Distorted Fates

by R. L. Weeks

  DISTORTED FATES

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2019 by Enchanted Anthologies

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, nor translated into a machine language, without the written permission of the publisher.

  Condition of sale

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property.

  Typesetting by Dark Wish Designs

  Cover design by Dark Wish Designs

  Publisher’s Note

  Thank you for purchasing your copy of Distorted Fates. This Anthology is limited edition and will only remain up for three months from April 4th, 2019.

  All profits from this anthology will go to the Make a Wish Foundation.

  The Make-A-Wish Foundation is a non-profit organization founded in the United States that arranges experiences described as "wishes" to children diagnosed with critical illnesses.

  If you enjoy these stories, we ask that you leave a review. Your review helps other readers decide whether or not they want to purchase this book.

  Stories in this Anthology by order:

  Becoming His Beauty by R. L. Weeks

  A retelling of Beauty and the Beast

  Malia’s Curse by Amy Cecil

  A retelling of Sleeping Beauty

  Beneath the Crimson Cloak by Jill Ramsower

  A retelling of Little Red Riding Hood

  A Diamond in the Rough by William Joseph

  A retelling of Aladdin

  Snow White and the Seven Cyborgs

  A retelling of Snow White

  Return to Innocence by LJC Fynn

  A retelling of Peter Pan

  The Price of Villainy by Yolanda Allard

  A retelling of Robin Hood

  Crystal Fever by Dana Fraedrich

  A retelling of Snow Queen

  The Feral Ones by Krystle Able

  A retelling of Hansel and Gretel

  Natural Enemy by Lorah Jaiyn

  A retelling of The Little Mermaid

  The Mane Heiress by Hope Sherill

  A retelling of Rapunzel

  Becoming His Beauty

  By R. L. Weeks

  Chapter One

  Four months earlier

  The man in my dreams was back again, and this time he had no mercy. Something had upset him, and as always, he was here to take it out on me.

  His mouth was twisted with rage, his gaze wild with fury. He wanted me dead. I could feel it with every lash from the whip. He hated me, but I never knew why.

  I fell to the cold, stone floor and cried out as he whipped my back over and over again. I wanted to ask him why he hated me so much; what darkness was he plagued by that he had to inflict so much suffering, but the only thing that left my lips was drops of blood that curdled in the ash below. Ash that had swept into the room from the furnaces where the king burned anyone who disobeyed him.

  When he finished torturing me, he cut through my skin like fabric with a carving knife – “Not so beautiful now.” He spat. The scar would remain like the others. My face was covered with them.

  He dropped the whip and straightened his crown. “I wish you were awake.” He growled. His hair was slicked back, and his eyes were the same color as the dark-green snakes he kept as pets. He left the room, and I reached around for anything to grip onto. The pain was too much, and I was finding it hard to breathe.

  I managed to lift my head up enough to see out of the top right corner of the small window. Outside, the snow was falling thick and fast. Why did it feel like I had never seen the sun?

  I whimpered as I curled up into a ball. I needed it to end. I wanted to wake up. I needed to wake up.

  It was as if a bucket of water had been thrown on my face. I was pulled out of the dream with startling pain. I shot upright in my bed and looked around me, wild-eyed.

  I was finally awake from yet another nightmare. One that I had kept having since I was a little girl. All of them took place in the same room. In all of them, I was being tortured by the same man – a king. His crown was white and silver and looked as if winter had crafted it herself from icicles and frost. His skin was paler than the blanket of snow that covered the kingdom. It was never sunny there. It was the place where hope went to die.

  Even though I was awake, I could still feel pangs of pains from where he had whipped me, but as with all my nights, the pain faded quickly.

  “Isabella.” My dad popped his head around the doorframe, making me jump.

  “Can you not knock?” I snapped at him but quickly apologized. “Sorry.”

  He looked tired like always. He was standing close to me, yet I felt as if his mind was far, far away. “Get up. You’re meeting the duke today.”

  I sighed. I swear his only motive in life was to marry me off. Being the only daughter meant the responsibility fell on me. I need to find an appropriate marriage that would create alliances between my family and other powerful families. It was all a ridiculous back and forth of power that I never really understood.

  “I’ll go this evening. I have plans today.” I said in defiance.

  He shook his head and left the room, which only meant one thing. He was going to find my mother to persuade her to ‘talk some sense into me.’

  Before either of them could come back and persuade me into going right now, I got out of bed. I wanted to enjoy my last moments of freedom before I was forced into a dull marriage and made to make small talk with all the other bored, righteous wives of the upper court.

  I pulled on my hiking boots, sweater, black pants, and pulled my dark curls into a ponytail. I hurried to the sink, splashed some water in my face, and brushed my teeth.

