Purloined Beauty Read online

  Purloined Beauty

  By Donna A Gilmore

  Message for the reader:

  “Whatever you believe in will determine how well you progress in this world. No matter what has been said about you or done to you. You have the power to become whomever you desire to be in this world. BE IT!!!”

  Chapter One: In the beginning and the end

  In the beginning, I admired her wicked ways. I wished I could be as she is. I wished I could be as she was. I never saw it coming, the betrayal, or deceit. One would say, I was naïve to believe she would not betray me. You have to understand. She was my stepsister and my friend. I believed this all began because I was set to marry a gentleman or one I perceived to be a gentleman. His name was Loki; he was tall dark and handsome. He was everything you could want in a man. Except he was two-timing me with my step sister, Delilah. The jealousy evolved because he favored me. She felt he loved me more. I believed, she was wrong. It enraged her so much so; she used dark magic to turn me into an Ogre, a beast. I was angry at first but later realized this was all needed. I needed to see, feel, and understand my place in this world. My place in this world. I needed to find out who I am. My name is Amara Venustas. This is my story and how it ends will shock everyone.

  Amara Venustas the Ogre

  My father died in a war four years ago; my sister, my mother, and I have been surviving very well on our own. We take turns cleaning the house, cooking, and washing clothes. Our food and everything was always supplied for us. Mystery, I suppose. Our mother said we just need to thank the heavens. So I do every day. We work to take care of the palace. Strange to most folks but we only wanted to keep to ourselves. My mother was an orphan, and my sister and I were never introduced to my father's side of the family. My mother Bestla was a beauty; she was of us both. She had beautiful long brown hair, full of waves. She had beautiful bright eyes like the sun. I would look at my mother and be happy that she was my mother. My mother is very giving and caring. She rarely had to admonish us, girls. I believe it is because we take after her. Our father was a bit on the wild side. He was very adventurous and vigorous. He was built like a warrior, with long light brown hair and brown eyes. He was always there to help anyone in need. When my father was called to battle, it was hard to swallow. My mother begged and pleaded with him not to leave. His honor could not be questioned, so he left at midnight to surprise his enemies. It was the very next day the message came to deliver that our father had been killed along with everyone around him. He died like any other hero protecting the ones around him. He was the last to fall and took out over 100 men. We were proud of him even in death. My sister and I took it very hard. Mother put herself into housework. Soon she gave up and decided to hire help around the palace. After my father had died, it changed how close we were to our mother, and also my sister and I became closer. My sister, she told me that, she wished for me, and when my mother became pregnant with me she hoped for a baby sister, and when I was born, I was just as she'd hoped. My sister and I have something common, because if I'd wish for an older sister. I'd wish for her. I guess you could say my life was somewhat of a perfect one. We had food water; we made our clothes. We had a farm full of animals. We lived on a vast land. In a large house with seven rooms. We were well off than most, I thought so, and I found out later I was wrong.

  Over the years my mother became lonelier, and she appeared fragile in spirit. She would stare at the pictures of father and sob. She would smell his clothes. Her tears would soak the pillows and for a long time. My sister and I were worried our mother would never find happiness again. We were all convinced she would die of a broken heart and there was nothing we could do about it. Over time mom discussed how we got such beautiful things. Mom would make dresses for queen's favorite shop. My mother delivered them before my father's passing, but after my sister and I went in town. She would not let us leave the house to trade with the people of the common lands. She changed and one day to stop traveling. She made the help do the trading from then on. She kept us hidden away from everyone in town. It was sad; she believed my father's enemies were our enemies. We struggled for years to understand what war father was fighting; there was no record of it. No one in town seemed to know who or what our father was fighting. It will always be a mystery to us. Mother became interested over time, and that was when she met our stepfather Abbe Black. He was an honorable man; his wife had died around the same time our father was killed. He and mother bonded over that. He was tall and bearded. He was far from a warrior; he fit the presence as he was a salesman. He bought items from the trade fixed them and sold them. He was very crafty and witty. His daughter Delilah was a handful. Delilah was a dark beauty with light, bright features. Her hair was blonde with red highlights. Her eyes were as blue as the ocean, and her skin was of silk, pale. She looked as if she was a flawless beauty, but deep inside there was a terror brewing. Abbe felt a woman's touch would soften her up; she was very feminine but not soft and kind. Abbe felt that marrying my mother Bestla would change her. He was so wrong.

