❥[Blind Rage]
[Warning-Slight NSFW Mentions]
You knew this marriage was a mistake.
You knew from the moment your eyes met, his eyes glimmering with a mischievous, almost childlike curiosity. Like he was wondering how long you would last before you began to bore him.
Your mother was the one who set the marriage up in the first place, that greedy old bag cared not for your comfort but only for what riches and status marrying off her child to a King would bring her. She was the one there to witness your first meeting, and also the one who later shamed you for grimacing at the Kings behavior throughout said meeting.
He couldn't stop making jests about your body and yet you were the inappropriate one?
Perhaps you should've become a nun, maybe then you wouldn't have to deal with a such an obscene and uncaring husband like him.
Ah but a lady can only dream, now that you've married him you know your family won't take you back after an annulment. They'd blame you for costing them the riches and status so few could have, or even imagine.
No, you were stuck, here in this rotted castle. With a husband who walks around with other women's marks on him. Wearing them as though they are trophies.
Even now, as he slurps on a soup you ever so carefully picked to cater to his unique tastes, you can tell he's paid yet another visit to a brothel. His hair is disheveled, his clothes are messy and wrinkled, and he bares purpley-blue bruises across both his neck and some of his collar bone.
Was he trying to piss you off?
You squeeze your spoon harder at the thought that there were likely more of those damn bruises hiding beneath his sparce clothing.
How you wish you could kill him.
He feels your eyes, glaring into the crown of his head and removes his attention away from the bowl of broth and veggies to gaze into your eyes. His mouth twisted into a smug smirk. Like he knew that what he was doing would ruin not just his, but your reputation as well, and he didn't give a single fuck.
His gaze met yours, and for a moment, you looked into those amber eyes. They reminded you a bit of the sun's rays fading away as it sets. Some might call them beautiful- you?
You want to gouge them out with a spoon.
After a moment of boring into eachothers eyes, the King finally relents. Leaning his head onto his palm and closing his eyes, he sighs heavily. "There is no need for such aggression, aren't I your husband? A good wife wouldn't glare at her husband like that."
"A good husband wouldn't bed other women." You respond flatly, sipping on the broth atop you spoon.
"Oh is that what upsets you so? Do my late night romps around the capital truly anger you dear?", He blinked his eyes at you innocently. As though his innocent guise was ever enough to fool you. "Perhaps it is all that built up tension that makes you so full of rage. Do you wish for me to find you a lover?"
You nearly choked on a piece of chicken. You snap your head up at him and slam your fists down on the table, causing silverware to fly and broth to spill.
"What makes you think I wish to engage in the same perversions as you!? You're lucky I even agreed to marry you. I doubt you would be able to find another noble as desperate as I."
His eye shoot up in surprise at your tone of voice. He's use to the venom that spills from your lips time to time, but this?
Oh this was new.
It makes a shiver of excitement run down his back at the thought of angering you so much.
"Hoh~?..And what would my dear mother in law think? Insulting your husband, whose provided your precious family with a riches they couldn't have even dreamed of before. How truly ungrateful you are, tch." He twirled a fork in his hand. Toying with it as he did your life. Without a single care if he flung you around, dropped you, or bent you backwards.
You hated it.
You hated all of it.
The palace
The crown
The riches
The status
The feasts
The etiquette
The cold sheets you lay in at night.
The husband who seemed to never want a wife but a plaything to toy with.
Every single fucking thing about it.
Oh the rage, you feel it bubbling inside like hot stew of fiery fury and hatred. You feel it rubbing within every inch and every crevice of your skin, burning hot like the flames of those burned at the stake.
"Oh my dear love, do not look at me with such hate in your eyes." His voice sounded throughout the room, echoing the sickeningly sweet pity he held for his poor Queen. "If you are so angered by my need to indulge myself in other women then perhaps you should offer yourself to me instead letting the ladies at the brothel do so." A crooked grin gracing his features as he spoke.
You could feel the rage burning up your body only grow hotter as you seethe with gnashed teeth.
"YOU- you were the one who refused to take honeymoon. Dear."
Maintaining your composure even in the most vexing circumstances was something your mother had shoved down your throat constantly during your etiquette lessons with her. It only got worse once the deal with the royal family had been made.
You had to be perfect for him, you had to dress in bone tight corsets, and ruffled dresses more befitting of a doll than a human being. And don't even me started on the skincare and make up routine. Your skin had been run ragged with how much you'd caked on to it. You're lucky you were the queen otherwise you likely would've had your makeup confiscated.
Everything you had put forth, all in an effort to attract a man who had the maturity and intelligence of a twelve year old boy. How pathetic.
Truly pathetic.
Breathing in slowly, you could feel your tear ducts starting to water. Not out sadness or pity, but overwhelming anger and disappointment. You didn't deserve this. No you deserved far better than a husband who couldn't even lay in the same bed as you.
You push yourself up with a shove of the table, the action causes a slight surprise to flash across the kings face, before reverting back to his typically smirk.
"And where are you going dear? I hope you don't plan to leave without being excused by your king?"
"Elsewhere. Good day, your highness."