  In the bedroom, I looked over the books on my bookshelf grabbed my favorite one. The spine was creased and faded from the years. The wear and tear were signs that it was loved.

  It was called The Tale of the Three Princes. In the story, there were three handsome princes with powers that matched the king and queen.

  The eldest prince was sadistic. He had the power to insert dreams into the minds of others. He could make them see, feel, and smell anything he wanted.

  The second prince was deadly. Any man or woman would die on his touch. He was a lonely man, but in his loneliness, he found clarity. He was the cleverest of the three and always saw the bigger picture before either of them did.

  The youngest prince had a power opposite to his older brother. He was a necromancer with the power to bring back the dead. He was kind to the less fortunate, but dismissive to the ugly. He surrounded himself with beautiful things and people.

  I opened the page and read the first two lines. At that point, I knew the words by heart.

  Blood seeped through the petals and landed on the youngest prince’s lap. He caressed his fingers around the thorns and stem and transferred his powers into the rose.

  He hid his powers from the eldest brother, Alexandre, for when he would become king, he would try to take them from him.

  I closed the book when I heard my mother’s door and hurried out the door. I slid down one of the hidden passageways in our large manor house and hurried to the back entrance so I wouldn’t be caught.

&nbs
p; If my Father knew I was going on another of my adventures, as he called them, he would kill me before the wolves had a chance too. However, I knew the paths to avoid in the forest and knew how to survive out there if I got lost. I had spent my childhood sneaking out to see the time-chiseled trees and walk up the well-trodden paths until I reached areas where no one ventured.

  The forest had always called to me. I would take books with me and read them in quiet, under the canopy of the forest. There was something magical about getting lost in another world between the pages of a hardback.

  I slid down the narrow passageway and emerged at the other end. I threw my bag out first and hurried out. The sounds of maids approaching pushed me into a run in the opposite direction. I just made it to the back entrance in time for my father’s booming voice. “She’s bloody run off again.”

  That was my cue to go.

  I ran through the gardens, over the grass, and past the stone fountain. The air had a chilly bite to it, and the sun was just peeking through the grey clouds.

  Dodging the locals, I scurried around the market stalls and up the stone steps past an old castle. Each village had one. Where the king could come and stay if he chose too. The building eerily reminded me of the one in my dreams. When I walked around the outside of the walls, I could even see the small window that I would look at in my dreams.

  I was curious to go inside, but it was guarded, and they’d never let me in – well, perhaps they would when I married the duke, I pondered.

  I reached the edge of the forest before noon. The trees welcomed me home and the birds sang a melody only they knew. I pulled out my book and wandered through the tree line. Alone time. That’s all I wanted.

  I looked up after reading the last page and seeing the magical, but sad words – The End. It was getting dark. I hadn’t realized I had wandered out so far. It would take me hours to get back. My dad was going to kill me. I could imagine him pleading with the duke to give me another chance to meet. It was a depressing thought.

  The trees there were narrower. I hadn’t noticed them or the skull-littered ground until now. Where the hell had I ended up? I thought I’d searched every edge of the forest, but as is the beauty with nature, there’s always a hidden place that you could find yourself lost in.

  Wherever I had happened upon was not a happy place. The leaves looked like ash, and the plants were dead. I looked around for some clue of how to go back. That’s when I saw it.

  It was as if I had been transported into the same book that had gotten me lost in the first place.

  A rose was laying on the ground, illuminated by the sunlight peeking through the branches. It looked just like the rose from the Tale of the Three Princes. Seeing something from your favorite story in real life, there is just no excitement that can match that. The petals were as red as blood and it glowed as if it was magic. Surrounding the rose were shards of glass from what looked like a broken casing.

  I picked it up and immediately felt a rush of adrenaline course through me. It did something to me. I felt powerful with it in my hands.

  That feeling didn’t last long.

  I heard someone run up behind me. I turned as he reached me. The man looked down at the rose with a mischievous grin. He had long, wavy hair, and honey-brown eyes.

  “Hand it over.” He demanded. His tone was brash, but his light expression never wavered.

  I heard a noise coming from behind me. The mystery man quickly grew impatient and his expression turned to one of fear. He grabbed the rose from me, cutting my hands with the thorns, and pushed me down to the ground. Dirt filled my vision, temporarily blinding me. I heard his footsteps get fainter as he ran, and another set of footsteps getting closer to me.

  “Where is the rose?” Another man growled.

  “I don’t know.” I foolishly replied.

  He kneeled down by my side and pushed a knife against me. “Where is it?”

  “Please, I don’t know. Please don’t.” I begged.

  He pulled the blade through my skin. I bit down hard as the pain seared up my arm and into my chest. “Where is it?” He demanded again, although I had no answer.

  I felt lightheaded as he dug the blade in further. I screamed out but it was no use. I was far away from home. I couldn’t see a thing. Everything was painful. I wanted it to end.

