Awkward Post

I decided to post again considering that I (somehow) still have page viewers, even though all this time has passed. It almost makes me feel guilty, haha, although this story- despite having a quite intricate storyline- was very terribly written.
I didn't think I'd give up on a story more than 500 pages long, but to be honest, I've grown sick of it. I'm sick of writing things with limitations, always having to fulfill what others wanted of me inside a plot that used to be mine. I was open to ideas, to what other's wanted their characters to be; I didn't realize that it had gone too far, and I was becoming utterly and drastically bored out of my mind because I was making things certain ways in the plot that I didn't really find interest in. Of course, at the time, it all seemed wonderful. In the end, however, I realized that this plot I made had been transformed and mutated in so many various ways to please all of these people until it became something else entirely.
I may not post anymore chapters unless absolutely demanded to. These posts are free to be commented on by any follower/visitor. If you truly want to know everything that happens in the later chapters, I will be willing to tell it. It was all planned out, but it had been so difficult to write because of the boredom I felt. It was pressure, as well, that drove me into anxiety when I wrote these things.
Other than that, I have good news. I have started a new story. Its entirely my own, although I did get the idea from something else. But that's the point; I simply got the idea, nothing else. I'm making up my own plot, with my own characters, on my own terms. To be honest, I haven't had this much fun writing in years. I suppose I can say its 'Fresh'.
It will not be posted on a blog, however, due to the fact that I'm tired of having time limitations to finish my writing. When I finish it, I shall post it on Fan Fiction and (maybe) another blog- only if it is wanted.
I'm sorry that there were some fans out there that missed the story of Miss Mary and her fantasies, but I really just couldn't handle all of the mistakes in the story. Seriously, there were some parts that shouldn't have been added, and others where there was no foundation at all. The plot itself was just a puzzle, and it was too much.
If you are interested in the new story's name, it is simply called: "Sin." The highlighted summary below is the plot (kind of):
Siarya (the main character- "Sia" for short) will start off as a very self-absorbed princess, but this story is really made to show how a character can change because of certain events and people (which is why Siarya as a character fascinates me). The plot is adventurous, twisty, and a little nostalgic. Its basically about two warring kingdoms, an annoying yet intriguing 'princess', assassins full of their badassery, intimidating witches and evil(?) prince charmings mashed up into one big prophecy of the classic fairytale beginning, middle, and ending... Although not necessarily the classic we know.
And, well, I wasn't going to do this, but... I'll give you guys an excerpt. The only excerpt I'll ever give out until the entire story is done. Seriously. So, this is your lucky day.
The second part of chapter 14 (Note- this is unedited):

 A chorus of music resonated from the lively band of musicians, playing along with the dancing of the half-nude fire throwers and women. Siarya sat with Domonic in the middle of the large ballroom as dancers moved around them, waving shimmery cloths and scarves like imitating flame. The women wore apple red skirts and corsets, impressively twisting themselves in their dance like fireflies in a summer’s wind.

Men and women walked to them, placing gifts and items at their feet. Siarya watched neutrally, not at the slightest bit intrigued by the sumptuous materials around her. She herself wore a bright maroon gown of glittering rubies, with a headdress of transparent cloth and dark sapphires.

Unlike usual attire, Domonic seemed to prefer brighter colors this evening.

Multiple Drovanians chanted inaudible words to the dancers beat, echoing like thunder in the massive room. Siarya, feeling slightly uneasy, placed her hand on top of Domonic’s.

 The back of his hand was warm and soft, yet still rugged to the touch. She looked at him as he glanced her way, surprised by her contact. Stiffly, he grasped her hand and held it loosely, almost carelessly. She smiled at him, however, acting as if she was enjoying his touch; entertained by the dancers with sticks of flame, and overjoyed by his company.

But inside she felt empty.

The bare-skinned women sprinted lightly around them, growing closer. They swayed like trees, touching the back of their necks and stroking their shoulder and arms. Siarya tensed, not used to being touched by entertainers. Their voices were soothing, however; soft and gentle, and reassuring as if they were sirens.

