The Queen
Green surrounded her, the beautifully trimmed hedges as unreachable as the blazing blue sky. But this was okay; the green was the barrier between the world of the palace and the world of her imagination.
The ever ready maid had taken a rest for the time being, and she was free to wander as she pleased. Neither greatly enjoyed the company of the other, so this was a regular practice. Presently, she walked among the hedges of the great maze in her parents' back garden. As a four year old, the fact that she could get lost never registered in her childlike mind, and so she traveled fearlessly. Her thick black hair hung just the way it had been prepared in the morning as there was no wind or breeze to change it. She frowned at the hot weather, almost wishing she was back inside.
Suddenly, the green walls opened up to a clearing. Not a natural clearing of course, since this was not a natural garden. It was one with marble benches, marble walkways, and marble fountains. Screaming with delight, she immediately headed to the center fountain since it was the largest of them all. She sighed as the water cooled her overheated body and decided that she would stay there all day. As she gazed at the different shapes of the clouds, something twitched in her periphery. "Ah!" she screamed when she finally noticed the other person in the fountain. It was a boy, though he was not one she recognized, and although she was young, she could tell he was not a boy that belonged to be inside the palace walls. He looked absolutely horrid, as some would say. Patched clothes blackened with stubborn grime, earthen hair soaked with unyielding grease, tanned face cleansed by fountain water; this was the way in which he had been presented before her youthful gaze.
He seemed to have been sleeping, but was now startled awake by her scream. She stared at him, and he at her. One curious and one frightened, though she could not imagine why. "What's your name?" she asked politely, smiling as she had been taught to smile. He seemed even more startled by her question and instead of answering he asked, "You - you the king's daughter, aren't you? Thas why they calls you princess, right? Princess, princess, um, Viletta?" "Yes,” she answered slowly, still curiously regarding the strange boy, “I'm Princess Violetta.” He glanced around nervously as if the surrounding hedges would suddenly explode onto their innocent figures. He started backing away from her frantically saying, "Don't go telling people you saw me here, Princess. Promise me, promise me you won't tell." She simply stood in the water staring at the dripping boy, for he was dripping, having cleared the edge of the fountain. He now stood before her with large green eyes, pleading eyes, and finally all she could say was, "I promise."
He sighed, and said, "Thank -" "VANESSA!" They both jumped in surprise, but he was the only one that paled with dread. She heard the maid run up to her, and then abruptly pull her out of the fountain, spraying them all with droplets of water. "Marie-" she started, but her fierce maid silenced Vanessa, the aforementioned Princess, with a menacing glance, and said with furious animosity, "You," a word she spat as if obscene, "I will deal with later." Then, turning to the boy whom she had trapped within her iron grip, "you”, she looked at his filthy water-logged state, and said with contempt, “I will deal with now." She tugged at both of them, and they stumbled along after her.
Too soon, they were dragged through the palace doors, both trembling with dread, though he more than she. Once they were through, Marietta motioned to one of the guards. "This one," she said gesturing to the boy, "was caught within the palace walls. Do with him what you will." She pushed him roughly towards the bewildered man, and continued to drag Vanessa towards the stairs. She couldn't help but take one glance back at him.
He stood there in ragged drenched clothes, shivering with terror, though she could still recognize the awe that crossed his face as he took in the extravagance of the glorious Grand Hall. She wanted to go and comfort him, no matter how many rules of etiquette she would break in doing so. But Marietta had seemed to reach her limit today, and she had no desire to tempt her any further. So, regrettably, she followed her up to the stairs, restrained to simple hope.
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He walked in with wide green eyes, carrying nothing but the clothes upon his back. She smiled at his astonished gaze and bounced onto the bed in the corner of the room. "Jason," she greeted happily, "This one is yours."
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"Nessa."
She heard his voice, but she lay still, hoping he would give up. Skipping breakfast seemed like a fair trade to sleeping in.
"Nessa, get up."
This time, she heard him. Surprised, she sat up, and then noticed the other people in the room. She glanced at every face, confused by the tension; the...sorrow. Her breath hitched and quickly she turned to his stone face, searching for an answer that was anything but her own. "Jay?" she asked him, and only him, and only he was able to answer. Looking straight into her eyes, he said with a sadness as deep as her own, "Your parents – they were killed last night."
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Green surrounded her. The garden had always been beautiful to her, but today, it was the set of her worst nightmare.
Her parents were dead.
This was their funeral.
At nine years old, she knew her duty, and she did not cry. She did not break down like the people surrounding her. She had walked silently with the procession, and she now sat silently with the crowd. The priest stood in front of them, preaching to them of her father's benevolence and his devotion to their kingdom.
She did not know him, her father had not known him, yet there he stood, illuminating to them all the greatness of their late king.
She was not mad. She was not happy, she was not sad.
She was a princess.
And now all she had in this world was her eleven year old servant.
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"It wasn't me! I swear to God it wasn't me, I swear to God! Please, please, please, no, it wasn't me..." The woman was dragged onto the stage sobbing and begging and pleading. Vanessa knew this woman was innocent – purer than she herself could ever be. Knew, but did not speak. She did not dare plead for her. She did not dare plead against the Main Court.
It would not do.
Guilt like no other tore through her as she watched the noose wrap around the woman's throat, as the crowd cried for the woman's blood, as the woman herself continued to cry; for her innocence, for her life.
No one listened.
The boards opened up under her, and Nessa watched in silence as the guiltless woman died in infamy.
The crowd screamed with triumph, and some danced with joy. The royals clapped their aristocratic claps, and smiled their small smiles.
Vanessa stared into the woman's blank eyes. They had been brown; such an average color, such an average woman. How did she not know her name? Her face was all she saw, all she knew; a face forever to be recognized as the murderer of the kingdom's King and Queen.
Her servant squeezed her hand, and she closed her eyes, wishing the dead woman before her could do the same.
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"Rise, King Reveric Tomas Soloman of Aeria!" The world applauded his Majesty both in their homes and in the Royal Palace, welcoming the new reign as if her father's had never existed.
The Pope turned to her.
"Princess Violetta Vanessa Vecruze," he started solemnly.
Silence.
"As Princess of Aeria, on this day you shall fulfill the duty of which you were born to fulfill."
"I understand."
"You shall provide and care for King Reveric Tomas Soloman as a dutiful wife and Queen starting today and ending with and only with, the death of King Reveric Thomas Soloman."
"I understand."
"You shall remain faithful to King Reveric Tomas Soloman in both mind and body no matter what temptation the Devil may send."
"I understand."
"You shall obey King Reveric Tomas Soloman no matter what his command may be."
"I understand."
"You shall follow King Reveric Tomas Soloman no matter where his path may lead."
"I understand."
He hesitated before stating the next line, and then she heard his unwilling voice.
"Do you swear upon pain of death to follow that which you have understood?"
She closed her eyes against her binding words, but continued without hesitation.
"I swear."
"Has King Reveric Tomas Soloman borne witness to this maiden's oath?"
Has King Reveric Tomas Soloman borne witness to this maiden's sentence?
"I have."
"Then, Princess Violetta Vanessa Vecruze, at t-ten years of age," he paused, and then continued, "I hereby drop both your title of Princess and your name of Vecruze, and, now, on the 453rd day of the 3406th year, crown you Queen to Aeria, and wife to King Reveric Tomas Soloman."