  It was as if I had fallen into one of my nightmares. Except for this time, it was real.

  Before I passed out, I felt myself being across the grass by my feet. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew it couldn’t be anywhere nice.

  Was that the end of my story?

  Chapter Two

  Four months later

  He was ruthless and uncaring. He didn’t care about me, only that he got his rose back which would never happen. Not from me, anyway.

  But he had a secret. I heard the end of whispers delicately littered through the halls outside of the doors that had kept me locked inside the windowless room. The prince was scared of something, but I could never catch what it was. I eavesdropped at the door morning through night hoping to find out something that could help me.

  I had given hope of being rescued.

  My father, a man who would tear apart the whole kingdom to find me, was dumbfounded by my whereabouts. At least I guessed as I hadn’t been found yet. I hoped they hadn’t had given up on searching for me, thinking me dead – eaten by a wild animal as I went off on one of my many adventures.

  That rose, wherever it was, was my only hope, but it was gone. I had tried telling them that again and again, but it fell on deaf ears. His guards were cruel. They would hit me, throw me against the wall, and have what they referred to as ‘playful fun’.

  The man who was keeping me hostage in his castle was well-versed in hiding away. Even since he fell from his rule, he had become a myth – the ghost of a whisper around the small town of Cañar in our kingdom of Magiq. A story in my favorite book.

  The story had first been told hundreds of years ago, supposedly. I wondered how he must still be alive after all this time?

  The young prince who fled the kingdom with his two brothers when his own people rose against them, demanding their heads on a spike. The whole kingdom had gone into a famine, all because of their greedy king and his horrible sons. They captured the King and killed him, but the princes escaped and hadn’t been heard from since.

  Until now.

  The story was so unbelievable that anyone who had read the book had passed it off as fiction. Now, I was trapped inside of the story I loved, except I was a victim. Not the heroine.

  The prince who lived in that castle was Clarence, the youngest prince. A necromancer with powers to bring back the dead.

  Those four stone walls with no windows and a singing wardrobe had become my home for the last four months. I felt like I was trapped in some crazy fairytale.

  After I was tortured and plead my innocence, I was locked away.

  There was nothing I could do except hope the prince wouldn’t end up seeing my uselessness and kill me in my sleep. I looked at the wall, wishing I had a window if not to escape then just to see the sunlight peek through the drapes in the morning.

  I looked at the wardrobe. She was sleeping. “Hey,” I shouted to wake her up. I had long come to peace that I was talking to objects. Either I had finally gone mad, or this was real. Either way, I didn’t like it.

  She stayed asleep. She slept through everything. The old hag. At least I presumed she was old because the clothes she pulled out for me would better suit my grandmother than me, a nineteen-year-old.

  Three loud knocks at the door made me jump. I was standing in a silk gown that clung to my wide hips and narrow waist. He had picked it out for me. It was either I wore that or wore nothing at all. I hated it, the castle, and everyone inside of it.

  “What?” I shouted at the closed doors.

  The doors opened, revealing a young woman in a silver dress that reached the floor. She was Asian and had long black hair.
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br />   “Clarence asks for your company at dinner in an hour.” She announced as if she were reading a script. “He requests you wear this dress.” As she said that, a man walked in holding a dress bag and hung it over the four-post bed.

  I didn’t attempt to mask my surprise at the invitation. “Why does he want to have dinner with me now?”

  She looked around, unsure of what to say. I guessed he didn’t tell her what to say if I questioned her. “Be ready in one hour. Someone will be up to take you down.” She stated and left the room.

  I sighed when the doors slammed shut. The prince liked pretty things, including women. In my limited time out of the room – mainly to use the bathroom – I had seen so many beautiful women walking the halls. He was hidden away, but he was not a lonely man.

  Beyond the confines of the forest in the kingdom hidden behind enchanted vines and gates, he had his own small kingdom.

  I eyed the dress bag. Well, at least I had a chance to plead my innocence with the man himself.

  In an act of desperation, I pulled down the zipper on the bag and pulled out the ruffles on the skirt of the dress. It was blue with a corset top and diamonds around the A-line neckline.

  I shook my head. The dress was beautiful, it was a shame the company would be nothing but.

  I noticed as I was escorted down to dinner that everyone in the castle either wore blue or silver. I looked down at my dress in disgust. It looked like I belonged here.

  The Asian lady walked me into the dining room. It was bigger than my whole house back home. The three chandeliers sparkled. I presumed they were covered with real diamonds.

  “He likes to show off,” I said to no one in particular.

  The woman leaned in and whispered in my ear. “He’s not that bad once you get to know him.”

  I scoffed and took my seat. The placemat was monogrammed with his initials. CA. The house of Alicaster.