The Dark Prince

I'm suddenly aware of everything.

First is the pain, striking right between my temples. It makes me wince, until I realise that my facial muscles are stiff. As I raise my hand to touch them, my wrist hits concrete, my skin raw as I yelp in pain.

Darkness surrounds me, as my eyes slowly peel open, seeing nothing but swirling colour on a black canvas in my vision.

The air is stale, as I breathe in deeply, my joints clicking in response. I must have fallen asleep in an odd position, as all my limbs feel numb.

And then it hits me. Where am I? Who am I? No matter how deep I scrape the back of mind, everything comes up blank.

I remember nothing.

"Help!" I yell, pressing the palms of my hands against the ceiling above me, the bite of cold from it striking through my tender skin.

My voice is hoarse, unused, scratching painfully at my throat. "Please someone help me!"

A yelp sounds from whatever concrete casing I'm trapped in, and then some frantic mumbling.

I'm not sure what is going on, where I am and how I've come to be without any memory, I just know I need to get out of here and breathe real air.

For a moment there is silence, and then the sound of more talking before everything around me seems to vibrate.

My hands fly to my ears, covering them from the sound of scraping that echoes through the small concrete box.

A small crack suddenly appears in my world of darkness, blinding light streaming in. With my hand draped over my eyes, I lay still until the sound of scraping stops. I can't see anything, and I'm not about to open my eyes to the light.

"Princess, you're alive," someone calls.

My eyes open slowly as I'm helped into sitting position.

My bones ache, as if I've been lying in the same position for hours. The stranger aiding me, grips my elbow tightly, trying to help me up so I'm standing. It takes a moment, my legs trembling on the verge of collapse beneath this dreary white gown I'm draped in.

"Where am I?" I rasp, looking around the unfamiliar space.

We are in a small, concrete room, similar to whatever I just crawled out of. Large bouquets of fresh flowers are littered about, staining the air with a cloying scent.

"You're home, you're alive," the person exclaims. Why do they sound so shocked? I watch them curiously as they push open the door and look outside. "Guards, get the Queen."

Queen?

We are in some kind of courtyard, the light so blaring it's stinging at my skin, at my eyes. I want to crawl back into whatever dingy space I came from and shut out all of these people swarming up towards me.

And the colours...The trees are sagging with pink flowers, fat and blooming, giving off more overwhelming scent. My white dress drags at my feet, the hem stained with the hues of fallen flowers.

The doors to the magnificent building in front of me are thrown open, and a particularly frantic woman emerges, looking on the verge of fainting.

"Avila, my baby!" she calls out, advancing toward me.

Confused, I take a wary step back, but the man beside me holds my forearm tightly. I'm not going to fall, you strange fools.

This woman is beautiful, whoever she is. She has a slender figure, her long obsidian hair cascading down her front, seemingly unbothered by her frantic rush forward toward me. She wears a long dress, like mine, but black. The bodice is lined with lace, flattering her.

She examines the man beside me with a keen eye. "What were you doing creeping through my daughters tomb?"

I look over my shoulder. Is she talking about me?

"I was sweeping Ma'am. I heard her plea for help," the man says, holding my arm out to the woman as if I'm not capable of controlling myself.

The woman grabs me, her hands cold on my clammy skin. She tugs me right into her, the vanilla scent of her perfume making my eyes water.

"Let's get you straight to your bed," she insists, motioning to toward the house. "Call for Roel."

There are few people scattered about, looking at me with wild eyes. One or two run back inside, where the woman holding me tugs me.

This building is stunning, like nothing I've ever seen before. I'm pulled through an extravagant stained glass entrance, the natural pinks of the outside disappearing for a more pale environment inside.

"Who are you?" I question, pulling warily at the woman's grip. She's dragging me about like she knows me.

But I don't know here...

Although I suppose, I don't know anything. My mind draws blank when I think back to anything beyond the dark cave I emerged from.

She looks at me with widened eyes. "I'm your mother."

Gaping at her, I try not to answer to the panic rearing up inside me.

Mother?

How can she possibly be my mother when I've never seen her in my life. Any thought of childhood, if having any interaction with her is lost on me.

"What's going on?" Another unfamiliar voice trills, emerging from an adjoining hallway. "Avila..."

It's an older man, not much taller than me, who is awfully slender and frail in appearance. His hand carved cane knocks against the marbled floor as he approaches quickly, struggling with a lame leg.

