Chapter Text
The ‘Princess of thorns’ they usually call her, among other names, cursed child, witch. Some said born with the gift, others the curse. The promise of a witch had been sacred for a long time. Ages before her birth, but unfortunately it comes with a high price. Her innocent mother suffered the consequences. Her dying mother weakly lifted her head to look at her, for the first and last time, a stormy night. The Queen closed her eyes, content, exhaled her last breath as the baby girl let out her first cries. Her wailing resonating through the empty halls. Born with unnatural powers, a girl with soft silver white hair, big stunning violet eyes, shinning like jewels, pale skin almost transparent and a gentle heart. Growing fast, possessing incomparable beauty, showing surprising powers that needed to be groomed with care. The people of her land utterly devastated by the loss of their last Queen. Fearing the cause. Her. Afraid of the uncertainty, no sovereign, the birth of a cursed child, with tremendous powers. A witch. Her people talked. She must be hidden from the other Kingdoms, the rest of the world they decided. Forced into isolation. She spent her days secluded, in her own castle, learning everything she could about plants, and the arts of magic, devouring every book she gets her hands on. Accompanied by the animals, they do not fear her powers. And the exception of a few servants and her guardian.
She’s the sole and last daughter of Azarath. Her nation was relatively small and poor compared to others. Nothing like Nanda Parbat which was vast, rich and extensive. Now she would be traded away to secure her territory. At the age of 16 years old, John Constantine declares she’s to be married to Wallace West, nephew of the King of a Kingdom not too far from her own. The King Bartholomew had no children, so he declared Wallace his heir. Her guardian assured her, the young man was a brave and powerful warrior. He was capable of protecting her, and her powers would remain a secret to the rest of the world. He’d guard her as his queen. Constantine gave her his word.
But will he love me? A silent question her heart whispered, full of thirst for deep affection. Unlikely. Her mind answered.
Constantine meant well, she knew it. It was such a sweet and empty promise. A bittersweet kiss of destiny. She smiled faintly and thanked her guardian for staying by her side all those years. She tried to find comfort in the idea of freedom.
~~~
“You asked for me, Grandfather?” The prince asked firmly with his deep voice as he entered the throne room. He was wearing his gold and green armor, the colors of the house of Al Ghul. He looked up at the king whose wild eyes seemed to scatter, looking for something in every corner of the grand room.
Ra’s Al Ghul scorned down at his grandson and spoke heartlessly, his expression showing disdain. “I did. Your safeguards should have informed you the banquet and tournament will be held in a month.”
The prince clenched his fists in frustration and annoyance. He did not wish for this. However, fighting his grandfather on this would lead to punishment. He subdued his discontent, wearing a neutral mask. “Very well.”
Ra’s eyed his grandson suspiciously, he wasn’t showing resistance anymore. “Heed my warning boy, you will choose a suitable bride by the end of this tournaments or I’ll do it myself. If you weren’t my only heir, I’d remove you from succession.” The prince narrowed his eyes, getting the message.
He inclined his head, showing respect to his grandfather and king. “I understand.” He wondered what his ancestors would think of the cruel monster ruling the empire they had build, the whole Nanda Parbat nation called King. There wouldn’t be need to take such drastic measures, he’d find a bride at the banquet and then he’d remove his grandfather as king. It was the only hope to save his people. Avoid the war his grandfather had planned.
“Do what is expected and do not bring shame upon the Al Ghul name, boy or I’ll have you killed.” His grandfather threatened anger reflected in his eyes. “GET OUT OF MY SIGHT NOW.” The king barked.
Damian Al Ghul bowed, not saying a single word,striding from the room, before his grandfather came up with new ways to torture him. His safeguard and spy master following, falling behind him like a shadow. Richard.
To the rest of the kingdom this tournament was the king’s way of boasting the wealth of their house, choosing a bride for the dutiful prince. To Damian and his loyal followers it was the first step in becoming the new monarch the land urgently needed, establishing his line.
A wife was all he required. Love wasn’t necessary.
~~~
Nanda Parbat was far from what she imagined it would be, larger, deep in the mountains, there were some charred ruins of epic proportions, each of its five main towers reaching into the sky. It possessed an ancient beauty. The castle was alive with activity, servants rushing past with bolts of cloth and platters of different kind of foods. Shadows as they called their assassins, sprinting back and forth with curved pieces of steel in their grip, royalty from other nations, high lords and ladies strolling the grounds, admiring the wondrous city carved into sandstone.
There she had met her betrothed, Wallace West from The Westlands. He was everything she had heard about him, rumors from commoners. Wallace was muscular and strong, with reddish locks and sparkling green eyes, he moved with the confidence of a man who knew he was the best sword in the capital, smiled at her as if he expected her to be impressed by it. Other ladies would describe him as charismatic and charming. Not her though.
Rhachel did not feel her heart hammer in her chest when she was in her future husband’s presence. She did not feel her palms sweat or heat rise to her rosy cheeks. She did not feel a ball of nerves ladies speak about, or desire and want pool in her stomach. She did not want to launch herself in his strong arms and stay there. She did not wish to engage in a conversation with him that lasted more than five minutes.
