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DIVINE RETRIBUTION

Jeremiad- a long mournful complaint, a list of woes

Love; a deep feeling for affection for a person or thing. It is said that everyone experiences it in their life. After all everyone loves at least one thing. I despise how love is portrayed as pure and innocent. They’re wrong, love is the monster that creeps at night. It is the overpowering need to consume something, for it suffocates a person. Love is a beast, ready to devour anyone who crosses its path. Just like a siren. It's not warm rather it's a scorching pit of passion that overwhelms a person.

Pink carnations and purple hyacinths adorned the lonely gold coffin. Gold which never betrayed. Gold which was pure. Gold which would never leave her alone when everyone else did

In her death, she lies surrounded by the purest of gold. Her dress softer than anything she had ever worn while she was alive, laden with jewels from far away lands. She lay surrounded by asters and poppies, at the right places to provide satisfactory visuals, it didn’t look like a coffin of someone accused of treason. A young maiden who was in the spring of her youth, beauty unparred with that of anyone across the kingdome.

Her jewel blue eyes which once were full of life stay closed now, never to see the light again. Never would she smile again nor would anyone get to receive her unconditional love. For when she loved she loved with a passion which could make the heaven cry out in despair. As when Obelias loved, they loved with a passion unrivaled for. Her name meant ‘eternal life’ but she never got to live. Eternal sleep. Each day she was suffocated by her fathers hatred and neglect for her. No she never got to breathe the sweet scent of life

The only princess of the kingdom would sleep forever never to open her eyes again.

Athanasis de Alger Obelia lies in her coffin forever at rest surrounded with flowers of regret. The only indicator of her death were the purple bruises on her neck shaped like a hand. More specifically her father’s hand. And the gaping hole in her chest with her insides shriveled out and her heart nowhere to be found. In her last moments, she wasn’t afraid of death, accepting it happily. Like it was the last drop of water for a parched man. Death was kind to her, he took her painfully yet her released her from her suffering.

Pity, they thought that it was all over now that the witch is dead. Little did they know that the clock would reverse again someday. She would burn in this hellfire life again and again. Till she broke free .

THUD

Soft footsteps, hesitant about approaching her

A man with clothes stained with blood stood in front of her and pressed his bloodied hands to her coffin pane. ‘She looked beautiful even in death’ he mused.

For we only miss the sun when it starts to snow and his life would eternally be filled with winter now.

The coppery stench of blood filled the entire room.

‘She would’ve frowned at the smell’ after all she despised the smell of blood.

He remembers how in her last moments she didn’t beg him. Perhaps she also hated him in the end. He recalls her bloodied tears when she saw Lillian York’s bloodied head. The look of desperation in her eyes

How sh-

No he can't remember that. That day would often play itself in his dreams. He didn’t want to remember how he burned her with his cruelty. How he killed the only person would ever love him truly, purely.

Monster is what they called him when they thought he wasn’t listening.

Monster is what his bastard brother and father had called him when he killed both of them. He remembered how he drove his sword through their hearts.

He wondered if this was what this child thought as he killed her mercilessly. Drove his mana into her fragile body and pulled out her heart as he suffocated her.

Her body was kept on the central square for weeks. While people came and spat on her, gouged her eyes out and tore her hair. After all the sorceress was dead, now their princess Jeanette could be safe. Now everyone could be happy after all she was nothing but a harbinger of doom.

He remembered all of it. The way she would greet him every morning and always tried to impress him.

He recalled how he forbade her from calling him father, only to let Jeanette do as she wished.

Even as a young child she called him his full him and title.

He knew she was being bullied by the maids in the Ruby Palace.

He knew that she bled as she was tripped and how she would go hungry for days. Her eyes so cold and dull, so lifeless just like his own were in his childhood. Yet those cold eyes would soften as they fell on Lillian York and him. He was her father after all and yet he had forsaken her, let her burn under his cruelty and took away her chance at happiness.

“Daddy”

As Claude looked up, he saw his daughter again. Usually she appeared in his dreams haunting him about her death. Not for the first time he wondered how different everything would be if he was there for her. Would he have treasured her like he treasured Jeanette? He could’ve been there for her first steps and would have listened to her first words. On her debutante she would’ve been the most beautiful girl there and he knew that Diana would’ve been proud of him. He would’ve glared as suitors tried to take her away from him and how proud he would’ve been when she’d inherit the crown and become the empress.

He would’ve instilled the confidence of a princess into her. He remembered how capable she was regarding political matters, how hard she tried to please him. TO MAKE HIM, A BASTARD, PROUD.

“Give her back”

“I command you to give her back Hades”

“You took her mother from me, how DARE you take her away?!”

“Please please just give her back”

Claude fell to his knees while screaming profanities at Hades. He lost, he had lost everything. Not for the first time the Emperor grieved his dead daughter and the place shook from his screams of pain.

Felix Roban gently closed the doors. He remembered the soft spoken princess and how broken she was of Claude’s love. He remembered Diana of Siddonna and how happy Claude was with her. Finally he remembered how her death had broken his bosom brother and how he despised their product of love. Most of all he hated himself for not doing anything as the Emperor killed his daughter.

Not for the first time, Felix felt regret. Regret stronger than anything he had ever felt. He remembered holding the corpse of the only woman he ever loved. He was a monster. A monster who condemned the woman he loved and killed her because of his bosom brother’s orders.

They had hated the princess for being born.

Yet they loved Jeanette

For after all she was the ‘Lovely Princess’

Oh what a tragic tale indeed it was

If only time could reverse itself, they’d never make the same mistake again

The fates laughed in the background as for the umpteenth time they heard the people of Obelia pray for the clock to reverse. Little did they know that it was their own hell loop. No matter which life it was, they would always be cursed.

Cursed by Adrestia herself.

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Hey! It's something I wrote myself and really wanted to share with everyone:))

Please

Don't plagarize it

It took me hours to write this

You can read it on wattpad as well!

https://my.w.tt/3hP3QaMjPcb