Who is Avila? Me?

"She woke up from her tomb," the woman beside me says.

The older man looks beyond bewildered. "How is this possible?"

I would like to know that too. Did I seriously just emerge from a tomb...That was a tomb, right?

Everyone is talking about me like I've risen from the dead, so maybe I have. But that doesn't answer the question of who these people are, where I am, and why I have no memory of anything since I climbed from that...tomb.

"That doesn't matter right now. What matters is she's alive," the women snaps. I look between her and the older man, unable to decipher the relationship between the two.

They climb next to me up the stairs, which sweep around to reveal an exposed upstairs area. I clutch the glossy banister, willing more energy into my legs than what is currently being supplied to them. The woman does a good job of keeping me up, even if her hands are trembling with shock.

"Avila, do you know what's going on?" the man asks, cloudy grey eyes both curious and cautious.

I squeeze my eyes shut, moments from losing my mind. "Stop calling me that!"

Everyone goes silent, staring at me.

Breaking down into tears doesn't seem all that productive, but it's definitely tempting. I don't know who Avila is...If she's me, then I have no recollection of my life to even feel comfortable being referred to as that.

"Okay, why don't you hop in bed," Roel says calmly, eyes flaring as he looks at the woman holding me. I can feel he nod her head, before she steers me down the hallway and into another unfamiliar room.

It's obvious this is meant to be my bedroom, yet I've seen none of this before.

The colours are soft and light, with white walls and white furnishings, my bedspread a soft lavender colour. The room is peaceful, although there is no evidence anyone has ever lived in here. There are no personal belongings, and everything is so perfectly untouched.

I'm helped to the bed, which I wilfully clamber into.

"What do you remember?" the woman asks, sitting next to me in bed.

I watch warily as she adjust the covers around my waist, smoothing them down. She doesn't know what to do with me.

"Nothing," I admit, looking up at Roel, who comes to the other side of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. "I have no idea what's going on."

"What do you know?" Roel asks.

Know? I know nothing. I've only known what has occurred since I opened my eyes in that small, cramped room. It's as if I've only just come into existence.

I shake my head.

"Someone must have used magic on her," the woman gasps, gripping my hand, her knuckles as pale as her face. One particularly strong gust of wind looks as though it could blow her off her feet.

"Your name is Avila, and you are nineteen years of age. You are a Princess, in this territory, and this is your mother, Crimson. She is the Queen," Roel explains slowly, so I can absorb the information without fainting from the sheer weight of it.

My throat is dry. Princess? How can I be a Princess when I have no memories? And Crimson is a Queen? She looks like one, even carries herself like one. But how can she be my mother?

"My name is Roel And I work here, as a doctor and as a mentor. You don't need to panic, we are going to take care of you, and help you come to terms with who you are, while we figure out exactly what you remember. Is that okay?"

He speaks so calmly, so kindly, that I can't help but relax.

"We are so happy to have you home, Avila. This is truly a blessing," Crimson murmurs, clutching my hand as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

Home. What a horrifying thought.

~Avila My throat is tight as I stare down at the pictures Crimson holds in front of me. "This was you when you were only a little girl," she breathes, pointing to the centre of the photo. "You were so vivacious, so energetic. Your Kingdom became enamoured by you immediately, predicting that you would be a fair, but responsible Queen one day." The photo is of me, a young girl wearing a fluffy red dress, standing in a grand courtyard. Pink petals rain down around me. A cold feeling shudders through me at the absence of any recognition. "My Kingdom?" I whisper.

