#wolfyarty

Whelp that’s not too bad now, is it.

I’m funny.

[Italian] [AO3]

The Queen looked around, haughty. The world belonged to her, owed her, as she was the sovereign of it all. Nothing eluded her sight, for everywhere were her eyes. Nothing eluded her hearing, fot everywhere were her ears. There was no escape to her control, it was known in all of her reign.

But the Queen, in her throneroom, was secluded in her own impenetrable frost, covered by a veil of sadness, locked up in a prison of hate.

«Knight.» She called, and her personal guard stepped in the room with a bow.

«Your Majesty called?» The sovereign lifted her glance to find her Knight's, the only one capable of holding it.

The Queen observed the person in front of her, the face crossed by one only, pale scar on the cheek that yet didn't ruin the beautiful figure with light skin and crystal eyes, framed by blonde locks. That face, so different from hers, fascinated the Queen, eyes brown and deep, olive skin, black hair.

Rising from her throne, the Queen approached the Knight, who remained impassive and looked at her while she advanced, her regal poise stealing their breath.

«I thought you'd prefer my name by now.» Said the woman, taking the Kinght's chin between elegant fingers.

«My Regina, some habits are hard to break.» The Knight smiled lightly, barely approaching that face that was oh so fascinating.

Those stolen moments with her Knight, unknown by the King, were the only happines left in Regina's empty and painful life, and the Knight knew and tried to make them worth of the mistress.

«Wrong, Knight...» A light chuckle.

«My Regina, I beg of you...» As much as the Knight loved that title when uttered by her Queen, she loved even more when those red lips whispered her name; it made her heart beat anew.

The sovereign neared her lips, bent in a light smile.

«Emma, my Knight.» She said softly.

Whatcha lookin’ at?

I can’t stand you. I never could. Ever since the first time I saw you, I knew I would’ve wanted you dead. Then why, oh, why can I feel my stone heart thump in my chest when you look at me with the smugness of someone who doesn’t know better? What is that lust that makes my cold skin shiver and heat up?

I see you. I see you running, you never stop, you never catch your breath. You just run. Can’t you see how different you and I are? Your blood is as hot as mine is cold, your heart as fast as mine is slow, your soul as sweet as mine is sour. You chase time, borrow time, fear time. I bask in it, evening my breath and waiting for the perfect moment to take my shot. I don’t fear time: I own it.

You are Noise, I am Silence.

You are a busy day, I am a still night.

You are a butterfly, I am a spider.

And yet, you look at me with hopeful eyes and I find myself captivated by their shimmer. You smile and laugh and chatter and somehow those annoying little squeaks of yours sound like a melody I never thought I could enjoy.

And yet, when my lips clash against yours with a passion I never thought I could feel, my skin burns almost like yours and I feel alive. But I was never supposed to feel. Feeling burns, feeling hurts, every aching heartbeat is like a hammer against my chest.

Why can’t I stop hating and wanting you, then? Why do I wish to hear you scream in pain and pleasure at the same time?

I can’t stand you. I never could.

An annoyance.