She felt the Pope's trembling hands gently lay the silver circlet upon her midnight dark hair.
"Have the people borne witness?"
Millions of men, women, and children chanted throughout the world.
"We have borne witness."
She heard the Pope inhale unsteadily, and she found herself doing the same.
"Then, Rise, Queen Violetta Vanessa Soloman of Aeria!"
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Her intricately woven dress, fit for a queen, spread across the floor, where it had been viciously thrown. Vanessa lay upon her bed in a simple shift, having her hair gently stroked by Jason as sobs shuddered through her body. Her mother's silver crown lay on the dresser, silently watching, and winking with the sun.
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The moonlight shone down upon the palace grounds, blackening the darkness in which Vanessa found herself. Her back lay against the cold unyielding walls, her legs stretched out under the impregnable shade of night, her eyes unfocused in the creeping shadows of the moon. She brought the nearly empty bottle of alcohol to her lips, and, without hesitation, finished off its vile contents. Upon finding it drained, Vanessa flung it into the shadows, and blindly sought for one of the many others that surrounded her. When reaching too far, she slid sideways onto the frozen winter floor. Both empty and filled bottles clanked loudly together in the night's stillness, but she simply lay upon the ground, murmuring unintelligibly; oblivious to all else but her mind. She finally grasped an unopened bottle, and, after struggling to uncork it, immediately started to consume the contents as an infant would their bottles of milk.
Almost instantly Vanessa felt it ripped away from her, and she sputtered at the suddenness, shocked into momentary sobriety. “Nessa,” she heard his voice say from above. “Jay?” she called out questioningly. His face swam into view as he leaned towards her, disapproval etched into every line. But neither his frown nor furrowed brows touched her; her eyes merely lit with happiness in the euphoria of his presence, and she sighed contentment with his name, “Jay, you found me.” She almost heard his inward sigh of exasperation through her haze, but all he said as he struggled her up to her feet was, “Yes, Nessie,” he wrapped her arm across his shoulders, “I found you.”
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Her hair piled upon her head in delicate curls, a crown of silver upon it, and her deep blue eyes harmonized with the silk cloth that flowed about her. The traditional song dedicated to one's day of birth filled the ballroom as she and her servant slowly descended into the pack of royals. Their polite claps surrounded her as both the music and she reached the end. With detached sincerity, Vanessa smiled at her husband's subjects until the music started to flow once more, and she, as well as all others, turned towards the top of the staircase. There the King stood, with his great gold crown shining along with his sordid glory; the bejeweled thing sitting upon a head of hair as black and unctuous as his attire. The crowd applauded at his appearance, love and adoration clear upon their faces. They continued to applaud as he descended down upon them, and Vanessa kept her face a mask of aristocratic indifference. She left her servant's side as the King arrived at last to the ballroom floor, and joined him, feeling fatigued as she did so. He bestowed upon her a condescending smile, to which she did not respond, and then turned to the crowd.
“My dearest friends, I thank you all for coming here today. Indeed, this day we celebrate the sixteenth year of our beloved Queen Soloman.” At this the royals cheered, and Vanessa nodded in way of thanks. “In addition, I bid you all to enjoy yourselves in remembrance of this being the anniversary of my sixth year as King of Aeria, and of Vanessa's sixth year as my wife.” He placed a hand on her shoulder; she tried not to flinch. There was further applause and cheer, and Vanessa flashed back to bitter remembrance the sad solemnity of her coronation. To her side, she saw her servant flinch for her. “So eat, drink, dance, and laugh to all your hearts’ content! For if there is a frown in Aeria; it does not exist within these walls.”
The crowd applauded at the end of the King’s speech and dispersed amongst themselves, though many approached them to make known their congratulations. She smiled and nodded, with the King by her side and her servant at her shadow. His Majesty's claw of a hand continued to grip her bared shoulder as they moved through the crowd, making her feel trapped among the press of bodies.
Then, the music started, and the middle of the floor cleared. Sliding his hand down to hers, he led her, to great applause, to the center of the open space. She was sure it was a lively tune, but she could not think past gritting her teeth against his mockery. “Your behavior has me deeply impressed I assure you, Vanessa,” he spoke into her ear once the dance floor was sufficiently crowded. “Violetta,” she said, unsuccessfully trying to unclench her jaw. He laughed as he turned her, and then said, “I believe six years is adequate enough time for us to drop the formalities, is it not?” She struggled not to scoff, “It is not. You are nothing to me.”
He smirked. “Oh? But we are husband and wife, King and Queen. You are sworn to me.” “We have gone over this hundreds of times. My response has not changed,” she responded sharply. They fell silent as a couple danced past them, and the King and Queen smiled in response to their slight bow of heads. Once they had passed, she continued in a hiss, “I may be sworn to you, but you do not own me. I am not a slave sent for the use of your every whim.”
She stiffened as he pulled her to him and said quietly, “Are you not?” He ran the back of his hand across her cheek and said, “You are an angel; nay! With beauty such as yours, you are a goddess. And, my dear Vanessa, I, King Soloman, am the charmed soul that has laid claim over your wonder instead of the heavens.” At this she could not suppress her derision. Leaning back, Vanessa said with great scorn, “Did you actually believe that you could woo me into acquiescence? I am baffled as to how one could even arrive at such a conclusion. If so, then I must enlighten to you that I am the Queen, not some lowly wench; I do not fall for hollow words spitted from a forked tongue.” Vanessa could see the King’s face start to redden in anger and embarrassment, but she did not yield an inch. As he opened his mouth in absolute fury with some new retort or punishment, a noble came asking for a chance to dance with the Queen. Without a choice, Soloman assented, promising her with a glare future retribution. But for that moment, Vanessa silently thanked whatever higher Power that had intervened on her behalf as she watched the King stalk off into the crowd.
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They came upon their floor, and with a sigh of relief, Vanessa threw her crown onto the ground, and herself onto the couch. Jason snorted, and placed the silver circlet on the table. He approached the side of the couch where her feet dangled over the armrest, and she felt him encircle her ankles with his hands. “Eighteen years old and you still can’t take off your own shoes? Or are you just that drunk?” he said while sliding the slippers off her aching feet; she did not have to look to know he was smirking.
She could not help the corner of her mouth that twitched with amusement, and propping herself up on her elbows, she said contemptuously, “Well, you are my servant. Why must I overexert myself when I have you to do it for me?”