  After the transformation, I changed a little in the inside. Yes, I was a beast on the outside, but I was still Amara on the inside. What beauty I had on the outside all belonged to Delilah, my stepsister. I would sit and stare at my reflection in the river. I would see my teeth, and feel ashamed. My eyes were supposed to elude terror, but it was a doe. I would wonder about my stepsister if she changed. I learn she was still the same on the inside; nothing could change that. I, on the other hand, had to learn how to be a beast. It was hard. At first, my sister would come to me at night. I felt as if she knew it was me. But she felt pity. She explained that I was not the same beast that took her sister. I did not understand her then; I tried to tell her who I was. Instead, she I could feel that she felt I had gotten lost from family. She felt I needed someone just like her sister, which she believed was lost, would need someone. Every day she would come into the woods. She would feed me leftovers. There were times she would eat with me. She was never afraid to come and find me. She spoke about me her sister, often and sobbed. I wished I could comfort her and tell her I am right here. I did not have words just the sounds of a beast. One day, when I got the courage to try, she didn't come. Many nights, she didn't come. I felt something horrible had happened. I just could not bear to think of the worst. So, I decided to forget I had any family. I decided to forget, who I was before and it was hard to because Loki was constantly looking for me, the beast. He was chasing me every day screaming, shooting at me. He was relentless. I wasn't a beast, an ogre on the inside. I could not kill as beast kill, or attack as they would attack. I would hide, and in some ways, I believe it made it easier for him not to kill me. Never the less, I did not give him the opportunity. I would hide where ever I could. It did not stop him. He would search for me until nightfall. All while he was searching for me or should I say the beast. I was shocked to learn about his nuptials to Delilah. I was hiding, and one night I heard one voice I had not heard before, speak about nuptials. All the while he was searching for me. He had been planning a wedding. He was marrying Delilah, and at the time I was pleased. It would have been what I would have wanted. Yes, until I overheard Loki say how long he had been seeing her. He told the gentleman how Delilah, told him it was either her or me. He said he chose me every time. It hurt me so much. Not the betrayal of Loki, but the deception of Delilah. She never at any time came out to search for me. My mother did, my sister did, and even my stepfather did, her father. I wondered why, was she sad, or in mourning, what would explain why Delilah never came. In those days, I would wonder, but I later found the answer.

  After I had heard the bells, Loki did not search for me anymore. In his place, a half man-like animal that smelled came into the woods. Where he was bef
ore, I did not know. He was so sad. He destroyed every single tree, every place on the ground deepened where he walked. He was destructive. He did not speak as Loki did. He did release words, well not like a human would. He growled and grunted. And oddly, I could understand every single wordless grunt. I learned who was all responsible for this. Delilah. The spells he chanted over and over, he screamed because the spells did not work. He did not really care to find me. He wanted to be a man again. He was searching for me, but I believed If he'd found me. He would only enjoy my company. On the full moons, he would growl out loudly, cursing her name. He would plead to be changed back. He hated himself for loving her. He hated himself for being her slave. He hated not being loved back. He hated no matter how much she hurt him; he knew Delilah did not care about him enough to change him back. To learn about Delilah we have to start from the beginning of her story and mine. How this all began and learned who Delilah is.

  One year earlier………

  "Girls, Girls, I would like to introduce you to someone. This is Abbe Black and his daughter Delilah Black", says mother. "Welcome them in." As Amara and her sister, Oila approached Delilah and Abbe. The sense of disappointment rushed through Oila. She looks at Delilah and notices her enchantment with Amara. Amara was beautiful, but it was more the beauty within that seemed to distract Delilah. "Hello, and which sister are you" replies Delilah. A beautiful smile rushes across Amara's face as she responds back to Delilah "I am Amara Venustas, and this is my sister Oila Venustas, it is very nice to meet you finally" says Amara. "Pleasant of you" replies Delilah. Oila was disappointed in Delilah's behavior. She did not acknowledge her presence; she was more drawn to Amara. It did not bother her that Delilah was so drowned to Amara, they were closer in age. It concerned her. "Delilah, let us show you, your room" Oila replies as she grabs Delilah's bag that was neatly sitting on the floor. "NO!" says Delilah startling Oila. "I can take that myself, no need to have you carrying my bags, we are family now," says Delilah with a pleasant smile. Oila was not even amused by her, but she smiled and moved aside to allow Delilah to walk ahead with Amara. She was not a fan of Delilah, her first impression seemed to give off a vibe she could not describe, but she pushed it aside, and Amara appears to enjoy Delilah's presence, so as months went on it became less of a concern. Abbe and Bestla stayed back as they watched the girls head upstairs to their rooms. Abbe turns and looks at Bestla. "I am so happy, this day was a beautiful day," he says. "I believe you have wonderful, well-behaved daughters, and I believe they shall be a great influence on Delilah." He wraps his arms around Bestla and kisses her on the forehead. "I do believe we will have our hands full in a few months," says Bestla. "Oila has not married, Delilah and Amara are approaching the courting age" She continues. "We must get them ready to be married." Abbe walks up to the stairs and waits for Bestla to come to walk with him. "We have great daughters, and I believe they deserve to have what we have, but allow me to talk things over with Delilah." Abbe seemed as if he was not interested in discussing giving away his only daughter, but understood the concerns of Bestla.

