Once Love, Now Destruction


(Alistair’s P.O.V.)

I opened the door to my father’s private office, knowing they would be in there, pretending to work while they waited for me to arrive. Only the immediate royal family could enter, very private and secretive. It was like an emptied library; only the few documents that survived the fire were organized in perfect white folders, and were carefully placed into the dark cabinets.

Painted family portraits were hung elegantly, standing out on the pale walls. Some of them were of fallen heroes, Nicole and Christian’s parents were hung above the aged leather couch. Michelle’s portraits were among our families, above my father’s desk. There were only two of them.

The first one was just her. The unnamed artist painted her perfectly; her dark hair framed beautiful her face. Her green eyes burned just as bright and lively as the day I first saw her. Her cheeks were lightly tinted with pink which contrasted against her soft ivory skin tone. Her smile was blinding, causing my heart to clench. She was only five years old when that picture was painted.

The second one was of both of us, in her garden. It was painted like all the rest of them, yet this one was more special. It was painted by Nicole and Christian’s mother a few months before she died. It was the last picture she painted and was the last one of Michelle and her garden before they were both destroyed by the unforgiving flames.

She was wearing her favorite dress. The lace was as white as the snow surrounding us and the long sleeves were draped gracefully on her slender arms. The skirt of the dress fluttered slightly in the wind, her dark hair was pulled back into a diamond in crested clip, exposing her angelic face. Her green eyes were locked on mine in the picture, as mine were on hers.

I was so naïve, so stupid back then; I didn’t know the tragedy that would happen just two years later. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

I turned away from the portrait, and faced my parents, who wouldn’t look me in the eye, “Nicole said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” my father hesitated, and gestured for me to sit on the leather couch. “There’s something we would like to discuss with you.”

I did as he said, sitting next to my mother who wore a guilty expression on her beautiful face. She placed her hand on my right knee, looking down at the wooded floor.

“Well, what is it?” I frowned as I looked at my mother.

“You know that we love you with all of our hearts, and we want what’s best for you, right?” she bit down on her bottom lip.

I nodded, unsure where this was headed.

“And you know that you’re going to take the throne soon,” my father added on.

I nodded again.

“Now we want to keep an open mind on what were about to say,” he continued, running his hand through his hair.

“Alistair… you have to get married to take the throne,” my mother squeezed my knee slightly.

“No,” I hissed, baring my teeth. “You promised me that I wouldn’t have to marry anyone.”

“The court’s changed their minds, we tried everything we could,” she explained glumly.

I felt my anger threatening to boil over, “So what your saying is I have to find someone, that I don’t like, who isn’t Michelle and marry her?”

“Not exactly,” my father frowned. “They already picked out a bride for you.”

“What?!” I could taste venom leaking in my mouth leaving a bitter taste. I shot up from my seat, and my mother stood up with me.

“She’ll be here in a few moments,” she sighed. “Her name is Cynda Downing, Xavier Downing is her father.”

“That damn court leader?”

They nodded; my mother wrapped her fragile arms around me, “I’m so sorry, Alistair.”

I said nothing as she released me, and there was a knock at the door, “Miss Cynda Downing is here,” Amy’s sweet voice traveled through the door.

“Thank you, Amy,” my father called back to her as he opened the door, and motioned for me to follow him.

I stalked beside him, growling under my breath.

I hated Xavier. I hated him almost as much as I hated the dog. He wanted to personally make my life more of a living hell than it already was. If I refused to take the throne, then his family would be in power, which would have happened if he didn’t piss me off so much. He talked about Michelle like she was nothing, like she was like any other human. She knew that he hated her, hell, the whole court hated her, but she was perfectly nice to him and all the other court members anyways. And he still talks about her, and it would take all my father had to keep me from ripping his worthless head off. And now that greedy son of bitch wants me to marry his slut of a daughter.

We made it to the foyer and there stood Xavier and a blonde girl. She would probably be considered pretty by anybody but me. She was a fake. Her face was coated in makeup, and her unnatural blonde hair was curled into ringlets. Her sea foam colored eyes were narrowed, expecting. She wore a dark blue dress that came down to her knees, exposing her perfect pale skin. And even though she didn’t really dress like a slut, I could tell she was one. Probably putting on this façade to please ‘Daddy’.

“Your majesties,” Xavier greeted curtly as he and his daughter bowed before us.

“Xavier,” my father glared at him slightly, mine however was not so slight. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” he almost scoffed and motioned towards the… thing. That was a fitting name for her, The Thing. “This is my daughter, Cynda.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she flashed us a fake smile, her eyes lingering on me.

I kept my face blank and stayed silent.

“Would you like to join us in the library, to discuss the… arrangements?” my mother smiled politely at them.

Damn you Xavier. Damn you to the fiery pits of hell to burn for eternity where you belong.


(Nicole’s P.O.V.)

I made sure Alistair wasn’t around as I snuck into the cells. The humans backed into their cells, trying not to be seen.

“For the last time, I’m not going to hurt you,” I hissed, irritated. “Stupid humans.”

They never learn. They were all self absorbed, petty, vile creatures. Well most of them were, Michelle was the exception, Elizabeth, I think was too.

I undid the heavy locks on the metal door, and I saw her. Her face was buried into the dirt; her small frame shook as her sobs echoed through throughout the cell. She clutched her right hand, pressing it against her chest. The dog stood over her, just staring at her.

I growled at him, forcing him to back off. He just narrowed his eyes at me and stalked back into his corner.

“Elizabeth,” I kneeled down beside her, “let me see your hand.”

She rolled onto her side and released her right hand from her left one. I saw black blotches surrounding Alistair’s silver ring. Her skin was literally peeling of her flesh, blood ran down her arm, and my mouth watered with venom, but I managed suppressing my thirst. Her wrist looked broken, it was bent awkwardly. And her whole hand was stained red, and not just with blood.

“Damn,” I breathed, he never burned someone that bad before, “I’m…so, so sorry Elizabeth,” I told her grasping her other unharmed hand.

“I-i-it’s ok-okay,” she choked out, bringing her injured hand back to her chest.

“No it’s not,” I wanted so badly to get Alistair back.

She nuzzled her face back into the dirt; she looked like she was in too much pain to even speak.

“Christian’s coming back tomorrow,” I informed her, sitting down next to her. “He set the money you saved on the counter, like you said. And he’s bringing your plant.”

She whimpered.

“You didn’t tell me you were abused,” I frowned. “Or that your dad was an alcoholic.”

She didn’t look at me, like she did want to admit it.

“Why are you giving him money, when all he did was hurt you?” I tried to understand, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

“I-I lo-love hi-him,” her breath came out in short, shallow gasps.

Just like Michelle, she loved the people who hated her.
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WHO HATES CYNDA?!?! I DO!!!! I have a new story, and it's called 'Let The Games Begin' and it is all of my stories that I'm currently working on collected together! Michelle and Alistair are in it =]