“Really? Well then I should just walk out,” he said challengingly, pulling her towards him by her legs, “teach you some manners.” “Manners?” Vanessa replied lightly, trying to ignore the sudden shot of electricity up her legs. “Nessa?” he said questioningly, his eyes searching hers, suddenly serious. She silently cursed herself - he had heard the strain in her voice. “What?” she said defiantly. She saw his forehead wrinkle in confusion, and she immediately knew she had said the wrong thing. “I mean -” He cut across her, “What’s wrong?” She tugged her feet away from him, and he let her go. She stood up. “Nothing,” she said forcefully, and even managed a painful smile. He gave her his look, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She dropped her smile. "I'm not,” she snapped, glad to mask her secret with anger. Jay was more irritated than angry, she could tell. “Well, I hate to say this, but I am your sworn protector. You know if anything happens to you that your husband’s going to chop my head off.” With a certain triumph, she felt herself only getting angrier. “You of all people should know never to call him my husband. He is nothing to me, yet you always name him so," she said, her voice gradually growing louder. She had originally sought to steer the conversation away from her secret, but this subject was one that had continually festered in her mind and before she could stop herself, she blew up. "Why?!" she screamed, "In conversation, in jest, it is always there! Why must you always remind me?! You of all people! He beats me, he isolates me, he humiliates me, he has almost killed me! He does not love me and I certainly do not love him, therefore he is NOT my husband! So why does that word perpetually rise from your lips?! How?! How does it not burn your tongue on the way out?!" His hands closed into fists, distancing him from her. "I know you don't love him, but that doesn't matter. He's still your husband and it's my job to remind you of that." A flare of intense fury flamed inside of her and she slapped him. As steadily as she could, she said, "You said your job was to protect me." If he wasn't angry before, he definately was now. "Stop this!" he yelled, grabbing her hand as if she were going to strike him again. "How long are you going to ignore your situation! You're married! Yes," he said quickly, feeling her start to protest, "I know he's a despicable being, but that doesn't change the fact that he. is. your. HUSBAND! And you know what? He's the KING too!" She ripped her hand out of his. "I DON'T LOVE HIM!" she screamed, beside herself. "What the hell does - !" he started, looking exasperated, frustrated, furious, but then she smothered the rest of his words in a fierce kiss. She pulled away from him, but he too had lost his restraint. Jason immediately brought their lips back together, knotting his hands in her hair as she arched into him, willing even the air between them to disappear. They existed in a vacuum. Forever and ever, this eternity was surely heaven. However, they, as humans, required air, and so the two eventually resurfaced from their momentary insanity. They looked at each other, both breathing rather heavily. Vanessa noticed they had somehow ended up on her bed. She ran her fingers through his shaggy brown locks, saying, "I take it you love me too." He groaned, gently brushing off her hand and sitting up. "Of course I love you, Nessie," he said, tugging her mouth up into a smile, "You know how long I've been trying to hide that from you? And now it turns out you love me too." His head fell into his hands, despair radiating off of him. Still euphoric from his confession, but a little stymied by the tone with which he delivered it, Vanessa replied, "Love is not a miserable thing, Jay, so stop acting like it is." He looked back up at her, his gaze tormented, sending an echoing pain of worry through her. "Nessie, you're married to the king." Her brief, yet glorious taste of heaven immediately imploded at his words, sending her crashing back to the hell of reality. "Yes," she replied quietly, incapable of any response even remotely adequate for the situation. Do you swear upon pain of death to follow that which you have understood?....I swear. Pain of death.... "I will not live in fear of death," Vanessa said suddenly, breaking the silence that had begun to blanket them while they were absorbed in their own thoughts. Jason simply stared at her abrupt statement, his eyes pained. Nevertheless, she elaborated, "I never hid my love from you because I feared Soloman. I feared you. I feared your pity and your pain....but never death." He remained silent, although his eyes had now closed. She continued, "What is the point of living decades in life, when those years are empty, each second bringing nothing but pain and sorrow? Just as the black of night must always come to end day's reign, death too awaits every soul born on this planet. To spend my days in constant fear of that inevitable darkness is foolish and painfully wasteful, and so I will not." He opened his eyes. She awaited his speech, and to her sorrow, it came. "But you have a duty to Aeria. You're our queen." "'With stability in the palace, serenity flows from all world affairs,'" Vanessa said to him, reminding him of the old saying, "And I cannot have stability without you." His eyes pierced her. "I'm still here." She refused to look away. "Not all you can be," she answered, "For me you have been a father, a brother, and the best of friends, but I have yet to see you as a...husband." His eyes flashed at the word, understanding its significance, but still he replied, "You already have a husband." She countered firmly, "Only in name." He sighed in frustration, but took her hand, seeming unable to help himself. "Don't you understand that even though you don't fear your death, I do? You're only eighteen, Nessa! There's so much you can offer the world as its queen and so much that it can give back to you. If I allow myself to love you, I'm placing in your hands a blade that will prick a thousand drops of blood before it finally turns around and kills you. How could I do that? How could I let that thing anywhere near your heart?" She could not help but smile - he had unwittingly given her that sword years ago. To tear the sunken blade out of her chest now would be to kill her. "You are wrong, Jay," Vanessa ended up saying, "The blade itself will not kill me. It will be I who wields it, who controls it, and it will be I who decides when, where, and how my life ends, not it. If you are the one to place the blade in my hands then you give me control and power over my own fate, for which I will not only be grateful, but also happy and free. You were also wrong about the droplets of blood. Any blade you give me will shed minute fragments of the soul, not vulgar blood. One by one, I know, they will leave me and flow into you." A small smile had formed on his face, and she traced it lovingly. Finally, she asked, "Will you help set me free, Jay?" He gazed at her longingly, squeezing their intertwined fingers. "Will you promise me you'll be safe?" he eventually asked. "No," she answered truthfully, "That is an impossible and impractical promise. However, I will promise that I will try my best to be." He was silent for several moments. Then, he glanced down at their hands. "Okay," he said finally, "okay."
"I love you," she said.
He smiled and answered, "Never knew those words could be so beautiful." "I am immensely sorry to have deprived you of such consummate beauty for so long," she replied, biting her lip at her light sarcasm. Vanessa could almost feel her soul finish melding with his. Embracing her in his arms, he laughed.
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“VIOLETTA!” She froze in the act of placing the dining table. She and Jason looked up at the other; neither able to move. “VIOLETTA!” They paled with dread at the unmistakable sound of fear itself – the hunting cry of the King. At its sound, they were spurred to action, and both quickly gathered the knives and forks. She handed Jason hers and hurriedly said, “Go. You can take care of me later.” "Nessa-" "No," she said, shaking her head. Looking into his worried face, she repeated fiercely, "Go." They stared at each other in a second of heated silence, until Jason wordlessly surrendered, closing his eyes against the pain of acceptance. He squeezed her hand fiercely, risking a light kiss, and then left through the servants' door. Not a second later, the King burst into the hall with the rage of a rampaging bull; anger pulsing violently out of his entire frame – down from his quivering hands, up to his bloodshot eyes. Upon seeing her, he charged with a fury that made her tremble, and, before she could do anything but widen her eyes, he seized her and threw her onto the ground. Pain cracked through her skull, momentarily blinding, and then throughout her entire body as his polished boot brutally and mercilessly beat her. Crying out, she rolled away from his ferocity, and kicked a chair at him. She grabbed onto the table, and struggled to right herself in the split second it took for him to push the dining chair out of his way. Realizing her efforts as futile, she dropped onto the floor, and attempted to crawl under the table and to the other side. She screamed as he caught her left foot, and desperately grabbed at the marble floor as he dragged her towards him. Looking up at his maddened face, she cried, “I have done nothing! I swear to God I have done nothing!” His face twisted into a mixture of anger and savage humor, and then, laughing his cruel laugh, he pulled her up to him so that she could smell his clean breath. “Do not fret, my child,” he hissed, a sound of acid seeping through one's veins, “I know you have done nothing.” With a roar he threw her back onto the ground so that she landed yards away. He walked slowly over to her, with steps of precision, taking off his belt so that it lay as a weapon in his hands. Rage once again filled his features and before she could utter a single word, he screamed, “YOU HAVE DONE ABSOLUTELY” pain, “POSITIVELY,” pain, “NOTHING!” pain, agonizing pain....