Crimson, my mother, rests her hand on my arm. "It is to be yours one day, of course." The thought is so daunting my vision becomes fuzzy for a moment. How can I rule over a Kingdom I know nothing about? "Perhaps keep the bigger information for later. We need to be gradual about introducing her to her old life," Roel says. He sits on the other side of the bed, watching on thoughtfully. I could kiss this strange old man. "Of course," Crimson says quickly, smoothing her hair back with a shaky hand before she switches to another picture. "This is you only three years ago. You adore swimming, finding refuge in our many pools almost every morning at dawn." I blink. Swimming? I vaguely remember the feeling, although it doesn't sound enticing. "Okay." Prior to bringing out the photos, I was able to look into a mirror in hopes it would help me scrape together some memories. It didn't work. I don't look how I imagined I would. My hair is stark white and long, slightly messy from being in a casket. My skin is sallow and void of healthy colour and plumpness. Frankly, I look like death. Crimson looks at me thoughtfully. "Do you have any questions?" "Do I have a brother...Or a sister?" I ask. "No, you are an only child," she exclaims with a warm smile. "Which is wonderful, of course. I always wanted a daughter to take my place." I blink, staring down at the photo of me swimming. This all feels like a nasty trick. I can't be a Princess... And what has happened to my memory? "And I was trained for this, was I?" I ask numbly. "For being Queen?" Crimson beams at me. "Absolutely." "And now I know nothing." I look up at Roel, who appears grim. "How could I be a good Queen?" I don't want to be Queen. I may not remember my own name, nor what my life is meant to amount to, but I am certain of one thing: I don't want to be Queen. "It's in your blood. All those teachings were just a formality, but you never needed them," Crimson assures me. She seems a little frantic, like the idea of me not living up to taking on this predetermined position is unfathomable. "How did I die?" I whisper. Roel and Crimson share a tense glance. So much is passed silently between them in a matter of seconds that is based on history I don't remember. Roel is probably debating whether I can handle it. "You were gravely ill. It was all very sudden," Crimson imparts tightly. "But I had such an intricate tomb..." If my death was so sudden, why did it look like everything was so well prepared for it? "The moment you were born your tomb was worked on by worldly artists," she says quickly, squeezing my sweating hand. I think of the painted walls, the painted casket. It's creepy to think about how much intention went into creating a space for death. Being a Royal is strange. "And how am I alive right now?" Crimson looks up at Roel, who hesitates before he answers. "We are not sure, exactly." "It was not dark magic, sweetheart," Crimson attempts to soothe. "This is a miracle, a gift from the Angels. Everyone knows you died before you truly lived out your potential. You're here to finish what you started, of course." I frown at the mention of dark magic. What is that supposed to mean? Sighing, I look down at the photos again as Crimson shows me another. It's me, looking vibrant, other than the sour look on my face. My dress is a beautiful emerald green, matching Crimson's. We stand in the entrance of what must be this home, clutching each other's hands as we look at two men facing us. The older man of the two wears a large crown adorned with fat jewels that are impressive, even in this photograph. The other wears a smaller, silver crown atop their deep brown, almost black hair. "What's that photo?" I ask curiously. "Oh, this is my favourite," Crimson says. "It's you at your engagement party." The world seems to shudder to a stop, my entire attention zeroing in on the photo. "I'm engaged?" I whisper. I better not be engaged to that older man... "Yes, of course." Crimson points to the younger man. "This is Vade, a Prince from Territory Five. You two were engaged the moment you were born. His father is great friends with yours." Nausea twists in my stomach. I'm engaged to a man I don't remember. I can only see part of his face in the photo, but he seems handsome. He's tall and slender, with a perfectly curved nose and refined cheekbones. " A prince....and my father, where is he?" I ask. "On business, but he is hastily returning," she says quickly. A little too quickly. I shove the thought of a potentially strained family dynamic to the side, concentrating on the earth splintering news that there is a man out there I am supposed to spend the rest of my life with. "I'm engaged," I whisper. The photos are suddenly plucked from my hand. "Maybe we should give Avila some more time to rest, your Majesty. This is a lot to take in," Roel says tightly. My head aches but my body buzzes with energy. "I don't want to be in bed anymore," I tell them. I'm not dead...anymore. "There are still a few more vitals to check before I can give you clearance." Roel backs away, his old cane shuddering slightly under his weight. I huff out a breath. Healers have been fluttering all around me since I sat in this bed. I'm tired of them pulling at my skin, poking me with various instruments. Crimson mercifully excuses herself, claiming to go chase by the head nurse. "What am I meant to do now?" I ask. "I don't know that woman, I don't know the girl in those photos. I'm lost." Roel sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Leaving it just as productive as staying here," he tells me, his voice soothing. "You're safe here, with people who you may not remember, but remember you. We are the only ones who can help you." I swallow thickly. Those photos prove they know me, that I had a life before waking in that tomb. "I'm engaged." I still can't believe it. "Vade is perhaps the kindest Prince I have ever come across. Your relationship was...interesting, but I always had a suspicion that he truly adored you," Roel tells me. I fiddle with the edge of the sheet, my head swimming. "Will he now?" "I believe so." What if he can't stand me now? What if he has moved on since I died, and now will resent me for being engaged to him? What if he is a horrible person? "I want to meet him. Who could know me better than my partner?" I say. Meeting him sounds terrifying, but it must be done eventually. "You two weren't close, however, he is on his way," Roel assures me. My heart skips a beat. "He returned back to his Territory after you passed." "How did I know you?" He doesn't seem related to me like everyone else who has been mentioned, and he definitely isn't marrying me. He smiles. "My office is full of books I collected. You spent a lot of time sneaking them from me." I massage my temples. It feels as though my brain is swelling as it tries to comprehend what I've learnt. "I have a headache," I mutter, sinking into the pillow. Roel stands. "Rest now. I will wake you when your Prince arrives." He closes the door behind him. I sit for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The Prince...my fiancé. I just hope whoever he is, he has some answers for me.

