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- NO.200+SOUTIEN
COMPLETED. (WARNING: R18 on chapter 200+ onwards. This is a SLOW BURN ROMANCE. Read at your own risk.) ** On a secluded mountain situated upon a kingdom known as Feuersturm, resides a seemingly trifling cabin with an unlikely duo as its inhabitant—a witch, and her apprentice who presumably comes from a clan sought after by slave traders. Faustina is a sixteen-year-old girl who fled the slave market with the help of a sickly witch named Eula, who later on trained her as an apprentice for the span of seven years. Plagued with a mysterious disease for several years, Eula died despite the efforts Faustina had exerted to cure her; in her last breath, she left an odd request behind. "Sustain the king's life. This is your duty. Do not adhere to the prophecy." To which the odd plea shadowed a bizarre series of events, a consequential sentence; similar to that of a premonition. The same night the phrase was muttered, the chain of events followed: A warlock's intrusion to their home, with a peculiar yearning to resurrect Eula from the dead... and the king himself, asking for Faustina’s aid.
Sapphire skies waited for the dusk like colors saturating and mixing, akin to a canvas getting painted. The turquoise-colored ocean beamed and splashed empty waves echoing in the tranquil breeze along with ghastly winds and pocket-mist surrounding the afternoon dusk.
It took a second for Faustina to return to her conscious. The smell of herbs and medicine lingering her nose as usual was no longer there. She wondered why her bed, made with straws, was so soft.
She heard the splash of cold seawater into the rocks upon the shore. And then her eyes fluttered open, eyeing the spectacle. A large Victorian window hung like a portrait in the arctic white wall, as gigantic ceilings of luxurious gold glistened across the whole room. The bed she was in was massive, with feathery comfort of white sheets and the faint smell of lavender.
If she's not mistaken, she is in a place where she never dreamed to be.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴.
Faustina searched for her duffel, perhaps to drink an anti-hypnotic medicine her late master created. Maybe all that mayhem she caused last night was a dream, maybe this was not real, MAYBE she's just hallucinating.
"Leaving so soon?"
Faustina sat still and turned to her side slowly.
A topless, handsome man with a platinum blond hair flashed a smile, kindred to the sunset; warm and mellow. Their gaze locked and then at that moment she realized he was lying next to her, like a beautiful sculpture made by a skilled artisan. His chiseled body glistened from the sun's rays coming from the window. His eyes were an unusual pair of gold and blue, the color of the sea and the comforting sun.
"K-king Alexander!" Faustina bowed immediately, knowing who the man was. And then that was also the time she realized she was naked in the King's chambers. She covered her body immediately, wrapping a blanket around her as she bowed once more.
"Raise your head, my doctor," He said, chuckling softly. "You need not bow yourself before me. You are a savior of the king, the savior of the nation."
"Yes." Faustina says, even if she did not agree with such heavy statements.
Right now there are just too many things going to her mind. She faked a smile, trying to mask her frustration. Waking up next to him made her even question her decisions that led to complicated circumstances. The reasons behind the events that kept on appearing; things that were all befallen and connected to her.
Faustina's magic, her own identity—who she really is. What did her master conceal for years? She still wondered if she did the right thing that night—a pact which will be in her bearing for her whole life.
Her hazy memories and her bemusement were slowly fading away as flashbacks of her master's death flooded her entire system. She wanted to scream in frustration, but unable to do so. She promised herself to be strong - especially in front of the king.
She stared at Alexander's golden eye, and then to the mirror at the front of the mattress. She stared at herself. Their eyes matched peculiarly; a proof of the completion of the ritual.
The contract has been made.
The contract to sustain the king's life.