  Chapter 2 Delilah

  I hate her, and she doesn't even know it. I hate her smile, her eyes. I hate all that makes her beautiful. At the same time. I wish I were her. She has everything her mother that loves her and a sister that will protect her. All I have is an overprotective father, who will not allow me to be who I am. Who I am, the daughter of Abbe and Peeva. My father is human, my mother, on the other hand, was remarkable. She was a shapeshifter and occasionally, a black magic sorcerer. I laugh about it some. She hid all of this from my father at . First, he was somewhat of a holy man, honorable, so good in so many ways. His honor did not protect my mother. She is no longer here with me. My mother died when I was 13, and I was all alone. She taught me everything she knew. I began witchcraft at the age of 5. It was fun watching mother tricking father with her spells. One would assume spells was how she maintain their marriage. It was all a sham, and I was used to playing along. My father was devastated when my mother was killed. She was haunted down by witch hunters. My father was in disbelief at first, but he later admitted it to himself. It took him some time but later he began to believe my mother was a witch. Let me tell you; my mother was no witch. She was a sorcerer, a magician, a formidable opponent, not an ugly, big nose, broom carrying, old hag, yelling out spells and making potions. My mother was the queen of dark magic. She was powerful. She ruled with deception. I worked hard to be like her; I would love to be like my mother. My father did not see it that way at all. My father felt I needed good female companionship. He felt he could not take care of a young lady on his own. After my 15th birthday. My father introduced to my stepmother. My father remarried when I was 16 to a woman named Bestla Venustas. Bestla had two daughters. Her daughter Oila Venustas was pretty and smart. Oila did not amuse me. She was the older sister, of the two. The other sister, Amara Venustas was the younger sister by a few years. She was more pleasant than her sister. She was instantly attractive and alluring. I was instantly attracted to her humility and kindness. She acquired all the good things; I could never poses even if I cast a spell to do so. Oila, however, was unpleasant to me. She was quiet plain in her looks. She had light brown hair and blues eyes. Her skin was faintly brown. I did not admire her beauty, as I did Amara's. Oila, well she was pleasant to everyone else. I liked it. I believe she could feel I had hatred for her and her sister, but she at that time it did not seem as if she had mentioned it to Amara. Maybe she felt as I did or maybe she could not prove I was anything, but a friend of her perfect sister Amara. I always wanted what Amara had, a quill, paper, hair pins, and her clothes. If I wanted it and whatever I desired. Amara gave it to me as if she had to buy my love. I loved her, and that sickened me. Her mother was the same. Bestla was kind, giving, a wonderful woman, and a great mother. I hated her; I hated her kindness so much.There was no vulgar or foul language, no evil spells. It sickened me. She hid nothing from my father. All that she was, he knew it, and he loved it. She was nothing like my mother. How perfect she was angered me. Bestla decided that we should prepare ourselves to be courted. I was against it at first until I saw Loki.

