms, preventing her from touching it. So instead, she shook me hard as if that would help to get some sense in me.

“Well before you die, let me tell you a deadly version of the story Sleeping Beauty,” Kara yawned as if bored, but the look of disgust was still hooked in her eyes.

“Once upon a time, there was a scarred Prince, a bastard child of his father, an unwanted and undesired one. His father’s other family loathed him and his mother, the fated mate of his father. They lived as rogues, rotting in poverty, hardly getting any scrap to eat if they were lucky enough.

Even though everyone despised them and treated them as an abomination, the prince was happy, finding little joy in the surrounding wilderness. His whole day was spent playing with the small animals, swimming in the pond and hunting the food. But the best part was the time of night when his mother would tell him the bedtime stories. He desperately waited for the moment when the moon casts its shadow over the dense canopy, with five billion stars blinking as if even they enjoyed listening to the story of legendary warrior princess Morrighan. He always knew that he had some special connection to Morrighan. On hearing her name, something in his chest pulls so tight that he loses his ability to breathe. Her stories were the only thing which pulled him through tough times. His mother used to tell him that Morrighan was special to him. And this raised questions in his mind.

One night, as usual, his mother was telling him the story of Morrighan. The five-year-old prince could sense something weird in the air. And then they were honoured by an unexpected presence. His father’s wife, the Queen of Artena came to visit them. It was quite an unusual visit for two reasons; one was the Queen was all alone in simple maid’s clothes, as if she came in secret, while the other was it was too late at night.

“My sweet boy, just go to sleep, I’ll be back in some time,” his mother whispered in his ear while rubbing his forehead. The Queen smiled and gifted a red apple to the prince. The poor boy took it reluctantly in his hands, while his mother took the Queen inside their small abode to talk. Unbeknownst to them, the Queen came on a mission. She left after some time, and his mother went outside and slept beside the prince. The next day, his mother asked him to eat the apple brought by the Queen, but the boy refused as he hated his father and his other family, so his mother ate it instead, unaware of it being poisoned by wolfsbane. His mother died due to poisoning, but the poor boy believed that she died due to heartbreak. He was too small to understand death, so he just thought she was in a deep sleep, like the sleeping beauty, and continued stuffing her decomposing mouth with food and water for a whole year. The prince desperately waited and cried for his father to come and wake her mother, but he never came, and his mother drowned in the deep sleep forever.”

I was already crying when Kara finished the story. I never knew Damon’s mother would go to such heights. My mother always accepted her fate and never got involved in my father’s other life. She always respected his decisions and paid a heavy price for that.

“The way your mother died; you should also die. Drink the wolfsbane! It doesn’t matter if you live or die. You are an unwanted piece of shit. Those prisoners and guards at the Northern realm palace treated you like an abomination. You were used as a Guinea pig for Mycelle’s experiments, and a sex slave for King Louris’s harem. I too used you for my own needs, as my heart beats for Damon. This Natasha is also using you. She trapped you in her fake love and convinced you to betray me so that you can mark her. Look at those ugly scars on your body! Do you think anyone can love you with those imperfections? Damon and Rhaegar are desired princes while you are just a piece of disgust. Kill yourself!” Kara’s crude words were enough to drive me over an edge, with a burning desire to end me.

“Lukas, this is not true. Your father, Damon and other siblings have accepted you. Your mother’s love for you is unconditional, she even chose to look after you even after death. You need to free her soul. Those guards, prisoners, Mycelle, King Louris and this Kara are just the temporary persons, who taught you a permanent lesson that shit needs to be flushed away. Whereas you need no proof for my love. It's like that ray of light which will always find a way to the darkest corners of your heart,” Natasha fell to her knees, wrapping me in a tight embrace with her fingers tracing my scars. My body stiffened the moment she placed a soft kiss on a big scar on my chest.

“I am far from perfect,” I whispered in her ears. My whole life I was always treated like an unwanted piece of bone. These scars have become a part of me. They are the reminders that make me feel unwanted, the reminders of times when life tried to break me. They have not just distorted my skin but my identity as well. Although they are just skin-deep, but their roots go deep into my heart, bounding it in their grip like a dead clump of soil. My mother and Natasha are strong women who bear the burden of a weak man like me.

“You know Lukas, that you are breaking my heart by considering yourself as a weak and unwanted man, for you are the man for whom I prayed.” She put my hand on her chest, “Can you feel those beats? My heart beats because you exist. If you are dead, my heart will stop. Let me love you where you’re hurt the most” She swiped her tongue over my scars, “These scars you held are only skin deep. They don’t define you, it's your beautiful heart and soul that defines you. These scars are not proof of your imperfections, but they tell the story of how you survived. They show the monstrosity of those evil and condemned people who are going to pay for every single second they exist in this world, and every damned breath they took. It’s okay to cry, scream and fall apart when life was unfair, but the times have changed, for I love you beyond my limits and yours. You are and always be my dream. I don’t desire for you to be perfect. All I want is you. Wear your scars like the wings, and fly high right into the nests of those vultures, and I will be the wind beneath your wings. Show them how a scarred prince would chop off those filthy hands who dared to carve scars on poor boys. Go ahead and kill her, for you don’t deserve to die, and she is not needed to live.” Natasha’s words were strong enough to liberate me from the feeling of self-loathness. They triggered the hope that ‘I’m still desirable and loved’ which had laid dormant, and somewhere buried in the shadowed corners of my heart.

Kara’s face turned murderous, as she realized that her magic was fading away. She picked up another chalice and moved toward Natasha with evil intentions. With the rage burning through my soul, I lunged forward, piercing the sharp edge of the chalice on Kara’s damned face. The moment, the wolfbane got soaked in the torn skin of her face, she metamorphized into her Siren form, a decomposed one, and within seconds melted into a black putty.

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