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“'....many years. Sometimes I wonder if they love each other at all.' 'Preposterous! That's our King and Queen you're talking about there.' 'Exactly what I am getting at, dear. How can we have a stable world without a stable Royalty?' 'But we do, so there is nothing to worry about, Scarlett.' 'Do we really? As I said before, they do not have a child.' 'Perhaps she is barren.' 'Then he would have had her executed years before.' 'Scarlett!' 'It is the truth. Do not give me that look, Viola. Would Freddie have kept you without that little monster upon your lap?' 'All the same, best not to talk of such things.' 'But does that not make you wonder? Come now, they do not attend more than five social events a year! Surely that indicates an uncertain marriage?' 'Only gossips such as you notice these things.' 'I am going to ignore that, Viola, as I am in such a good mood.' 'Oh? And what has warranted such a mood?' 'Well, if you must know, I went down to the market just now and....'”
“'....wha? Twen'y yeas oldah than tha' lil gal?' 'She ain't lil no more, no sirree. An' nah, Goge, he jus' ten yeas.' 'Jus'?! No wondah der no love in dat palace o' ders. 's like livun 'lone foh eva, poh gal.' 'Why Goge, you turnin' intuh a gal, talkin' 'bout lurv an' all dat nunsense....'”
“Bickering all the time, that's what I heard....tsk, not the way a married couple, nonetheless a royal couple, should act....”
“....gonna fall apart, and then where'll we be?”
“Is this not her seventeenth year? For God's sake, I'll have a child with him if she herself is too much of a child to do so....”
“.... they are most definitely a disgrace....”
“They're evil the lot of them....don't even try for the sake of their world....”
“You're not making this any easier. Just calm down.” Vanessa took a deep breath, and said through gritted teeth, “Just turn it off, Jason.” The room ceased to fill with the voices of the commoners, and she relaxed infinitesimally, but still shook with anger. She lay face down upon a table while Jason tended to her wounds, namely the ones made by King Soloman's demon weapon. They were stationed on their floor in the extra bedroom that led off of Jason’s dressing room. It served as their infirmary, and it was stocked with medicine they periodically stole from the palace's medical sector. She heard him sigh, but he continued to work in silence on her bruised and bloodied form; it ached a hundred times more than when she had lost consciousness, but felt better than when she had revived. She spoke out against his silence, her voice trembling slightly with anger and pain, “He wants me to bear him a child.” She felt him pause, but ignored it and said, “He beat me today because I haven't – I wouldn't –“ Red tinged her vision. “Nessa - “ “And my people despise me for it!” she burst out, and then groaned as her body protested against her sudden movement. Abandoning his work, he went around the table, and crouched down so that she could see his light green eyes pierce her own, “'Despise' is a strong word, and I would hardly use it to describe the way your people feel about you.” She sighed and, with a last look at his calm unrelenting eyes, closed her own with tiredness. His presence having slightly dissipated her anger, she slipped back into peaceful blackness.
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The bathroom door slammed into place, and not a second after she had locked it, the violent pounding of his Highness's fury exploded onto the slim barrier of her painfully transient haven. She simply stood there, gasping for breath through the terror that constricted her chest. Wildly, she looked around the four walls of her large but confined bathroom for any means of escape, and choked with increasing panic as she found none. “OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!” he screamed, pounding relentlessly against her last defense. She herself screamed in frightened frustration, her whole body tingling with foreboding. “Please, God, please, help me, I can’t, please, I CAN”T!” she shrieked, sobbing with hopelessness. She fell to the floor as a helpless's fatigue washed through her, pleading with her arms wrapped around her in a weak semblance of safety.
A crack appeared in the door, and a moment later the King burst forth with a savage yell of triumph, followed by her wild shrieks of terror. She crawled away from him with revived adrenaline, blind terror casting out every thought but to get away. “Come here, you damned girl!” he shouted, grabbing her legs and dragging her towards hell. He snarled as she tried to kick him, but contorted his face into a sadist's pleasure as he grabbed her flailing foot and twisted her ankle with a sharp crack. She screamed with pain, and seizing his chance, he ripped and clawed at her already torn dress, tearing at the mangled cloth. She cried out with violent desperation, struggling to wrest herself away from him, but she was falling, drowning, diminishing into nothing...
In a moment of agonizing eternity, he was ripped off of her, and she gasped breaths of life. “Nessa!” Shocked relief poured through her at the sound of his voice, and she sat up with unbelieving eyes. He seemed to be an angel in her haze of fear, and she almost laughed with the giddiness of release. “Jason!” she cried with initial euphoria, but, at his appearance, almost immediately the dread of reality returned, “Oh God. Oh God, Jay, no you –” She looked around, and saw his Majesty on the floor nearby, unmoving. Her breath hitched as she stared up into Jason's grim face, and said with the whisper of fear, “No.”
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“Even if some miracle had allowed you to produce that bastard of yours without breaking your vows, that thing is not mine. Now, I have shown you mercy-” “Mercy?! Do not attempt to fool me. We both know that Jason and I are the ones with royalty in our veins. You lose the crown to him the second I die.” “Unless he dies.” “My son is innocent. Killing him is the path of liars and cowards.” “Is it? I see it as a path to victory.” “Your first murder might have been overlooked by my people, but the killing of a child will not be so easily forgiven. Do not let this right the skewed vision the kingdom has of you.” “In just a few days that vision will not matter because I will not be King. I am not blinded of your hatred for me. Your first act as true Queen will be to drag me off the throne.” “So you would kill my heir? That will change nothing.” “Not true, Violetta, it will devastate you. That bastard is the only thing you care to keep alive, and your sole connection to your late love. Without him, you have nothing for you in this world; no one who cares whether you live or die and no one whom you care lives or dies. You would protect him with your life and more. Do you deny this?” “If I did?” “Then these past four years will have been a waste. I have no love for the boy. King or not, I will make sure he dies.” “And if I did not?” “Then you have another future you can choose. In it, I remain the King of Aeria and, as my wife, you will give me a proper heir. And the boy will live.” “I will never bear your child.” “Then the bastard dies.” “And you will have no throne.” “I will remain a noble of Darin. You will lose your firstborn to stubbornness and spite. He looks a lot like his father. Tell me, if I kill your bastard, would you feel as if he were dying again?” “I-I don’t-” Her armor was cracking, and judging by his malicious smile he knew it. “If you agree to my conditions then you sleep in my bedroom starting this night on. If not, Jason dies tonight.” She sat there for what felt like an eternity, but did not move one inch. He never lost that malicious smile. Slowly, she stood up. “There is a third option, my Lord,” she said stiffly, her hands damp with sweat, “I’m surprised you didn’t think of it yourself.” Her heart raced as he furrowed his overhanging brows, “What-?” Quick as a viper, she jumped on him, covering his mouth with her left hand and with the other, sinking a simple table knife deep into his heart.
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Vanessa once again walked down those broad, blood-red steps, this time dressed in a shining silver gown. This royal apparel matched the thin circlet placed upon her dark, sleek hair, which flowed down her shoulders. She walked alone. And when Vanessa reached the end of those never-ending steps, she remained alone. She smiled to the whispering crowd confidently and mournfully communicated his majesty was not feeling well. No one had seen him for a few days, she said, she herself had not been allowed into his room. They had heard of his illness; they did not question her. The people walked up to her during the party, always offering her consolations, always determined he will make a full recovery. Thinking only of her son upstairs, she thanked them for their sympathy. Soon they will know…but then she will rule over them all.