  As we reached adulthood, we were courted by gentlemen. I was the second because Oila was a two years older than me and three years older than Amara. Abbandon was the first man to court me. He was just like I, evil, ruthless, and vindictive. He hated all that was good and favorable. He hated Amara, Oila, and Bestla. He also hated my father, and for a while, I could not understand why. It was clear as time passed, my father was a good man. He seems to have nothing evil inside, is it possible that something evil could love anything good? Or can it not? How could I explain my love for Amara? Maybe, I hated her because I loved her. Abbandon was my friend more than anything, and he could not understand I would not feel the same about him. When we were together, Abbandon and I, we would cast spells, none on any human, at that time. We were too afraid of the consequences black and dark magic had. I was a coward for a long time until I met another gentleman named Loki. Well, I did not meet Loki, Amara did. He was the man she was set to marry on her 18th birthday, and I wanted him. I knew Amara would not give me the man she loved. I wanted him because he was Amara's. I thought he only had eyes for her, to the outside world she was the only one he fancied. I did not use any magic on Loki; he came to me. He was not the good ole boy Amara believed. He was treacherous, and deceitful, which I adorned. At first, I felt sorry for the precious Amara, but that quickly changed. She was blinded by her own eyes; it was not my fault she could not see through his mask. Who can blame me for seeing what I wanted and claiming it? Sadly, in Loki's heart, he or it was not mine to claim. He made it clear to me when he declared his love for Amara. He felt he loved and belonged to Amara; it so angered me. He loved all the good in her, all which made her beauty shine. I tried to make him leave her for me. But he fancied her more than I, and it taunted me. Abbandon saw how I had changed. I became emotionless, and I would not talk to him, anyone. He tried to rever
se my love with a black magic spell. He was not good at casting spells. The spell transformed him. He cast a spell that he believed would win my affection, but it instead, turned him into a heartless monster, which did whatever I commanded. He cast a spell to be my slave. That is so funny. My beast to control. Abbandon didn't actually write the spell, of course, he came to me for a spell and insisted it was for someone else, another woman. I, the ingenious one, gave him a spell that I felt suited him better. I am the clever one of the two. I was furious, how dare he come to me requesting a spell for another woman? Another woman he claimed he fancied. I am very selfish, and I will never let Abbandon have all the power. He is all that I have. After he had learned of my betrayal; Abbandon retreated into the woods and would only return upon my command. His transformation gave me an idea, one that I was proud I came up with myself. I could see the hurt in Abbandon's eyes. It was the saddest thing. I didn't care enough to reverse the spell, and he was not happy. He could not cast a spell to change it either, and I loved it, I was the one in control. The taste of power that had me witless. I set my sights on Amara. I wanted Loki, and I could not stand sharing him another minute. I went to Loki one last time. I told him if he did not end his courtship for Amara to be with me. It is completely over with him and me. He begged me to change my mind, but I determined to push the pins and needles in. I could not stand another minute watching him gaze at Amara as if I was not there. He never looked at me like that. He would kiss her hands so softly, my lips; he was never so delicate. I so loved his kisses but wondered why his touch with her was so delicate. He treated her like he was preserving her. It was hard to watch, and I told him. I could not bear to sit and watch him with her. He backed away from me, and I was devastated. I hated him for it, but who could blame him. Amara was more beautiful than I, even I, wanted to be around her. I wanted all of what she was that I could not be. Into the woods I went and summoned Abbandon, he told him to bring Amara to me. I cast a spell on Loki. I wanted him to believe Amara was taken and killed by a beast, and her lifeless body was dragged into the woods. What happened was Abbandon trashed Amara's room and took her away into the woods to me. Abbandon did as I had asked, he blew the poison into her face as she slept. She did not awaken when her room was trashed or when her sister awoke from her sleep, screaming her name as she watched Abbandon carry her into the woods. I wish I could have seen the hurt in her eyes; the pain would have given me so much pleasure. I would have loved to hear the cries of her mother, as Oila tells them she sees the beast dragging Amara's lifeless body into the woods. Loki was a witness as well, I did see his hurt, but as they say, no pain, no gain. I asked Abbandon to bring her to me, and he did just as I asked. In her sleep, she was a beauty. The poison did not disturb her beauty. She was so peaceful and illuminating. I could not bear it, so I had to do it. I cast the spell that would take all her beauty from inside and out and give it to me. All the evil I had stored would now be her reflection; she would be as Abbandon is but worse. The spell changed her into an Ogre. When she awoke from the poison, went home. She did not know her reflection or that her precious Loki was hunting her. Believing she was responsible for her own death. I felt this was so funny and clever ending for her. When she came home, she was greeted by screams and falling dishes. I was so full of laughter; I could barely contain myself when I heard the screams the first time. Amara was such silly beast. She kept coming home, trying to speak, but the words she spoke were loud growls. I was so fascinated by my work. I enjoyed it all until her sister; Oila decided one day to talk about the beast to her mother. She told her mother the coming to the palace was not the same as the one who took Amara, and the silly girl said that creature reminded her of her sister. Odd that she could see such and named the best that reminded her of her sister, her Bestia. I would listen in on wild accusations about the beast that took Amara. Luckily, Loki described an Ogre that resembled the creature I changed Amara into; it shut down her nonsense, but she still became a pain in my plans. She would go out to woods and bring what she called Bestia, Amara's favorite food. Something had to be done, so I cast a spell to blind Oila, because of the sudden blindness, she was treated like she was sick or ill and was not allowed to leave her room. She was escorted by her mother, and Oila who was once so independent became depressed; she sobbed in her room at night. The poor thing cried her eyes out every night. Her sister Amara never understood why her sister suddenly abandoned her. Poor Amara, no one to turn to, she also cried her beastly eyes out. My job was done for now. Loki and I can finally get married, just as Amara would want, what was once hers is now all mine. "Morning, today is my wedding day," says Delilah as she comes down the stairs ringing a silver bell. Bestla was up early as normal making breakfast and preparing for the nuptials. She was frigid and was not interested in partaking in any wedding. She started to feel like something was missing. She had not thought about her missing daughter, Amara for years. It seemed to cause a bit of concern for Abbe and Oila, but neither spoke about it. Delilah walks into the kitchen smiling ringing her bell, irritating Oila who hated her presence. Oila was now convinced that Delilah had something to do with Amara's disappearance. She felt she had something to do with her blindness. She felt it deep down and knew you she had no way to prove it. Each morning Oila’s breakfast was met with tears. "No, No, not today, Oila. Today is my day" Delilah says out loud gaining the attention of Bestla and the other servants. Bestla approaches Oila to escorts Oila to her room.