In My Hands
The guard took a bow and left. Happy to have done his duty and now aiming to return to his game of roll-the-dice with his colleagues… After that, planning to head to the local brothel to statuously intimidate a free jug of ale from the bartender.
He left, with his hands still by the hilt of his sword, marching in a straight line and out with immediate effect. He had done an unecessary briefing to the King as to why the girls were here, before he was thrown a bag of copper pieces and sent off to his way. Hopping on his feet, even more jovial than he was before.
But Bella and Freya weren't in the same upbeat mood…
As they now stood before a menacing figure, half the size of the throne he sat on—having a height shockingly tall. With piercing green eyes that stood sharp as a blade yet smooth as a pebble, and glowed brighter than the emeralds set in golden frames that bejewelled his fingers.
They both stood frozen as he sat there, almost motionless. Watching them like animals in a reserve. And analysing their expressions, with his eyes moving from Bella to Freya, Freya to Bella, and then back. Now staying fixed. Squinting and then frowning—with brows furrowed and lips suddenly tensed.
Freya could sense his eyes boring into her even as she faced the floor to avoid his gaze. She wondered why he stared at her so intensely when she looked like a dusty silhouette of a broken maiden. Her clothes were stained and rumpled. Covered in some places in blotches of mud. And yet he was still somehow intrigued?…
'What is he thinking?’ Freya asked herself in her head. Completely flustered at his unwavering attention on her.
Her hands came together and folded in a bunch in front of her legs. As she glanced at Bella who faced the floor too, but looking sideways; both waiting for something to happen—as the silence that filled the room was enough to break reality in half.
“So you are Alpha Darren's Mate?” A loud and ruthless voice suddenly boomed.
And the echo that reverberated around the room was astonishing. As it rang loud like the voice came from the Heavens. It held authority and tenacity. A strength that shook both women to the core of their being. Making their bellies churn and their heads turn into a house of migraines.
Freya almost fell of her feet at the suddenness and speed of the voice. The accent it held and the sensuality of its intonation. She could feel her legs quaver, daring to fail her and make her slump to the ground. His voice was commanding and it held her captive for such a brief yet prolonged moment, it moved her to gasp at it's weight and intensity.
She couldn't even fully remember the question that was asked. As after the quake of its forceful release from his lips, she barely managed to hold her balance by the toes of her feet; too occupied with trying to regain her composure.
“I believe I asked a question…” his voice boomed the second time. Now louder than before.
“Yes, I am!…” Freya answered suddenly, not knowing when she did.
Her eyes raising upward to review the damage she had done. And Bella staring at her bewildered, wondering why she had actually conceded to the question.
But they both knew they needed to answer. Because if they didn't, their necks would have to answer to a blade. Or even worse, they would get thrown back into the dungeons…
“Is that so?” the towering man asked now, with a brow raised. Looking over Freya from her head to toe. At her torn dress and dusty knees. She didn't look like much to him... And it almost made him laugh to think this was Alpha Darren's Mate?… That this creature in front of him was actually his Luna?
Yet he didn't know how special Freya was. And his condescension was solely based on her appearance, as much as his ignorance on her uniqueness…
He chuckled lightly as he eased himself further in his throne. The jewels on his fingers clanging against each other in a symphony that only expressed wealth and abundance. His hair bouncing on his head in rythm as he moved. Some strands falling over his eyes, making him look more of a super model than a King…
“Hmph…” he huffed.
“You don't look like any Luna I have ever seen.” He said now, growling lightly. As he turned to face Bella.
“And who is she?” he asked, in tandem. As he slowly raised a finger, and did so nonchanantly. Pointing it down towards her like a despot choosing which exotic animal he'd like to buy—or slave he'd like to sell…
“She's…she's my frie-…”
“No true Queen ever has friends…” the man boomed instantaneously. So fast, it surprised Freya. As she hadn't even completely gotten out her sentence…
But the man on the throne didn't care as he wanted to speak. And when he willed to do so, it was custom for everyone around him previously speaking to be interrupted…
“A Queen only has an entourage of supporters…” he explained unexpectedly, with his eyes cold in benign calculation. “And a band of constantly trailing sycophants…” he added, rubbing his nose that didn't itch, but for dramatic effect. “As a queen is a title possessed by a woman above women. And one worthy of envy…” he stressed, intentional…
“A true queen only has friends destined to turn enemies…” he warned, finally. Now having his eyes glaze like window blinds on a summer evening; relaxed and calm.
“She is not needed…” he said, grithing his teeth.
And now Freya's eyes raised up slowly from the ground, her brows furrowed in sudden uncontrollable anger. As she looked at the man in front of her with a sudden deep-seated annoyance.
He just insulted her best friend and now she was livid to breaking point…
“And you are not important!…” she yelled back, belligerent. Aimless in the most basic sense.
But the man simply smiled in response…
He wanted to push her buttons and had succeeded. As he now stood up from his throne. Head high and looking down at the two friends, with flared nostrils.
“I am not important, yes…” he said slowly, with his smirk now turning into a grin.
“Yet your lives are in my hands…”