----------
Gray surrounded her. The verdant leaves had died along with their master in this sorrowful winter, almost angering the Queen for their thoughtfulness. But of course, they were inanimate objects. Vanessa thought upon this as she sat listening to the same priest drone on about her late husband. His speech was irritatingly similar, if not identical, to the one he delivered for her father. They were both kings, she thought furiously, but not both men.
There had been no funeral for Jason. Only a rope around his throat and the silent goodbyes she hoped he received as she sat imprisoned in her room. His son, however, sat to her left, dressed insultingly in black. The color was prudent, but that did not make her despise it any less. She grabbed his small hand. He did not cry for either of his fathers, indeed he was not born to see his first die, but she was glad he was now too small to understand that his second had also been murdered. A wry smile threatened to cross her stern features, but she fought it down before it could betray her.
She had been the one to “find” her Lord dead in his bed, a dark, crusted wound covering his black heart. She thought then that they would see clear through her façade as she shouted through the palace that her hated husband had been killed. But no one did. Her hands, her voice, her body, they all shook with fear, but everyone mistook it for sorrow. Not one suspected her…but the walls, the trees, the heavens, even sleep knew. They battered against her conscience, viciously hissing that she could have run away, that she could have hidden Jason, that she could have slept with the King, that she could have pretended for those four days and then dethroned him. She didn’t though…she didn’t. She was a murderer, no better than those that killed her mother and father. No better than the King himself. For nights she stared at the still bloodied knife she had used to reach his hardened heart, willing her hand to take it and end her own life….and see Jay again…but then they would know. Jason would know. She would not be there to make him understand, she would not be there to protect him….and so she lived. The knife, however, was still stained, was still hidden in her bedside drawer, and the temptation to join the man that she had loved, still loved, still lingered in her mind.
The King’s funeral ended, and a stray tear escaped her troubled eyes. The sobbing royals might have mistaken the thing for despair over her late husband, but so much the better.
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Queen Violetta, no one dared to breathe the name Soloman anymore, sat upon her ice-blue throne, her only company the thin golden snakes spiking through the walls. She herself was inlaid with gold, which shimmered through her standard black outfit: a smooth throat-clenching one-piece that stretched from her wrists to her ankles - the upper half covered with a slim yet bulletproof vest. Hanging off this odd apparel were daggers, knives, guns, and a thin and deadly sword. At the moment, Violetta was idly wiping vivid scarlet drops from her beloved weapon, its winking gleam mimicking her silver crown. A tear dropped and disappeared onto the stained metal, but her countenance betrayed nothing.
Suddenly, the silent double doors groaned open and she looked up at once, slipping her sword into its sheath. A lone figure walked up the scarlet carpet, the doors booming shut behind him. She regarded the boy coldly. “Yes?” she said, not bothering to even put up a façade of warmth. “Mother,” said Jason just as icily, “The rebellion in Jinn has succeeded in overthrowing your appointed puppet. They are expected to win over the entire city in a matter of days.”
Violetta sighed her frustration in silence, her face showing not even a flicker of life. Before her pause could be labelled as hesitation, she said, “Send General Morris and his army as backup for the soldiers in Jinn…then contact S-Five and see what security they’ve placed around the capital; see if we cannot dispatch a force in there while they are preoccupied with our reinforcements. Afterwards, find out both the most obvious place to strike at the capital and the least. All discreetly, of course.” Nodding his head to indicate that he had received and will execute her orders, her son left without another word. Staring blankly at the intricately carved doors, she felt nothing.
Quietly, she unsheathed her perpetually bloody sword, and set again to cleaning it. Although teardrops could be seen to soak abruptly into the tarnished metal every few minutes, not one ever graced itself upon her face.
--------
“Nessa.” She had turned towards the sound of her name, breaking her gaze from the glowing pink horizon. Jason walked towards her, his smile infinitely more beautiful than the image her eyes had just left. “Yes?” she said to him, content. He stood next to her, joining her serene vigil of the daybreak, and had asked, “Do you ever wonder why the sun rises?”
“Hmm?” she said.
“Why does it always rise again and again once night falls?” he clarified, “Shouldn't the moon be enough for light?” He had been smiling. Taking his hand, she answered, “We cannot feel the moon. Humans must feel.”
They had intertwined their fingers.
“But the sun’s fire is reckless,” he countered, “And after a while, you can feel the moon too. Its light is pure and true, but at the same time it can hide our secrets in the abundant darkness.”
“There is always darkness with light,” she answered calmly; “It is the same with the sun. However, the brightness of the sun embraces our shallower secrets, accepting both them and their owner. Anyway, life cannot exist with perpetual purity.”
The beauty of sunrise was then fading, slowly giving way to day’s standard blue and yellow. Before it could completely disappear, however, she had asked him, “Am I the sun or the moon, Jay?”
He had gently unlocked their hands. He did not give her an immediate answer, and she did not expect him to. They had turned their backs on the now common horizon, him allowing her to walk in front. They traveled in silence for several steps, but eventually his hand softly brushed over hers. From behind her, she had heard him say, “You’re superior to them both.”
---------
Vanessa gasped awake in the same room she had once shared with her long-dead servant. As the present surrounded her, a fierce and unrelenting pain tore through her body, centering itself on her shredded heart. With tears that seemed to consist of acid blood, she clutched at the silken blanket; near to believing that Jason’s scent still clung to them as she still did to his love.
Upon realizing that there was no scent - none but her own - Vanessa screamed. A wild, wailing, torn scream uttered through dead lips and directed towards dead ghosts. Immediately, she ripped open her bedside drawer and pulled out the old, tarnished knife infused with ancient blood. It hovered over her heart as it had done so many times before, but before it could impel its master, the moment had passed.
Vanessa flung it from her, despising her will to live a crippled and sinful life. However, she could never bring herself to end it.
In facing death, she had been forced to realize that she had lied for all those years: she feared that unknown darkness. She feared it. She feared it mortally. Vanessa could still feel her heart - beaten and bloodied but still alive - pumping life through her; hyper-aware of the fact that it had just been seconds yet an eternity away from death. “Jay,” she whispered, “I am so sorry. I lied. I did not know. I did not know.”
The blood-water still stained her cheeks. Taking a rattling breath, Vanessa allowed them temporary shelter while she painfully removed herself from her laden bed. The one traditionally designated to a close servant still sat in the corner of her wide room, but it sat empty. A half-glance was all she spared towards this darkened corner before striding determinedly towards her shower, her toothbrush; her cool routine. The blood stayed.
The ever ready maid had taken a rest for the time being, and she was free to wander as she pleased. Neither greatly enjoyed the company of the other, so this was a regular practice. Presently, she walked among the hedges of the great maze in her parents' back garden. As a four year old, the fact that she could get lost never registered in her childlike mind, and so she traveled fearlessly. Her thick black hair hung just the way it had been prepared in the morning as there was no wind or breeze to change it. She frowned at the hot weather, almost wishing she was back inside.
