One must not hesitate when one is about to enter the swamp;
hesitation itself turns the mire into a grave.
~Victor Serge
***
It suddenly felt like the world held its breath when truly, the sounds ceased, the ravenous voices and laughter slurring into a long suffocating silence. Even the music long faded, adding to the sudden tension in the room.
Run, somewhere inside her mind yelled, but her body betrayed her. It always did. How far would she make it when the people surrounding her suddenly felt like wolves and not humans? To the street? The shore? Vladoryn?
A shiver ran down her spine, understanding dawning of the fate that awaits her there. She doubted if she'd even make it through that door.
Her face was pale, almost white as chalk, and her heart pounded vigorously against her chest for what would happen next. Biting her lips firmly against her teeth until the taste of crimson stained her tongue, she finally heard a sound breaking the barrier of silence.
The burn from her right cheek escalated around her body, suddenly making her muscles feel sore as her left ear stung in pain certain for deafness. Ravenna struggled to sit properly, her cascading silver hair blocking her side profiles, but couldn't afford to stand.
Hot tears welled in her eyes, clogging her vision until it spilled, strolling down her cheeks. She slightly trembled, fighting hard not to let the sudden rush of emotions eat deep and allow it to consume her but it was strong, almost unstoppable.
A part of her knew her chances were long dimmed and there was no way out now. No way. One way or the other, someone might recognize her. Not a chance by her face but her silver hair.
When she was little, she heard people gossip about her hair color, some in awe, a few out of fear, and others in irritation, and it didn't take a second to pin the fact that hers was rare, the first but not the last, since Second Princess Olenna Ashwraithe followed suit.
Once or twice, she caught a glimpse of the Princess, her silver hair either braided or let to a perfect bun, or sometimes dyed black. Ravenna didn't need to be told she was ashamed of her hair color, a few times noticing sadness beneath the unbreakable gaze built for regime and power. No matter how hard she tried to look unaffected by her parents' unaffection and the tests and experiments rumored to be carried out to ensure she was human, there was always a crack somewhere, not in places people saw.
Some said she was a Witch, maids often gossiped about how her eyes changed color, her dirty brown teeth, and wrinkles around her face every sunny days but the royals always had their ways of covering even the darkest secret.
As if to confirm her dread, "Seems like Browny isn't Browny at all," His sarcasm was low and venomous and she recalled where she heard that nickname from, sending a swarm of terror over her entire body.
Then he laughed, striding toward her. She could feel his cold gaze on her skin and she crawled behind, heart racing when she heard him say, "I hear there are two people with silver hair and it makes me curious where you belong."
He stared at her, loaming her figure like a predator waiting to strike. "The Princess of Vladoryn or the Usurper's daughter," Then he grinned, taking pleasure in her reaction. "My bet is on the latter. Though I'm pained, failing to prove those royal dicks are unsatisfying for a Princess than a commoner's cock."
A round of laughter boomed across the room, rattling the table, thereby returning life to the room. Ravenna felt her skin crawl, nausea hitting hard but she held onto the last strand of endurance she could find.
He joined, his laughter dark and cold, until his eyes found her stiff figure vulnerable on the floor. He marched forward, "Pray tell me, how does it feel knowing fully well your father was a coward? He bent his knees to sorceresses craving life and wealth, yet received nothing but dust in return?" He arched a brow, and Ravenna clenched her fist, grinding her teeth at the manner her father was addressed but that didn't make him stop. "Perhaps he served as their puppet instead of their master. Only a fool finds gold and flings it into thin air to be swept away in ashes. Betraying his Kingdom for a Witch's cunt? Or was it her evil spell that bound him?"
There was another round of cruel laughter, but Ravenna barely heard, blinded by fury and glaring holes beneath at the ill comments soiling her father's name. Despite her father allying with witches, he did it all in the favor of protecting humans! And this was how he was remembered. As the Usurper and she, his daughter.
Her blood thundered in her ears, hotter than fire and the spread of heat around her body threatened to scorch her veins. But the rush of emotions was crueler, an unfair blend of fear, anger, and irritation.
She stared at his boot a few inches from her face and before she could gather her breath, he fisted her hair.
With a violent yank, he dragged her head back, forcing her eyes to meet his dark gaze and face covered in sweat, receiving another cry in return. "Pray tell me, how does it feel to fall from the lofty halls of nobility to the gutter's mire? From highborn to filth. From noble blood to harlot's flesh. Shame? Regret? Pleasure? Or mayhap thy heart longeth most for the coward escape: the sweet release of death by thine own hands?" He ended using the archaic tone laced with mock pity.
The disdain in his tone raised the hair on her skin. And gods help her, he wasn't wrong, at least, not about the last. Something dark coiled deeper in her chest, spreading until her heart quivered against his grip. And when he tightened his hold, the pain tore a sharp cry from her throat.
"It's a pity your coward father isn't alive to narrate how it feels to bury himself inside a witch. Your mother wasn't enough?" He taunted, earning a threatening glare from those furious eyes.
He smirked, "We commmoners would've hailed him, provided tits to lay his head on and whores to clean his feet than Vladoryn's criticism. I doubt the witch's cunt was ugly, or else, he wouldn't have died in the same flames that leaked up the preminition."
Her blood burned in anger as she struggled but amidst her misery, her thoughts raced at his last sentence. Premonition?
"Coward," She heard someone spat, and the men behind him jeered, their stormy laughter thundering through the room followed by their tunkards slamming against the wooden table, coins rattling in drunken fists, and the flames in the hearth spat embers as if mocking her too.
Ravenna's blood thundered in her eyes until the world felt drowned in it. Her body trembled but her eyes glared upward, defiant beneath his gaze.
In the corners, whorish girls flaunted their flesh, dancing over laps and pouring wine down to eager throats yet even their shrill laughter faltered to watch the spectacle at the center of the room.
"But I love your hair," he snarled, staring down at it. The overwhelming stench coming from his mouth churned her stomach and she struggled to move her face away, seeking fresh air however, he jerked her head backward and another cry tore from her throat. "And I'll fuck you until your hair glistens and your knees beg for mercy. I'll taste every single drop of your soul, until your coward drops down from hell yelling I proceed,"
"Ah!" Tears welled in the corners of her eyes at the pain coming from her scalp. It was so sharp that she was certain her hair might pull just with a little pressure, and she glared at him, her ocean-eyes blue eyes glistening in pure fury. The despair singed her veins, spreading like an ill pollution, blistering fully at the mocking laughter rattling the room.
And before she could recover, he grabbed her skirts, shredding them and a scream tore her throat, tears falling uncontrollably. "NO, NO, NO! Please!"
The tavern roared in approval when benches toppled, mugs slammed against tables, and the air thickened with her terror. Just when she thought she would be strong, her body trembled in fear and dread.
Gathering a strength she never had, she waited and gained enough force attempting to knee-butt him, but he was quicker, trapping her legs in between his, and both hands caged upwards.
And color drained from her face as her heart thumped wildly against her chest. "NO!!! NO, PLEASE, NO!!!" And the tavern roared, taking her screams as their entertainment, men knocking down coins, betting who would have her next.
Halfway through, a loud menacing shriek rattled the noises in the tavern followed by the sound of overlapping wings, its menacing silhouette fueling wrath upon the room as the windows blasted and the entire curtains caught on fire.
***