Thread: Beauty & the Beast (Saber x Evette)

Don't let your hair down, her friend, Ambrosia, had warned in the carriage ride. Her devious, clever eyes resting on Ambrosia's exposed shoulder unto the waves of brown that cascaded down her breast and near her waist. She hated when Ambrosia pried and poked, but she had her point. And why is that? Quintessa asked anyway, coy and mock-curious as she reread her maps. The carriage driver had told her less than an hour. Quintessa checked with the compass ruler, and estimated thirty minutes. Oh how she was ready to get out of the bumbling of the carriage, even if it meant onto greater, more terrible things. Like being a pawn to a monster of a man, or torn from all of her friends and family. Gods, she hated her father. You know why. You will be too.. Sia trailed off bashfully, a warmth touching her cheeks. ..enticing? Quintessa ended, her dark eyes resting on her friend seriously. Darling, I am wearing lace and silk under this garish amalgamation of Borovian fashion, and you think my hair will be what does it? Really Ambrosia, could you please give me any better advice? She asked with a sigh, her usual quiet nature erupting in irritation. A dark swoop of fear had been pooling in her belly since the news that she was to marry the Monster of Borovia, the King General who had so easily put her father and brothers on their knees. And here she was, a pawn in such games of thrones and borderlines. She wanted to cry, but knew better. There was a sullen quietness about the carriage, and Ambrosia finally spoke up again. I wonder why he insisted on roses on your undergarments..? It sounds.. she trailed off again, and this time Tessa didn't finish the sentence. ..romantic, she said zealously. Quintessa looked at her thoughtfully, finding it amusing her friend tried to make this seem like a good thing. A dark, mysterious man, supposedly tall and powerful. They called him the Monster of Borovia, and the reasons why were never quite clear to the Arkan Princess. She assumed it was due to his nature.. and not, something more cynical in the realms of magic and demons. The want to touch another person, to feel the warmth and breath of a man on her neck was something she had dared dream in the darkest parts of her. Where her father wouldn't allow her to be courted by any person, tucking her away for such grand schemes as surrender or scape goats. What a coward of a man. Quintessa sighed as she looked out the window to her new Kingdom. A darkly beautiful place, with hauntingly tall trees and a castle of awe on the horizon. It was when the carriage driver finally slowed the cart in front of the beast of an artifice, did the real fear settle into her heart and stick viciously to her spine. She swallowed thickly and said goodbye to Ambrosia. A kiss on the cheek and a wave. And she was escorted to the castle. The King of Borovia, the butler announced with a showish bow and a grand gesture of his gloved hands. And Quintessa of Arka stepped into the dimly lit inner court. Holding her heavy, intricate dresses, she bowed demurely to the largeness of a man. Feeling his power hold attention of everyone in the room like a vice. She bowed to him out of respect, not power. She was not her father. A pure pleasure to finally meet you, your Majesty, she said, her voice all velvet and smoke. She waited for his response, not daring to peer at him.