Catina never had a reason to hate her strange appearance. Her golden hair and deep brown eyes- eyes that could be mistaken for red- had never caused her any misfortune. Until one night, the great conqueror arrived- a man who wanted the world for him...
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The Elephant King and I stand at the top of the wall, looking out in the vast horizon.
"Somewhere," the King points into the distance, "somewhere in that direction is the great leader. That man who claims I am the bringer of your death."
The air is dry. The wind does not do much to cool the body. We both stand side by side and I cannot help but think what a strange pair we are.
"I have a warrior."
He turns to look at me.
"His name is Khalid. He came with me. I need him back."
"And what will you give me?"
I meet the male's gaze. His eyes shine with amusement- with a curiosity I have created of what my next actions will be.
"I have given you more than what many other males have received."
"But not enough," he steps closer, the space disappearing between us. "I want more. I cannot understand this man they call the great leader. I can't understand how he could do it..."
His eyes flicker down, before crawling up and up, landing on my features- my image that had cast me onto a pedestal.
"He really must be as heartless as they say."
"He is not blinded like how you are."
The King arches an eyebrow. I still feel unnerved with the amount of skin that is shown. With how features are formed and faces made. How each place on the body demonstrates and communicates its own message.
"Are you defending him?"
I remain silent. I can't express into words the hate I feel for him. I can't find something big enough to describe the betrayal, loss, and...shattered ruin that consumed my soul. I've always had nightmares. I've always had images come to haunt me.
But now, the cruelest twist of fate- I had a face to place in my dreams. I had consuming dark eyes and brown hair that reminded me of home. A home he had taken me away from. I had the knowledge now of what his lips felt like. Of how his face could shift and change and how in my final hours, he had brought himself down to show me that he was mortal. A man. Not a conqueror who would ravage the world - but someone full of regret and sorrow at the path they had chosen to take - and the sacrifices they had decided to make.
"How did it start, Mikabellum?"
He leans against the edge, looking down at the drop before us.
"How did what start?"
He doesn't look amused at my fake ignorance.
"How did he find you. Take you? Where did he take you from?"
I don't want to tell him. Telling him would shatter the image I had created and believed in my head- and those thoughts and beliefs were the only thing holding me together. Little girls did not survive in this world- not with these men. They did not hold power. They did not command attention.
