Post by Deleted on Sept 5, 2016 22:14:39 GMT -5
She had been so stupid…
The thought repeated itself over and over again in the mind of the princess as she laid there, in a disheveled, bloodied heap on the floor. For all her practice, all her lessons, and for her reputation of refinement the Princess Martine was a mess, her dress was torn, her body bruised, and bloodied with whipping marks. Today had been the day she had hosted the bardic contest, today she had shined as both princess and musician; however, Stephane had seen it differently, her assistance with the harvest festival had been according to him a betrayal to their family, a betrayal to him personally as she had assisted their cousin. If she only would have lied to him then maybe it wouldn’t have been this bad, but while she had tried to be diplomatic Martine wasn’t going to pretend she was being his little spy. Nor, was she going to attempt some elaborate story just to sway his anger, but rather there had been some hope that he would have seen the simple logic behind her reasoning; all she had ever wanted was to be respected as a musician. ‘Such lowly ambitions are pathetic for one of royal blood’... that was the kind words her brother offered his sister before the punishment was ordered.
It had been months since Stephane had ordered his men to beat her, something only done when Emile wasn’t at the palace. He would have stopped it, protected her, but he had been sent away again thus Martine had in a way been condemned. However this time with the rage boiling inside of the Prince, the beating was worse, Martine truly thought she might die. That sudden fear gave the Princess the spark of inspiration, or dare say it courage, to fight back. If she continued to let them whip her with the riding crop, beat her, or whatever else Stephane might think of that would be allowing her older brother to win. It was in that rare moment of rebellion that the girl made her decision feigning weakness while waiting for the weapon to come within reach.
The shock on their faces had been worth it, as the fragile doll ripped the riding crop from the grips of the guard before smashing the handle into his eye as hard as she could. She did not wait to see the damage, but instead turned to flee right before Stephane lept forward to cut her off by bringing his fist to her face. The hit sent Martine whirling backwards into the door of the room causing her vision to momentarily blur. Panic coursed through the young woman’s veins as she could hear movement towards her again. She couldn’t let him catch her, not again, her hand reached for the handle of the door of his study quickly opening it before sliding through. Stephane's strong hand reached out through the crack to grab the door, likely in an attempt to keep her from shutting it. The Prince did not expect the hidden strength inside his little sister as she used her body to slam the door of his study shut not caring that his hand was stuck in the door jam.
As she had ran down the halls she had heard her brother's screams, curses, and threats made against her. Surely if anyone would see the Princess the secret would be out, and certainly her father would be well aware that something was amiss if he was in their wing of the palace. Still, Martine hadn’t stopped running towards Nicolette’s wing, what she saw to be her only saving grace would be to throw herself on her cousin’s mercy for protection. It was with that thought in mind that the young Princess had ran down the barren halls until finally realizing she had finally reached the wing of the kings daughters and that was when her legs gave way. The adrenaline had vanished as the wounds and the restrictions of the Princess' body had finally caught up to her. Toppling over onto the floor the girl hoped that someone from the royal party would find her before her brother's men.
Clara Delamara
The thought repeated itself over and over again in the mind of the princess as she laid there, in a disheveled, bloodied heap on the floor. For all her practice, all her lessons, and for her reputation of refinement the Princess Martine was a mess, her dress was torn, her body bruised, and bloodied with whipping marks. Today had been the day she had hosted the bardic contest, today she had shined as both princess and musician; however, Stephane had seen it differently, her assistance with the harvest festival had been according to him a betrayal to their family, a betrayal to him personally as she had assisted their cousin. If she only would have lied to him then maybe it wouldn’t have been this bad, but while she had tried to be diplomatic Martine wasn’t going to pretend she was being his little spy. Nor, was she going to attempt some elaborate story just to sway his anger, but rather there had been some hope that he would have seen the simple logic behind her reasoning; all she had ever wanted was to be respected as a musician. ‘Such lowly ambitions are pathetic for one of royal blood’... that was the kind words her brother offered his sister before the punishment was ordered.
It had been months since Stephane had ordered his men to beat her, something only done when Emile wasn’t at the palace. He would have stopped it, protected her, but he had been sent away again thus Martine had in a way been condemned. However this time with the rage boiling inside of the Prince, the beating was worse, Martine truly thought she might die. That sudden fear gave the Princess the spark of inspiration, or dare say it courage, to fight back. If she continued to let them whip her with the riding crop, beat her, or whatever else Stephane might think of that would be allowing her older brother to win. It was in that rare moment of rebellion that the girl made her decision feigning weakness while waiting for the weapon to come within reach.
The shock on their faces had been worth it, as the fragile doll ripped the riding crop from the grips of the guard before smashing the handle into his eye as hard as she could. She did not wait to see the damage, but instead turned to flee right before Stephane lept forward to cut her off by bringing his fist to her face. The hit sent Martine whirling backwards into the door of the room causing her vision to momentarily blur. Panic coursed through the young woman’s veins as she could hear movement towards her again. She couldn’t let him catch her, not again, her hand reached for the handle of the door of his study quickly opening it before sliding through. Stephane's strong hand reached out through the crack to grab the door, likely in an attempt to keep her from shutting it. The Prince did not expect the hidden strength inside his little sister as she used her body to slam the door of his study shut not caring that his hand was stuck in the door jam.
As she had ran down the halls she had heard her brother's screams, curses, and threats made against her. Surely if anyone would see the Princess the secret would be out, and certainly her father would be well aware that something was amiss if he was in their wing of the palace. Still, Martine hadn’t stopped running towards Nicolette’s wing, what she saw to be her only saving grace would be to throw herself on her cousin’s mercy for protection. It was with that thought in mind that the young Princess had ran down the barren halls until finally realizing she had finally reached the wing of the kings daughters and that was when her legs gave way. The adrenaline had vanished as the wounds and the restrictions of the Princess' body had finally caught up to her. Toppling over onto the floor the girl hoped that someone from the royal party would find her before her brother's men.
Clara Delamara