In her mind she’d gladly marry a commoner if she was in love with him. No seconds thoughts. If it meant it was her choice. Unfortunately, her duty consisted of being the wife of a prince. A queen to give him one or two heirs. That was her role to play from the moment she was born or so she had been told. She longed for freedom. Would she ever belong to herself? The wildness of her soul suffocated by the chains of her obligations screamed for release.
“You’ve been neglecting your soon to be husband.” Her guardian chastised her. “This alliance with Westlands is very important. A matter of survival.” Constantine hissed before he lowered his voice to a whisper. She felt like a mare sold to the highest bidder. She reminder herself she was doing it for her nation.
“I understand you wished for love. But it’s your duty. Azarath needs it. You may grow to like him.” John spoke directly, looking her straight in the eye. He rested a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. A gesture intended to give her hope. But I won’t, she gulped down those words that wanted to come out. She knows. Whatever he was willing to provide, he could give to her. It wouldn’t quench her heart and spirit.
With her fists clenched tightly, her blood boiling in her veins so hot it burned, a knot started to form in her throat, yet she refused to let a single teardrop leave her eyes. She was the last daughter of Azarath. She felt both anger and sadness started building up in her chest. She held her tongue. She couldn’t lose control here.
“So I have the rest of eternity to speak with him.” She says bitterly, over the muttering of the other visitors.
Rhachel saw members of the safeguard walking nearby, a man richly decorated in black and green standing in front of them, guards shadowing him, a massive sword to match his height on his hip. Midnight dark hair, olive skin and emerald eyes instantly caught her attention.
“Who is that?” Rhachel asked, fire and curiosity sparking in her eyes, pointing to the man.
Constantine snickered, pushing her hand down discreetly. “That, dearest Rae is Prince Damian Al Ghul.” Giving her a reproachful glance.
It was her first time seeing the Prince, if only she could get closer for a better look but a crowd of astonished nobles had gathered around, making it almost impossible. “I heard this tournament was a ploy for The Prince to find a bride.” She said quietly, eyes still fixed on Prince Damian, who was kissing the hand of a noble she recognized, Donna, the Amazonian princess. The epitome of a lady. She focused on the Al Ghul heir again.
She had only heard good things of the Crown Prince, Prince Damian was said to be everything the folk stories described: tall, imposing, brave and mysterious. A true maiden’s dream. He was said to be well read, chivalrous, a great swordsman, never lost a single match, loved by the commoners and nobles equally.
Her governess had taught her about all the noble families, the most important kingdoms, the lineages, everything she required to know. She read about the Al Ghul, they were said to have cursed assassins blood in their veins, with a large army of cold-blooded Assassins, called Shadows.
The moment she laid her amethyst eyes on Prince Damian, she found him too beautiful. Rhachel could not imagine cursed blood or shadows being associated with him. She felt a strong and magnetic pull towards him. Questions running through her mind, if the rumors were true, if he was everything he appeared to be. Who was the real Damian Al Ghul? She shook her head, repelling those impermissible thoughts invading her. “I need some fresh air.” She let know to Constantine before leaving the palace.
~~~
The night was completely clear. The light of the moon gushed down onto Nanda Parbat and illuminated everything in such a romantic way Rhachel could not help but give a little sigh. It was so different from Azarath. Things looked entirely different in moonlight. She felt like a breath of fresh air had been blown across her caged soul. She wore her feelings upon her shoulders, carrying the weight of her duties and past. For a moment she wanted nothing but forget all about it.
Once out of the castle, she headed toward the royal stables. She looked around until she found her horse and smiled instantly. “I’m sure the stableboy will have a nice apple for you, Melchior.” she said, patting her horse’s neck and looking into his big dark red eyes. Melchior has been a gift from John after her twelfth name day. He had become her constant companion. “Maybe I can convince him to give you two apples. What do you say, my friend?” The white stallion nuzzled at her neck. “I see you’ve missed me. Two it is.”
One of the stable boys had mentioned her that buried deep in the trees there was a stream and that the banks were soft and clear enough for a horse to get up to full pace uninterrupted. Perhaps she could explore the unknown territory with Melchior tomorrow. “What do you say, want to go ride tomorrow?” Melchior exhales a deep fluttering breath through his nostrils. “I’ll make sure they give you enough apples.” Rachel promises, encouraging him. The horse seemed to sense her mood lifting and snorted in anticipation. She loved the white stallion, riding him. It gave her a sense of freedom. He’s the only one who understands she told herself.
She was running her fingers through Melchior’s hair when she hears the horse next to her own, nickering to her, as if it were calling her, seeking her attention. She looked at him, studying the beautiful creature. It was an elegant black stallion, huge, an Arabian purebred, dark as night with shinning amber eyes. Magnificent. “Hello, maybe you want some apples, too?” Rhachel smiled warmly at him. She reached out to touch him, slowly, carefully, showing him she meant no harm. The dark stallion lowers his head, allowing her to touch him. She rubbed his long neck gently. He seemed to be enjoying it. “What is your name?” She asked the horse as it were to answer her.
“I must admit I’m impressed. Goliath does not allow strangers to touch him. I’d even dare say he’s taken a liking to you.” A deep voice announced from behind her. Startling her, promptly the princess whirled around to see Damian Al Ghul standing there in all his finery, watching her with an amused expression as she petted the horse and talked to it.