Soda's Vending Machine

How the Tables Have Turned

She crossed and uncrossed her legs for the umpteenth time, waiting for the door to the audience chamber to open. She had heard rumors of the 'peace treaty gift', and although it had been spoilt for her, she was still wondering if it was false. After all, how desperate was one to throw their only son and heir into her palace in hopes of a temporary peace? 

The corners of her lips lifted in anticipation as the scene where she met her gift played out in her head. She hid her face behind her fan. 

The doors creaked open, and she sat a little straighter. 

He entered hesitantly, pushed forward by someone behind him. He was smaller than she had expected. For a split second, she wondered if he was mistreated back at his own country. He inched forward, to the foot of her throne, not daring to meet her eyes. Robotically, he knelt before her, not saying a word. 

"So, they sent you here hoping you could appease my anger?" She lifted his chin up with the tip of her fan, leaning forward to get a better look at him. His clothes were definitely at least a week-old, his appearance telling of the terrible treatment he had received on the way here. Yet, he undoubtedly held the distinguishing features of royalty from the neighboring country.  

His eyes lacked any sort of emotion that she had looked forward to. No look of humiliation or even rebellion. Just mere resignation. "Boring." She scoffed, withdrawing her fan. With a wave of her hand, she had her servants bring him away. 

"To which palace will the Prince be assigned to?" 

She leaned into her throne, glancing at the prince from the corner of her eyes, before looking back at the servant. "Prince? I have no siblings nor children." 

"Please forgive me." The servant immediately bowed, nearly folding himself in half. "Which palace should I bring the young mister to?" Her lack of reaction prompted him to continue probing, though he didn't dare to stand up straight. 

"Wherever you see fit." She sighed, waving her hand again. "A mere toy doesn't have the honor of having a palace, don't you think?" 

~

She could hear the screams of her people from outside the window, accompanied by shouts, commands for them to quieten down. Neat but heavy footsteps thundered down the corridor, the floor shaking ever so slightly in rhythm with their steps. Seated atop her bed, she brings her knees closer to her chest.

Resting her head on her knees, she tries to ignore the falling feeling of her stomach, refuses to acknowledge the sound of her heart pounding by her ears. Her anxiety refuses to be silenced by any of the measures she has taken so far. 

For a moment, she wonders if this is how he felt when he first met her. Was this considered karma?

She hears the sound of the lock turning. She jumps when the door opens, her flustered gaze meeting with his. He offers a sinister smile, no warmth reaching his eyes. She cowers from his gaze, deciding to glance at the floor below him instead. He takes a few steps forward, each step intentionally slow. Each footstep resounds around the room, getting louder and louder. She feels her heart beat faster and faster. 

He stands right in front of her, his body blocking her view of the floor. She allows her gaze to become unfocused, her petty rebellion against him. He reaches forward, gripping her chin, forcing her to lift her head. She still tries to avoid his gaze. 

His grip is tight on her jaw. So tight that she is worried it might shatter under his grasp, and is sure that a bruise will form soon. "Now where should we put you, Your Majesty?" He drags the last two words out, his words like arrows, piercing through her. 

Was it too late to regret all that she had done to him? 

'Forgive me' were two words too heavy for her to speak. Even on the pain of death, she could not foresee herself speaking it. Her pride was too high to admit that she had done him wrong, even if she had known it. 

"Don't worry, Your Majesty," He leaned down, whispering by her ear. "I'll take good care of you, and all that you have left behind for me." His warm breath was ticklish by her ear, and she struggled to escape the unpleasant itchiness that shot down her spine. His firm grip on her kept her from squirming away. 

Finally, he took his hand away and took a step back. "You were always lacking in some skills," He drawled, looking her up and down as he took of his jacket. "But no worries, we have plenty of time for you to practice. This time, at my pace." 

A Cure for Many Desires

She hesitantly pushed the door open, poking her head through the crack. The reception was lavishly decorated, splashes of dark red adorning the walls. A beautiful chandelier hung from the middle, grandly decorated with all sorts of jewels. She wondered if she had come to the right place. Retreating, she searched her pockets for the namecard that had been handed to her. It was the same red that the walls were painted, with the shop name splashed across it in a cursive gold. Nothing else but a small line of the address was printed below the name. 

She doubled checked the address against her phone, making sure that it was the right place. Taking another deep breath, she pushed open the door again. Carefully, she slipped through the crack of the door, hoping not to catch the attention of anyone inside. 

"Welcome." Behind the counter, there was a man dressed neatly in a vest and tie. He was smiling warmly at her, as if he had been waiting for her to walk through the door this whole time. Her face immediately turned a bright shade of crimson at the thought of him having observed her acting as a thief would. If he was amused by her actions, his face gave away nothing. "Do you have a referral?" He chirped. 

