Bite-Sized Kink
Upon request, I am opening a one-word prompt post for all you devious anons. (Although note that, despite the 'kink' in the thread title, it need not be a steamy fill).
So. Post a one-word prompt, and anons may reply with a sentence, a drabble, or even something longer should inspiration strike.
I suggest that we do it as follows:
Since not every ( Read more... )
So. Post a one-word prompt, and anons may reply with a sentence, a drabble, or even something longer should inspiration strike.
I suggest that we do it as follows:
Since not every ( Read more... )
---
Cornelia dreams in bright colors and pastels, splattered across the sky and land. A wide sky drips into white clouds as the wind whistles through vibrant trees. From the soft earth, buildings slip into existence, white walled canvases that melt into the sky. From the ground around her, flowers burst from the ground, settling in vibrant fireworks of color.
She laughs at herself, because what kind of dream is this to have? Cornelia is not someone who belongs in this land, this fairytale dream of a princess. Because princess though she may be, she is commander, first.
At the thought, the dream ripples, and she blinks into a castle corridor, rough stone and dark, dripping putrid water. When she moves her hand to her waist, she feels the comforting weight of a blade.
This is her domain. This is the dream she should be having.
"Cornelia?"
Cornelia turns- and thereisEuphie, her mind screams. Here is her baby sister, dressed in the white and pink lace she loves so much. Here is Euphemia, the princess who belongs in that bright land, the fairytale girl who is destined to have happy endings.
The princess that should have had a happy ending.
"It is you!" Euphie says, moving forward. As she does so, Cornelia hears an awkward screech, like something sliding on the floor.
"Euphie," she breathes, raising a hand to touch the other girl's face.
"Sister," Euphemia says. "I need your help."
And this, this is something that Cornelia has heard before. Her chest shudders, because the next thing she will say is-- "What is it, Euphie?" The words tear out of her throat, wet and bloody.
"I want to take Clovis's position at Area 11. Will you help me convince father?" Euphemia's voice is soft, secretive. "Please?"
Cornelia bites her lip. No, her mind screams, nonono. If Euphie goes, then this will end. This has already ended.
"Okay," Cornelia says, because that is how this script goes.
"Thank you so much, Cornelia!" Euphemia says, throwing her arms around Cornelia's neck. As she does so, Cornelia notices what the sound was.
Chains. There are chains around Euphie's ankles, metallic and sharp.
And Cornelia knows what to do. This is her dream, not reality. This is her dream, where she is the ruler of the world and she can do what she likes, reality be damned. She takes Euphemia's hand, smiling, and brings her to the castle dungeon that she knows will be at the end of this hall. Euphemia chatters about her plans, about what hopes she has, and Cornelia knows all of this. She has heard Euphemia say it before, has replayed it a thousand times.
She has recreated this conversation so many times. She knows what happens next, in reality.
In her dream, she brings Euphie to that dungeon, and chains her to the ground. She ignores her sister's screams for help as she shuts the dungeon door and stalks down the corridor.
It is her dream. She is the ruler here. She will destroy everything, everything that can hurt Euphie here, and then she will let Euphie go. She suffocates around the laugh that is threatening to escape her throat.
Every fairytale princess needs a villain, after all; and Cornelia has never minded playing that role.
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