Elysium: Desired by the Cold-hearted Princess [GL]

Electra's POV

I heard everything.

Every single word that came out of their mouths while I lay still and unconscious on that infirmary bed. They thought I couldn't hear them. They thought I was just some lifeless body, slowly slipping away without an audience, but I was there.

I was right behind them, watching, listening, and most of all, breaking.

It started minutes after I passed out in Seraphina's arms. One minute, I was aware of the sharp sting on my neck, the heat rushing through my bloodstream, and her panicked voice screaming my name, and the next minute, there was silence. Heavy, and terrifying silence.

Then, my eyes opened.

At first, I thought I had woken up. I thought I'd simply blacked out and now everything was fine again, that maybe the poison or whatever had gotten into me had worn off, but that illusion shattered quickly when I tried to move and saw my own body still lying there, unmoving, pale, and far too still.

I was standing. On my feet, and I could see the room, as well as the nurses, but it wasn't real. I wasn't real.

My soul… my soul had left my body, and it hurt to even think that.

Before I could even fully comprehend what was happening, the door opened, and in came the king and queen, my so-called parents. For some reason, my heartbeat, or the memory of it, ached with longing.

I suddenly started to think that they were here for me, that they cared, and that at the very least, my condition had scared them. I thought for a second that the reality of possibly losing me had shaken them into remembering that I was their daughter, but that illusion crumbled just as fast as the first one.

Jella's voice was the first to slice through the room.

"I knew this was going to happen. The day you brought this cursed child into our home, I knew she'd end up being our biggest burden, but of course, you just had to connect with your obsession."

My breath hitched.

Vale tried to quiet her, and he told her to shut up, but she wouldn't stop. She went on and on about how I wasn't their child, about how he barely lifted a finger to raise me, about how he should deny me, and then she said something that genuinely shocked me beyond words.

She mentioned how my father had killed my mother after she gave birth to me and then stolen me from her.

On hearing that, I couldn't move. I was so disoriented that I didn't even know what to think, and the worst part was that he didn't deny it.

He didn't scream at her that it was a lie. Instead, he told her to shut her "fucking mouth" and asked that what if the nurses could hear.

That was his concern. His reputation. Not the daughter he stole or the woman he killed.

I backed away. Not physically, but emotionally, I took a thousand steps backward, away from the people who had called themselves my parents.

I watched as Jella, that woman who had raised me like I was a cockroach in her kingdom, turned back to my body and said I should be killed. That I was a threat. That me being who I was, was a disgrace to the throne, and that if people found out what I really was, the entire royal family would be disgraced.

She wanted me gone, not just out of the palace, but of existence.

And my father? He didn't say no. He didn't scream and protest, and he didn't beg for my life or argue that I deserved to live.

He just stood there. Still, and silent just like every time I needed him as a child and he said nothing while Jella punished me, starved me, broke me down.

Just like every time I cried in secret and told myself at least I still had a father, but it turns out that I didn't, and I never did.

I was alone, and I had never felt that loneliness as deeply as I did in that moment, watching the one person who was supposed to love me casually discuss the best way to dispose of me.

Kill her.

That's what she said. Rhat it was the only solution, and the only way to free themselves from the "burden" that was me.

I had been many things in my life—silent, obedient, angry, and destructive—but I had never been broken, not fully. Not until now.

Because betrayal didn't hurt when it came from strangers or enemies. It hurt when it came from the only person you hoped truly loved you.

And what tore me apart the most was the realization that I had still loved him. Even after everything I just heard.

I loved my father.

I loved the man who stole me from my mother and murdered her, and I loved the man who never once said "I'm proud of you" or "I'm glad you're my daughter."

And yet, he was agreeing to plotting my death like it was a necessary cleanup of a mistake he never wanted in the first place.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shatter every wall in that room. I wanted them to know I was there, and I wanted them to see the pain they had caused me, but I couldn't do anything.

I was stuck.

Stuck in a body that couldn't move, stuck between life and death, and for the first time, I wasn't afraid of dying.

Instead, I was more afraid of what I would become if I survived because the girl that lay on that bed, unconscious and bruised, wasn't coming back the same.

If I lived, I wouldn't be the Electra Vale they had known because that Electra died the moment she found out the truth about her whole life being a lie.

I hugged my arms around myself, trying to feel something, anything, when the lights in the room suddenly dimmed even more than they already were, and then I heard it.

The voice. That same damn voice.

"Really?" I muttered, my voice echoing slightly even though no one else could hear me. "You couldn't show up while I was awake and well? You had to wait until I'm half-dead?"

From the shadows, he came out again, the creature with the twisted face and those long, bony fingers that always looked like they were reaching for something. Still ugly, still unsettling, and still acting like he owned the place.

He didn't respond to my sarcasm. Instead, he chuckled like I had just told him a hilarious joke.

"Would you like to see the world with me?" he asked.

I blinked at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He tilted his head, like he was amused by my confusion. "Come now, Electra. Don't act like you aren't curious."

"I'm not curious," I snapped. "If anything, I'm annoyed, and if you're trying to trick me into doing something stupid, then save yourself the trouble. I'm not in the mood."

He stepped closer, and the way the shadows seemed to cling to him made my stomach twist. "Don't be so dramatic," he said smoothly. "You're not dead yet, but you're not quite alive either. That means you have a choice. You can follow me, or you can stand here waiting for someone to come save you."

I glared at him. "And where exactly are you planning to take me?"

"To see the world," he said again, as if it were the most obvious thing. "To see truths you haven't been told and to find even more answers. Isn't that what you want?"

Of course, I wanted answers. I wanted to know why my parents lied. Why my father murdered my mother and why I was cursed to be dying like this, but I didn't trust this thing, and the fact that he showed up now, when I was so vulnerable, only made it worse.

Still, something deep in my gut told me this wasn't just some spontaneous visit. He had been waiting for this moment.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I said. "Not unless you tell me what the hell is going on."

He stared at me for a few seconds. His face didn't move. Not a twitch, not a blink. Then he said softly, "You will come, Electra. You always do."

And before I could say anything else, the world around me shifted.