Suddenly, the green walls opened up to a clearing. Not a natural clearing of course, since this was not a natural garden. It was one with marble benches, marble walkways, and marble fountains. Screaming with delight, she immediately headed to the center fountain since it was the largest of them all. She sighed as the water cooled her overheated body and decided that she would stay there all day. As she gazed at the different shapes of the clouds, something twitched in her periphery. "Ah!" she screamed when she finally noticed the other person in the fountain. It was a boy, though he was not one she recognized, and although she was young, she could tell he was not a boy that belonged to be inside the palace walls. He looked absolutely horrid, as some would say. Patched clothes blackened with stubborn grime, earthen hair soaked with unyielding grease, tanned face cleansed by fountain water; this was the way in which he had been presented before her youthful gaze.
He seemed to have been sleeping, but was now startled awake by her scream. She stared at him, and he at her. One curious and one frightened, though she could not imagine why. "What's your name?" she asked politely, smiling as she had been taught to smile. He seemed even more startled by her question and instead of answering he asked, "You - you the king's daughter, aren't you? Thas why they calls you princess, right? Princess, princess, um, Viletta?" "Yes,” she answered slowly, still curiously regarding the strange boy, “I'm Princess Violetta.” He glanced around nervously as if the surrounding hedges would suddenly explode onto their innocent figures. He started backing away from her frantically saying, "Don't go telling people you saw me here, Princess. Promise me, promise me you won't tell." She simply stood in the water staring at the dripping boy, for he was dripping, having cleared the edge of the fountain. He now stood before her with large green eyes, pleading eyes, and finally all she could say was, "I promise."
He sighed, and said, "Thank -" "VANESSA!" They both jumped in surprise, but he was the only one that paled with dread. She heard the maid run up to her, and then abruptly pull her out of the fountain, spraying them all with droplets of water. "Marie-" she started, but her fierce maid silenced Vanessa, the aforementioned Princess, with a menacing glance, and said with furious animosity, "You," a word she spat as if obscene, "I will deal with later." Then, turning to the boy whom she had trapped within her iron grip, "you”, she looked at his filthy water-logged state, and said with contempt, “I will deal with now." She tugged at both of them, and they stumbled along after her.
Too soon, they were dragged through the palace doors, both trembling with dread, though he more than she. Once they were through, Marietta motioned to one of the guards. "This one," she said gesturing to the boy, "was caught within the palace walls. Do with him what you will." She pushed him roughly towards the bewildered man, and continued to drag Vanessa towards the stairs. She couldn't help but take one glance back at him.
He stood there in ragged drenched clothes, shivering with terror, though she could still recognize the awe that crossed his face as he took in the extravagance of the glorious Grand Hall. She wanted to go and comfort him, no matter how many rules of etiquette she would break in doing so. But Marietta had seemed to reach her limit today, and she had no desire to tempt her any further. So, regrettably, she followed her up to the stairs, restrained to simple hope.
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He walked in with wide green eyes, carrying nothing but the clothes upon his back. She smiled at his astonished gaze and bounced onto the bed in the corner of the room. "Jason," she greeted happily, "This one is yours."
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"Nessa."
She heard his voice, but she lay still, hoping he would give up. Skipping breakfast seemed like a fair trade to sleeping in.
"Nessa, get up."
This time, she heard him. Surprised, she sat up, and then noticed the other people in the room. She glanced at every face, confused by the tension; the...sorrow. Her breath hitched and quickly she turned to his stone face, searching for an answer that was anything but her own. "Jay?" she asked him, and only him, and only he was able to answer. Looking straight into her eyes, he said with a sadness as deep as her own, "Your parents – they were killed last night."
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Green surrounded her. The garden had always been beautiful to her, but today, it was the set of her worst nightmare.
Her parents were dead.
This was their funeral.
At nine years old, she knew her duty, and she did not cry. She did not break down like the people surrounding her. She had walked silently with the procession, and she now sat silently with the crowd. The priest stood in front of them, preaching to them of her father's benevolence and his devotion to their kingdom.
She did not know him, her father had not known him, yet there he stood, illuminating to them all the greatness of their late king.
She was not mad. She was not happy, she was not sad.
She was a princess.
And now all she had in this world was her eleven year old servant.
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"It wasn't me! I swear to God it wasn't me, I swear to God! Please, please, please, no, it wasn't me..." The woman was dragged onto the stage sobbing and begging and pleading. Vanessa knew this woman was innocent – purer than she herself could ever be. Knew, but did not speak. She did not dare plead for her. She did not dare plead against the Main Court.
It would not do.
Guilt like no other tore through her as she watched the noose wrap around the woman's throat, as the crowd cried for the woman's blood, as the woman herself continued to cry; for her innocence, for her life.
No one listened.
The boards opened up under her, and Nessa watched in silence as the guiltless woman died in infamy.
The crowd screamed with triumph, and some danced with joy. The royals clapped their aristocratic claps, and smiled their small smiles.
Vanessa stared into the woman's blank eyes. They had been brown; such an average color, such an average woman. How did she not know her name? Her face was all she saw, all she knew; a face forever to be recognized as the murderer of the kingdom's King and Queen.
Her servant squeezed her hand, and she closed her eyes, wishing the dead woman before her could do the same.
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"Rise, King Reveric Tomas Soloman of Aeria!" The world applauded his Majesty both in their homes and in the Royal Palace, welcoming the new reign as if her father's had never existed.
The Pope turned to her.
"Princess Violetta Vanessa Vecruze," he started solemnly.
Silence.
"As Princess of Aeria, on this day you shall fulfill the duty of which you were born to fulfill."
"I understand."
"You shall provide and care for King Reveric Tomas Soloman as a dutiful wife and Queen starting today and ending with and only with, the death of King Reveric Thomas Soloman."
"I understand."
"You shall remain faithful to King Reveric Tomas Soloman in both mind and body no matter what temptation the Devil may send."
"I understand."
"You shall obey King Reveric Tomas Soloman no matter what his command may be."
"I understand."
"You shall follow King Reveric Tomas Soloman no matter where his path may lead."
"I understand."
He hesitated before stating the next line, and then she heard his unwilling voice.
"Do you swear upon pain of death to follow that which you have understood?"
She closed her eyes against her binding words, but continued without hesitation.
"I swear."
"Has King Reveric Tomas Soloman borne witness to this maiden's oath?"
Has King Reveric Tomas Soloman borne witness to this maiden's sentence?
"I have."
"Then, Princess Violetta Vanessa Vecruze, at t-ten years of age," he paused, and then continued, "I hereby drop both your title of Princess and your name of Vecruze, and, now, on the 453rd day of the 3406th year, crown you Queen to Aeria, and wife to King Reveric Tomas Soloman."
She felt the Pope's trembling hands gently lay the silver circlet upon her midnight dark hair.
"Have the people borne witness?"
Millions of men, women, and children chanted throughout the world.
"We have borne witness."
She heard the Pope inhale unsteadily, and she found herself doing the same.
"Then, Rise, Queen Violetta Vanessa Soloman of Aeria!"
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Her intricately woven dress, fit for a queen, spread across the floor, where it had been viciously thrown. Vanessa lay upon her bed in a simple shift, having her hair gently stroked by Jason as sobs shuddered through her body. Her mother's silver crown lay on the dresser, silently watching, and winking with the sun.