~Avila

I stare down at my hands, deep in thought.

Regardless of how long I spend scraping at the very edges of my mind, there are no memories to be found.

Pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, I let out a frustrated groan.

Who am I meant to be? What am I supposed to do now? My initial confusion has melted away into frustration, and I just want to scream.

I cast my gaze off to the window.

The moon is round and full tonight, casting an ethereal glow into the room. My eyes flutter closed, a sweet, flower-scented breeze ruffling through the curtains, blowing over my damp skin, finally cooling it.

I need to get outside. I can't be in this room a moment longer.

Snatching a sheer dressing gown off its hook, I slip it on and make my way out the door and into the corridor.

Everything about this place is vast and cold.

The ceilings are tall and sweeping, adorned with ornate fixtures and painted various shades to create intricate patterns.

My bare feet pad against the cool wooden flooring as I wander toward what I hope is the exit.

Nothing in this manor seems personable. The wallpaper is a plain shade of ivory and all the furnishings are too polished and proper to be of actual use to anyone.

My hand glides down the bannister as I descend the stairs.

"These are all understandable questions, but you must know that I don't yet have answers for them." Roel's hushed voice sounds from the corridor near the stairs.

Wrapping my gown closer around me, I sneak to the near wall, turning my head to listen in to what he is saying.

"She was dead for six months and her body is in perfect condition, no signs of decomposition." It's Crimson.

They are talking about me.

I look down at my hand, imagining my flesh rotting, peeling away to reveal stark white bone. I shake my head, expelling the intrusive thought.

"I would suggest not using words like that around her. Not right now," Roel mutters.

The wall is cold against my back as I lean closer to the archway. I'm desperately trying to fight off the itching in my nose from the flowers that seem to be spawning everywhere around me.

"It has to be magic," Crimson hisses.

She doesn't trust me. I wouldn't either, I suppose, since I don't trust her, but still...

"Look, none of us were checking her casket to see if she ever did truly begin the process," Roel say uncomfortably.

Twisting around, I carefully peek around the corner so I can see them.

Crimson's arms are wrapped around herself as she shifts from foot to foot. "What if it's not my daughter, but an imposter?"

A lump gathers in my throat.

"You know that's not the case. She has no memories, so the person she was has been erased," Roel explains. He looks bothered by her paranoia, while also attempting to comfort her.

I hope they pay him well...whatever it is he does here.

"She may not be fit to be Queen," Crimson hisses through her teeth.

"None of this can be known for certain yet, Crimson. All we can do is slowly integrate her back into her old life." Roel sounds like he is scolding her.

"What are the people going to say?"

"That cannot be known, not yet. Only a close circle should learn of this until we can make sense of it," he advises.

"So we lock her in here?"

My breath hitches, the thought of that sending a jolt of panic through me. Locked up? I can't imagine anything worse.

"No, she can leave, but only sparingly, and with a disguise," Roel amends.

Crimson shakes her head. "She won't like that."

Roel grabs her shoulders, as if to physically stop her trembling.

"You need to stop thinking of her like your daughter from six months ago. You need to think of her as your daughter who has woken up with no memory, and needs to be slowly nudged into her old life. Who she was may not be who she is now. Her entire identity has been erased."

I could kiss this old man. He knows how to say all the right things.

"I can't imagine what her father will think of this," Crimson worries.

"You know he will be perfectly accepting," Roel assures her gently.

"I have a bad feeling, Roel. I can't shake it." Crimson rubs her own arms, clearly familiar with having to console herself.

What if Crimson decides I'm something I'm not, and throws me out of this place. I'll have nothing, nobody...I don't know how to care for myself in this world, because I don't even know the world I'm in.