Domonic was smiling. They danced around him, their bare skin gleaming in the firelight. They stayed close to him, touching his face and chest with sounds of amusement and cheer.

One woman gently stroked her hair, and nuzzled Siarya’s temple with her nose, giggling. Siarya suddenly realized that every ball had a purpose: this one in particular, to celebrate arousal. A man’s affection.

She faked a smile and waved the women away, but Domonic did not.

What would my mother tell me to do? Siarya asked herself, puzzled.

She let herself be touched and caressed, her hair stroked and cheeks rubbed gently. They were like enchantresses, seducing others with their song and sweetness. Daring to embrace them was to become drunken and full of their alluring enticement.

Scents wafted through the air of tangy things she’s never smelled before. Goblets were placed around them in a circular pattern, each and one of them carrying flame. Smoke drifted upwards from the flame, carrying the scent of burnt oranges.

Except Drovania does not grow fruit, Siarya remembered. Their lands are harsh and infertile, and a ghostly dark haunted its grounds as if the entire kingdom was really just a cemetery for the living. A hint of pain crept into her mind; she missed Sephoria with all her heart. One last sunset blazing against the shores of her oceans would be as special as holding a piece of Sephoria in her hands. A blade of grass, a petal from a rose. It was all the same, as long as it was home.

But sentimental thoughts did not stir her away from her place as she sat beside her fiancé, holding his hand. Although her attempts to woo him were futile, he seemed to pay little to no attention to her whatsoever. Holding in a sigh of agitation, she watched him silently as the woman flirted carelessly. Sadly, she didn’t seem to mind the fact that he enjoyed the women’s company. In fact, she could hardly care less. Nothing drove her forward, or set her on edge as one would if they truly felt attracted to someone. As she stared at him, she noticed a dark figure standing in the distance, watching.

Moving her eyes away from Domonic, she noticed grimly, his brother. He stood stiffly, his arms crossed, alone at the end of the large hall. She could feel his eyes on her. His piercing eyes, dark as night, and filled with such a hatred she could feel it burn against her like a hot iron. There was something about him that made her feel anxious. He was the essence of danger, like a falcon stalking its prey.

Siarya wondered secretly if others felt it too. He was the only man standing, lean and intimidating, without the dancing females pursuing him. A prince, for that matter. He was alone.

He narrowed his eyes, silently speaking to her suggestively. Are you afraid yet?

So she was to be hunted, now. Stalked by a pair of sorrowful, obsidian eyes. She refused to have fear of him. She was better than him.

Siarya straightened up. Letting go of Domonic’s hand, she let it smoothly run up his arm, onto his shoulder lovingly as if he were truly her romantic interest. He turned his head, finally curious about her fake affection. She let her face soften, and reluctantly looked at his lips. She noticed a scar, like a spike, on his chin.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, but not of amusement. There was something else in his eyes, something Siarya felt she wanted to ignore. But she couldn’t. The glimmer in his eyes was deceitful; wrong in many hidden levels.

He lifted her chin with his forefinger, and she knew it was coming before she could stop it.

 He kissed her. His lips, unfamiliar against hers. Not rough, but hard. His hand held her shoulder, squeezing it softly. The kiss lasted for a few moments until he broke it, and examined her with an unsettling look.

There was no pleasure in his eyes; just greed. A wanting in him that Siarya couldn’t comprehend. It wasn’t for her, or for the women around him. It was a hidden passion, a buried ember.

She looked back into the shadows where his brother had stood, wanting to see the anger in his cold eyes. But he was gone.

So... its obviously not the best excerpt, but I couldn't very well be showing off spoiler scenes, could I? No. This was as spoiler-like as I could muster, and you wont be getting anything else from that. In fact, this story isn't even based off of romance at all. It actually has a lot of hatred in it, lol.
Here's a special quote to finish off the post:

 A certain witch: “Not everyone who wishes you dead is necessarily your enemy, and not everyone who helps you is necessarily your friend. Careful, child; the fire is upon us.”

Oh, and how that witch was right ;)