Dagmar
There is a fire fairy dancing in the snow.
I close my eyes. I must be hallucinating. There’s no other explanation. The winter already started, no woman would be crazy enough to dance on the snow with this cold. Sadly.
I had too much alcohol last night with Corrigan.
I take a deep breath and I open them again.
The fairy is still there.
In the middle of the snow, the wind caressing her fire red hair like the hand of a lover, the several clothes and layers of fur unable to hide the promise of the warm skin and curves under it, the fairy dances and laughs.
I start walking, inebriated by her moves. The wind carries the sound of her laugh to my ears. I never heard such a vibrant and warm sound before.
I keep walking in her direction, unable to stop even if I wanted. Not that I want.
I don’t care if she is an illusion or not.
I’m close enough now that I can see her red lips, half-closed in a smile, as waiting for a lover’s kiss. Icy skin softly colored by the blood running under it. I raise my hand. I need to touch it, to see if it’s as soft as it looks.
My hand seems so big and dark in comparison with her pale skin.
The fairy opens her eyes. My heart stops on my chest.
Each time I look into Gwyneth’s blue eyes, my heart still misses one beat. Her skin was the softest thing I ever touched.
When I saw her, I knew that she would be mine. No matter the cost. No matter the price.
What I didn’t think was that she would be the one paying it.
Before entering my office, I send the two guards that stand at the door away. I want to be alone.
Traitor, traitor, traitor.
I don’t bother lighting the fireplace. For what I have just ordered, I deserve to freeze to death.
Though none of this would be happening if I wasn’t too selfish to die.
My hands shake when I grab the bottle and start drinking.
I was shocked to learn that the fire fairy was my cousin’s fiancée. Corrigan was always more like a brother to me than my own blood brothers. But even that didn’t stop me from going after her.
As the 7th prince, I was never supposed to rule. But when I learned that Gwyneth is the heir of Ashpyre, I had to become King.
Murder. Traitor. Liar.
In Synkaid, the heir to the throne it’s not decided based on birth order, neither is restricted by gender, despite so far, no female had ever been appointed as heir. The oldest 6 princes and 6 princesses compete on the Heir Selection, a competition with only 1 rule. No murders.
In the end, one of them is appointed as heir.
The rest have posts and positions given to them, based on their results.
One week after Gwyneth’s arrival at the court, my 2nd brother died of a heart attack, allowing me to participate.
Courtesy of the poisoned wine I gave him.
I never wished the crown, and I wasn’t even one of the candidates, reason why my brother never suspected my intentions.
He had no way to know that a fire fairy made me want it to present it to her.
I proposed to Gwyneth, not as a worthless prince, but as a future king.
I took her virginity before the competition ended before I asked her hand in marriage.
By then she was probably already carrying my child on her womb. Not that I told that to King Shauen.
Gwyneth's eyes look to me from the paint hanging on the wall. Her father presented it to me at our wedding. Her eyes shine of happiness and innocence.
I imagine their expression when she is told that the child died.
I smash the bottle against the wall.
Traitor, traitor, traitor.
I was so focused on seducing Gwyneth and winning the competition that I didn’t even remember the prophecy until the day Gwyneth told me she was pregnant.
I was so consumed by the fire on my veins, the need of claiming her, making her mine and to show her that I am hers too.
-Would you still have laid with her even if you remembered it? – asks the voice on my head.
Yes, God forgives me, but I would.
There is nothing on this earth that could stop me from wanting her, from making her mine. Even now, just the thought of her it’s enough to make me hard.
Why does the woman I love have to be the one paying the price for my own irresponsibility and lack of control?
I walk from one side of the office to the other, running my hand on my hair.
All I wanted was to make her happy and to see her smile.
Every night, I held in my hand the potion that would make her miscarry the child. And every night, I didn’t have the courage to use it, to make her go through such pain.
And now it’s too late for it.
The price of saving her from that pain is making her suffer much more.
I hate this child with all my heart. If wasn’t for the child, Gwyneth wouldn’t have to suffer.
Liar.
I grab a new bottle and I keep drinking until I can’t hear anymore the voice on my head.
Just a few more days, I keep telling myself.
When I finish the bottle, I finally have the courage to go back to our room.
