The Criswell's Curse

As Bradley left, hours prior still in the Criswell’s estate, Amanda was in a state of complete disbelief, not comprehending what had just transpired before her very eyes. And even then, Alvin seemed too focused to explain anything to her.

“Father... What happened to him!?” Her obnoxious voice echoed through the room, but his mind had wandered off somewhere far more obscure, far more wicked.

He’d grown worried about the current situation; how could everything have gone astray? For many years, he’d been so detailed with all his plans, always setting up the pieces of the game so tidily, using each paw to its fullest potential. And now, everything was falling into ruin – all because of that cursed kid.

His plans to be the first noble to reach the lost status of Grand-Duke had started generations ago, since his ancestors gained the Dukedom. However, all the previous kings wished to keep the nobles at bay, battling each other for something that was but a mere hope, thus, no high-noble ever received the title. But he was cunning, and he was smart.

He knew if his contributions to the kingdom were great enough to be acknowledged by the citizens, most nobles and the royal family itself, the king would have no other choice than to bestow the highest honor, the most wanted title to the most deserving man.

Such plan had been set into motion years before his children’s birth; the day Alvin’s greed had become higher than the humanity in his heart. He’d realized that to support his claims he needed allies, men of power that could back him, willingly or forcefully.

Frustration on his first daughter’s birth turned into a pleasurable desire, as years made her fairer. He had no son to carry his name, but his daughters were beautiful enough to marry other heirs, securing simple control of other houses with their influence. That was why he’d invited, on a wonderful Blistering afternoon, Carlyle Trace and his wife, for a cup of tea. Being attracted to pretty things, Amanda saw young Bradley, losing her heart to nothing more than an illusion.

Once the bait settled, a strange rumor circulated through the capital, extending far and wide to all other duchies. The Angel of the Kingdom was the nickname Alvin created for the most beautiful yet unattainable bachelor: the one no maiden could ever possess as his being was far too holy to stain. Even then, some more resilient families continued to attempt their luck, but they ended up backing away once their businesses became threatened by Alvin’s powerful social presence.

If Duke Trace hadn’t invested in some mines in the northern area, both parties would already be wed and none of this would have happened. They stopped talking for months and yet, just when he returned, Ophelia had meddled like an annoying brat.

What did she do...? Harshly, he grabbed his knees, tightening his grip on his stinging articulations – a cursed gift carelessly given by time.

Alvin had heard the whispers regarding his daughter’s change of personality, but he didn’t want to believe it. Even when Vanessa and Penny came begging at his door for mercy, he didn’t want to accept such words as a reality. He had raised her to be obedient, the perfect pawn. And yet, she appeared to be working against his desires.

Everything was part of the plan, even that brat’s engagement with Terrel. The Duke had invited Edgar and knowing how much he yearned for a daughter; he showed off Ophelia from afar as she sat in the garden, pitifully so. Almost instantly, a wound in his heart healed, and soon, the verbal promise of engagement was formed.

I wanted to announce the engagement after her debut*... That had been his original plan but, somehow, it didn’t develop as it should. Wait... could she have done it on purpose!?

“Father! Are you listening?” Amanda continued to relay her frustrations to her mentally exhausted parent.

“Shut up! You ungrateful child!” The last strand of patience within the Duke’s soul snapped, forcing his body to jump out of the divan and hit his daughter’s cheek again. The girl’s eyes shimmered, tears beginning to pour out. “I’m sorry Amanda, let Father think for a moment.”

Alvin sighed. Ophelia had just left the mansion. She didn’t know how to read or write; she knew nothing. It was impossible for her to concoct such a well-thought plan.

Amanda needed to marry Bradley. She wouldn’t be able to withstand Terrel’s torture. He didn’t prepare her to; however, the perfect pawn, his second child, was a different story. She would bear any abuse as she yearned for acceptance, for any type of love.

Feeling slightly more relaxed, he grabbed Amanda’s arm, helping her up. Slowly, they both sat down on the couch. “I think he’s simply stressed. He just told me how hard things have been in the northern mines...”

“Stop lying, Father! I know this is about that wench!” Amanda’s tears overflew as her bottled up emotions uncontrollably poured out. “It’s her! It has to be her!”

A migraine formed in the Duke’s body, born from his daughter’s obnoxiously loud crying. The moment he was about to sip a bit of the tea, hoping to relief some of his pain, an idea came to mind.

“Of course! How come I didn’t think of this before?”

Confused, Amanda sobs stopped, struggling to understand what was happening. “What...?”

“My dear, we simply have to trap her until your marriage.”

The girl frowned, suspicious of such a sketchy plan. “How will we do that, Father? There’s no way she will come here willingly.”

“Amanda, dear, you look pale. Don’t you feel unwell?” His hand touched the girl’s cheeks, forcing her to turn reflectively. Her muscles were still sore from the impact they had suffered moments before.

“But what if she doesn’t come?”

The room grew quiet, a strange coldness lingering in the air. Alvin’s expression was stiff yet emotionless. “Problems ought to be disposed of.”

A shiver ran down the girl’s spine. Is father going to kill Ophelia? Even though she’s his daughter?

She hated her sister and knew that their father shared the same feelings as her. He had always blamed her for Lilith’s death, but this... was entirely different. Amanda thought about killing her sister, but those were simply wicked thought that would never come true. And yet, her father’s stern expression gave away the most shrouded thoughts of his soul - he was completely serious.

She must take after her deceased mother. She had a bad habit of spending money impulsively. That was the Duke’s answer to Bradley’s question.

Words from older times rung in her head, clear as the light of the sun. She recalled the disgust in her father’s tone; the repulsion hidden behind his sugar-coated words.

This hatred... is it truly because of mother...? The more she analyzed it, the worst she felt. Amanda’s gut kept on telling her something wasn’t right; that father never loved mother. Her expression gradually turned paler as an imminent fear grew inside her, each moment closer to her core.

Alvin placed his warm hand on her forehead. “Dear, are you alright?”

She simply nodded with a forced smile on her lips. Except for the times she overdid it, Duke Criswell was always kind, giving in to every craving she had, fixing every problem she created. And, just like that, the thoughts that once haunted her mind became nothing, but some rummaged memories that soon fell into oblivion.

*Debut: An appearance in a particular capacity; in this case is when young maidens present themselves into society as marriage prospects.