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The moonlight shone down upon the palace grounds, blackening the darkness in which Vanessa found herself. Her back lay against the cold unyielding walls, her legs stretched out under the impregnable shade of night, her eyes unfocused in the creeping shadows of the moon. She brought the nearly empty bottle of alcohol to her lips, and, without hesitation, finished off its vile contents. Upon finding it drained, Vanessa flung it into the shadows, and blindly sought for one of the many others that surrounded her. When reaching too far, she slid sideways onto the frozen winter floor. Both empty and filled bottles clanked loudly together in the night's stillness, but she simply lay upon the ground, murmuring unintelligibly; oblivious to all else but her mind. She finally grasped an unopened bottle, and, after struggling to uncork it, immediately started to consume the contents as an infant would their bottles of milk.
Almost instantly Vanessa felt it ripped away from her, and she sputtered at the suddenness, shocked into momentary sobriety. “Nessa,” she heard his voice say from above. “Jay?” she called out questioningly. His face swam into view as he leaned towards her, disapproval etched into every line. But neither his frown nor furrowed brows touched her; her eyes merely lit with happiness in the euphoria of his presence, and she sighed contentment with his name, “Jay, you found me.” She almost heard his inward sigh of exasperation through her haze, but all he said as he struggled her up to her feet was, “Yes, Nessie,” he wrapped her arm across his shoulders, “I found you.”
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Her hair piled upon her head in delicate curls, a crown of silver upon it, and her deep blue eyes harmonized with the silk cloth that flowed about her. The traditional song dedicated to one's day of birth filled the ballroom as she and her servant slowly descended into the pack of royals. Their polite claps surrounded her as both the music and she reached the end. With detached sincerity, Vanessa smiled at her husband's subjects until the music started to flow once more, and she, as well as all others, turned towards the top of the staircase. There the King stood, with his great gold crown shining along with his sordid glory; the bejeweled thing sitting upon a head of hair as black and unctuous as his attire. The crowd applauded at his appearance, love and adoration clear upon their faces. They continued to applaud as he descended down upon them, and Vanessa kept her face a mask of aristocratic indifference. She left her servant's side as the King arrived at last to the ballroom floor, and joined him, feeling fatigued as she did so. He bestowed upon her a condescending smile, to which she did not respond, and then turned to the crowd.
“My dearest friends, I thank you all for coming here today. Indeed, this day we celebrate the sixteenth year of our beloved Queen Soloman.” At this the royals cheered, and Vanessa nodded in way of thanks. “In addition, I bid you all to enjoy yourselves in remembrance of this being the anniversary of my sixth year as King of Aeria, and of Vanessa's sixth year as my wife.” He placed a hand on her shoulder; she tried not to flinch. There was further applause and cheer, and Vanessa flashed back to bitter remembrance the sad solemnity of her coronation. To her side, she saw her servant flinch for her. “So eat, drink, dance, and laugh to all your hearts’ content! For if there is a frown in Aeria; it does not exist within these walls.”
The crowd applauded at the end of the King’s speech and dispersed amongst themselves, though many approached them to make known their congratulations. She smiled and nodded, with the King by her side and her servant at her shadow. His Majesty's claw of a hand continued to grip her bared shoulder as they moved through the crowd, making her feel trapped among the press of bodies.
Then, the music started, and the middle of the floor cleared. Sliding his hand down to hers, he led her, to great applause, to the center of the open space. She was sure it was a lively tune, but she could not think past gritting her teeth against his mockery. “Your behavior has me deeply impressed I assure you, Vanessa,” he spoke into her ear once the dance floor was sufficiently crowded. “Violetta,” she said, unsuccessfully trying to unclench her jaw. He laughed as he turned her, and then said, “I believe six years is adequate enough time for us to drop the formalities, is it not?” She struggled not to scoff, “It is not. You are nothing to me.”
He smirked. “Oh? But we are husband and wife, King and Queen. You are sworn to me.” “We have gone over this hundreds of times. My response has not changed,” she responded sharply. They fell silent as a couple danced past them, and the King and Queen smiled in response to their slight bow of heads. Once they had passed, she continued in a hiss, “I may be sworn to you, but you do not own me. I am not a slave sent for the use of your every whim.”
She stiffened as he pulled her to him and said quietly, “Are you not?” He ran the back of his hand across her cheek and said, “You are an angel; nay! With beauty such as yours, you are a goddess. And, my dear Vanessa, I, King Soloman, am the charmed soul that has laid claim over your wonder instead of the heavens.” At this she could not suppress her derision. Leaning back, Vanessa said with great scorn, “Did you actually believe that you could woo me into acquiescence? I am baffled as to how one could even arrive at such a conclusion. If so, then I must enlighten to you that I am the Queen, not some lowly wench; I do not fall for hollow words spitted from a forked tongue.” Vanessa could see the King’s face start to redden in anger and embarrassment, but she did not yield an inch. As he opened his mouth in absolute fury with some new retort or punishment, a noble came asking for a chance to dance with the Queen. Without a choice, Soloman assented, promising her with a glare future retribution. But for that moment, Vanessa silently thanked whatever higher Power that had intervened on her behalf as she watched the King stalk off into the crowd.
---------
They came upon their floor, and with a sigh of relief, Vanessa threw her crown onto the ground, and herself onto the couch. Jason snorted, and placed the silver circlet on the table. He approached the side of the couch where her feet dangled over the armrest, and she felt him encircle her ankles with his hands. “Eighteen years old and you still can’t take off your own shoes? Or are you just that drunk?” he said while sliding the slippers off her aching feet; she did not have to look to know he was smirking.
She could not help the corner of her mouth that twitched with amusement, and propping herself up on her elbows, she said contemptuously, “Well, you are my servant. Why must I overexert myself when I have you to do it for me?”