As terrified as I am about being thrown out, I'm equally terrified of being locked in.

"These feelings of doubt are natural. You accepted your daughter was gone and now she has returned. It is an adjustment," Roel soothes.

Crimson nods, biting on one of her nails anxiously. "I suppose."

"Get some sleep. Vade arrived about an hour ago, so he will be ready to see Avila in the morning." He gestures toward the stairs. I quickly pull back.

I need to get out of here.

With steps as light as possible, I pad around the other side of the staircase, winding through the corridor until I reach the large glass doors I came through when I first woke up.

The night air settles my nerves as I step out. I keep my eyes averted from the intricately decorated tomb erected just for me, right near the house like Crimson couldn't bear to part with my dead body.

It would be sweet, if it weren't so creepy.

I creep through the trees, my bare feet staining pink from the rotting flowers that are littered everywhere. I escape the smell only by passing through a set of neatly trimmed hedges that act as a perimeter to a pretty rose garden.

Dirt turns to gravel as I grimace, the rocks biting into my feet. Still, I persist, wanting to put some distance between myself and the house for a moment.

In the centre of the gardens I find a polished wood bench. I sit down on it, examining the engraved plate nailed it.

To my beloved Crimson - William

I swallow thickly. William must be my father's name. I wonder where this mysterious man is. It's strange that my soon to be betrothed arrived sooner than he did.

I settle against the wood, drawing in a deep breath. This vacant chasm that's torn through my chest, my stomach and my mind is draining my energy.

Just one memory...just one to know I really did exist before this would relieve some of my fear.

Something stirs in the shadows just above where my gaze has been focused on the gravel in front of me. Looking up, I look out through the thorny bushes, squinting.

Sure enough, a figure slips from view, backing away into the darkness.

"Ah...is someone there?" I ask uneasily, my voice cutting through the night.

No one answers me.

Slowly, I stand, taking a few cautious steps toward where the figure vanished behind the hedge. The sound of footsteps retreating on stones rings out distantly, so I start off toward it, dodging the bushes.

"Hey! I can see you," I call out. The figure has emerged from behind the hedges, heading off toward the edge of the estate.

Can they not hear me or something? I would assume they were a staff member, maybe a gardener, if they didn't have a hood over their head and looked like they didn't want to be seen.

"Where are you going!" I yell out.

He doesn't stop, emerging from the garden, heading out across the lawn. He isn't running, but he's walking fast enough that I have to speed up in hopes of catching up to him.

The moment my feet touch the grass, I start running. He's close to disappearing down the hill, I just need to reach for him...

Suddenly my foot sinks into a small hole in the ground causing my ankle to buckle. I pitch forward, landing flat on my stomach.

I groan, first registering the dew sinking into my clothing, and then the pain blowing over my left cheek.

Tugging myself up, I rest on my knees, breathing in deeply. The figure has vanished into the night, likely down the hill and past the fence by now.

"Avila..."

Frowning, I look over my shoulder, seeing someone approaching me. They look stricken, eyes wide as they sweep over me.

"Get away from me," I yelp, scrambling up to my feet. I have no idea who this is.

He hesitates, remaining a few steps away from me. I don't like that he's staring at me like this. His eyes are silvery under the gleam of the moonlight, his hair a dark brown, almost black. I don't care if he's handsome, he's scared me.

"Hey, it's me, Vade," he soothes, taking a cautious step at me.

I let out a long breath. Oh.

Through my haze of panic, it dawns on me that I do remember him from that photo. He looks different, though. His face hasn't changed, but he somehow seems taller than I would have thought, with muscles more filled out than in the photo.

"Oh. Okay." I wipe my hand over my forehead, wincing when it comes back covered in dirt. I took a nasty fall.

He looks over my shoulder. "What were you running from?"

I follow his stare over the dip in the hill. I'm not sure what possessed me to chase after a complete stranger and then get scared when one appeared behind me in the dark. I just felt deep within me that I needed to see who it was that was watching me...

"I was chasing something. Someone," I tell him, clearing my throat uncomfortably.

The initial shock has melted from his face, and now, his jaw is tightening, his eyes darkening.

"Don't go out this far at night. It's how you slip and fall." His gaze shifts down to my knees. Sure enough, they are covered in dirt, and a thin trickle of blood falls down from a small graze.

"I'm fine," I grit out.

"There are dangerous things out here," he warns. "You of all people should know that."