She comforted herself that he probably didn't see anything, even though that was a lie too terrible to even believe. Still, she repeated it to herself like a mantra, chanting it as she handed the namecard over. His service smile never faded as he took the card with two hands, slipping it into a reader on the desk. 

"First time here ma'am?" He asked. She wondered if her behavior hadn't been obvious enough that she was a first-timer, though he was definitely only asking because protocol required him to. "Well, please allow me to introduce you to our services." He gestured her forward, pulling out a information sheet and laying it on the table. 

The sheet was also printed in a classy font, with different prices printed all over it. "Depending on what service you require, and who you request, the following prices are per hour." He points to a chart on one page. She nods, quietly gulping at the number. "And if you require any additional services, or request more than one for company, there is an additional charge." He brings her attention to the next page, where there is a long list of additional services they offer. 

She silently takes note of this, continuing to nod at him. He finished up his explanation and waits for her to speak. 

"Well, may I know who is available today?" He brings out another album, where each employee's information is carefully written down on each page. "We have someone who is slightly more sadistic, I'd say. Not for the faint of heart, definitely not. But if sadomasochism is something you like, he'll be a good choice." The staff points to a particular profile. "Conversely, if you're into the more docile type," He flips two pages down, "He is a popular choice amongst mistresses." 

She ponders the two choices but prompts him to go on introducing. "Well, we have all kinds of employees available, really. It depends on what servies you'd like, Ma'am." 

She takes a moment before opening her mouth to speak.

Doggie for a day

Everyone has heard the legend before. One day, the Hero will come by and defeat the Demon King. He will restore peace to the world, and unite the people. For most people, the hero is just a legend that they look forward to coming through. For me, he is someone who my family has prepared for me the marry since I was born. 

It's rather ridiculous to me, really. That my family, because of some foolish tradition passed down by some wrinkly old people who were too muddled in the head to know what they were doing, decided that there always had to be an eligible daughter prepared to marry the hero. Whenever he appears. The idea of marrying some random man is not the issue. It's that I may never, in my lifetime, taste a man. 

The mere thought of that, is too unacceptable for me. 

But how would one run away? Not when your family is one of the most influential in the kingdom. Where can one go? How long can one hide when my family holds the power to turn over every single stone in this country? 

The answer, lies in the Demon King. 

See, while the Hero may never appear in my lifetime, the Demon King has been here since I was born. He was probably here since three generations ago, and even earlier, but that's besides the point. The only person capable of helping me escape from my family, and from this sort of nonsense fate, is the Demon King. And whilst he has remained rather undestructive and kept to himself for the past few centuries, it's not that hard to find him. 

And I've read enough novels to know that the Demon King would be fantastic, in all sorts of ways. A delicious first meal, if you ask me. 

So, of course, I'd packed my stuff and fled all the way into the Enchanted Forest, pushing through on the verge of dehydration, to collapse at the gates of the Demon King's castle. 

I woke up with chains on my wrists and ankles, the ends firmly secured to the walls. The floor and wall is damp, and there is an unpleasant scent in the air. Rashes has formed on my skin from the unclean surfaces that I have come in contact with. My throat hurts, screaming for water to relieve its pain. I squint, trying to make out the figure that is standing in front of me. Or rather, in front of my cell to be specific. 

"Before I send you off, would you care to tell me why you were scurrying around my front gate?" He asks. My vision is slightly blurry, perhaps from the dehydration. I can't really make out his features, but I can tell that I like his voice. 

"I was looking for the Demon King." I squeak to the best of my ability. The pain in my throat intensifies, though I ignore the burning sensation. "To offer myself as his bride." 

He throws his head back, his laughter filling my cell. "A mere human? My bride?" He scoffs. With one hand, he grips the bars of the cell and pulls it. It rips from the walls with a terrible thud. Casting the door aside, he strides towards me, bending down to meet my eyes. 

"The position of my bride is too grand for a human like you. But, I am not so heartless as to turn away a stray dog." His eyes glint with mischief, or at least I think they did. My body tingles with excitement at his words. Does this mean what I think it means?

"Woof" Without hesitation, I give him his reply. He is visibly pleased as he laughs again, ripping the ends of my chains from the wall as well, although he does not remove them from my limbs. I try to stand up, but am immediately stopped by his gaze. 

"You look like you need an awful lot of training." He mutters, rubbing his chin. I stare at him, not understanding what he means. He narrows his eyes, pointing to the ground. "A dog walks on fours." He points out matter-of-factly. I feel the heat on my face from his chiding, lowering my head. Though, I quickly get on both my hands and knees as well. He gives a satisfied hum, walking onwards. 

"Come." He beckons.