“Really? Well then I should just walk out,” he said challengingly, pulling her towards him by her legs, “teach you some manners.” “Manners?” Vanessa replied lightly, trying to ignore the sudden shot of electricity up her legs. “Nessa?” he said questioningly, his eyes searching hers, suddenly serious. She silently cursed herself - he had heard the strain in her voice. “What?” she said defiantly. She saw his forehead wrinkle in confusion, and she immediately knew she had said the wrong thing. “I mean -” He cut across her, “What’s wrong?” She tugged her feet away from him, and he let her go. She stood up. “Nothing,” she said forcefully, and even managed a painful smile. He gave her his look, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She dropped her smile. "I'm not,” she snapped, glad to mask her secret with anger. Jay was more irritated than angry, she could tell. “Well, I hate to say this, but I am your sworn protector. You know if anything happens to you that your husband’s going to chop my head off.” With a certain triumph, she felt herself only getting angrier. “You of all people should know never to call him my husband. He is nothing to me, yet you always name him so," she said, her voice gradually growing louder. She had originally sought to steer the conversation away from her secret, but this subject was one that had continually festered in her mind and before she could stop herself, she blew up. "Why?!" she screamed, "In conversation, in jest, it is always there! Why must you always remind me?! You of all people! He beats me, he isolates me, he humiliates me, he has almost killed me! He does not love me and I certainly do not love him, therefore he is NOT my husband! So why does that word perpetually rise from your lips?! How?! How does it not burn your tongue on the way out?!" His hands closed into fists, distancing him from her. "I know you don't love him, but that doesn't matter. He's still your husband and it's my job to remind you of that." A flare of intense fury flamed inside of her and she slapped him. As steadily as she could, she said, "You said your job was to protect me." If he wasn't angry before, he definately was now. "Stop this!" he yelled, grabbing her hand as if she were going to strike him again. "How long are you going to ignore your situation! You're married! Yes," he said quickly, feeling her start to protest, "I know he's a despicable being, but that doesn't change the fact that he. is. your. HUSBAND! And you know what? He's the KING too!" She ripped her hand out of his. "I DON'T LOVE HIM!" she screamed, beside herself. "What the hell does - !" he started, looking exasperated, frustrated, furious, but then she smothered the rest of his words in a fierce kiss. She pulled away from him, but he too had lost his restraint. Jason immediately brought their lips back together, knotting his hands in her hair as she arched into him, willing even the air between them to disappear. They existed in a vacuum. Forever and ever, this eternity was surely heaven. However, they, as humans, required air, and so the two eventually resurfaced from their momentary insanity. They looked at each other, both breathing rather heavily. Vanessa noticed they had somehow ended up on her bed. She ran her fingers through his shaggy brown locks, saying, "I take it you love me too." He groaned, gently brushing off her hand and sitting up. "Of course I love you, Nessie," he said, tugging her mouth up into a smile, "You know how long I've been trying to hide that from you? And now it turns out you love me too." His head fell into his hands, despair radiating off of him. Still euphoric from his confession, but a little stymied by the tone with which he delivered it, Vanessa replied, "Love is not a miserable thing, Jay, so stop acting like it is." He looked back up at her, his gaze tormented, sending an echoing pain of worry through her. "Nessie, you're married to the king." Her brief, yet glorious taste of heaven immediately imploded at his words, sending her crashing back to the hell of reality. "Yes," she replied quietly, incapable of any response even remotely adequate for the situation. Do you swear upon pain of death to follow that which you have understood?....I swear. Pain of death.... "I will not live in fear of death," Vanessa said suddenly, breaking the silence that had begun to blanket them while they were absorbed in their own thoughts. Jason simply stared at her abrupt statement, his eyes pained. Nevertheless, she elaborated, "I never hid my love from you because I feared Soloman. I feared you. I feared your pity and your pain....but never death." He remained silent, although his eyes had now closed. She continued, "What is the point of living decades in life, when those years are empty, each second bringing nothing but pain and sorrow? Just as the black of night must always come to end day's reign, death too awaits every soul born on this planet. To spend my days in constant fear of that inevitable darkness is foolish and painfully wasteful, and so I will not." He opened his eyes. She awaited his speech, and to her sorrow, it came. "But you have a duty to Aeria. You're our queen." "'With stability in the palace, serenity flows from all world affairs,'" Vanessa said to him, reminding him of the old saying, "And I cannot have stability without you." His eyes pierced her. "I'm still here." She refused to look away. "Not all you can be," she answered, "For me you have been a father, a brother, and the best of friends, but I have yet to see you as a...husband." His eyes flashed at the word, understanding its significance, but still he replied, "You already have a husband." She countered firmly, "Only in name." He sighed in frustration, but took her hand, seeming unable to help himself. "Don't you understand that even though you don't fear your death, I do? You're only eighteen, Nessa! There's so much you can offer the world as its queen and so much that it can give back to you. If I allow myself to love you, I'm placing in your hands a blade that will prick a thousand drops of blood before it finally turns around and kills you. How could I do that? How could I let that thing anywhere near your heart?" She could not help but smile - he had unwittingly given her that sword years ago. To tear the sunken blade out of her chest now would be to kill her. "You are wrong, Jay," Vanessa ended up saying, "The blade itself will not kill me. It will be I who wields it, who controls it, and it will be I who decides when, where, and how my life ends, not it. If you are the one to place the blade in my hands then you give me control and power over my own fate, for which I will not only be grateful, but also happy and free. You were also wrong about the droplets of blood. Any blade you give me will shed minute fragments of the soul, not vulgar blood. One by one, I know, they will leave me and flow into you." A small smile had formed on his face, and she traced it lovingly. Finally, she asked, "Will you help set me free, Jay?" He gazed at her longingly, squeezing their intertwined fingers. "Will you promise me you'll be safe?" he eventually asked. "No," she answered truthfully, "That is an impossible and impractical promise. However, I will promise that I will try my best to be." He was silent for several moments. Then, he glanced down at their hands. "Okay," he said finally, "okay."
"I love you," she said.
He smiled and answered, "Never knew those words could be so beautiful." "I am immensely sorry to have deprived you of such consummate beauty for so long," she replied, biting her lip at her light sarcasm. Vanessa could almost feel her soul finish melding with his. Embracing her in his arms, he laughed.
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“VIOLETTA!” She froze in the act of placing the dining table. She and Jason looked up at the other; neither able to move. “VIOLETTA!” They paled with dread at the unmistakable sound of fear itself – the hunting cry of the King. At its sound, they were spurred to action, and both quickly gathered the knives and forks. She handed Jason hers and hurriedly said, “Go. You can take care of me later.” "Nessa-" "No," she said, shaking her head. Looking into his worried face, she repeated fiercely, "Go." They stared at each other in a second of heated silence, until Jason wordlessly surrendered, closing his eyes against the pain of acceptance. He squeezed her hand fiercely, risking a light kiss, and then left through the servants' door. Not a second later, the King burst into the hall with the rage of a rampaging bull; anger pulsing violently out of his entire frame – down from his quivering hands, up to his bloodshot eyes. Upon seeing her, he charged with a fury that made her tremble, and, before she could do anything but widen her eyes, he seized her and threw her onto the ground. Pain cracked through her skull, momentarily blinding, and then throughout her entire body as his polished boot brutally and mercilessly beat her. Crying out, she rolled away from his ferocity, and kicked a chair at him. She grabbed onto the table, and struggled to right herself in the split second it took for him to push the dining chair out of his way. Realizing her efforts as futile, she dropped onto the floor, and attempted to crawl under the table and to the other side. She screamed as he caught her left foot, and desperately grabbed at the marble floor as he dragged her towards him. Looking up at his maddened face, she cried, “I have done nothing! I swear to God I have done nothing!” His face twisted into a mixture of anger and savage humor, and then, laughing his cruel laugh, he pulled her up to him so that she could smell his clean breath. “Do not fret, my child,” he hissed, a sound of acid seeping through one's veins, “I know you have done nothing.” With a roar he threw her back onto the ground so that she landed yards away. He walked slowly over to her, with steps of precision, taking off his belt so that it lay as a weapon in his hands. Rage once again filled his features and before she could utter a single word, he screamed, “YOU HAVE DONE ABSOLUTELY” pain, “POSITIVELY,” pain, “NOTHING!” pain, agonizing pain....
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“'....many years. Sometimes I wonder if they love each other at all.' 'Preposterous! That's our King and Queen you're talking about there.' 'Exactly what I am getting at, dear. How can we have a stable world without a stable Royalty?' 'But we do, so there is nothing to worry about, Scarlett.' 'Do we really? As I said before, they do not have a child.' 'Perhaps she is barren.' 'Then he would have had her executed years before.' 'Scarlett!' 'It is the truth. Do not give me that look, Viola. Would Freddie have kept you without that little monster upon your lap?' 'All the same, best not to talk of such things.' 'But does that not make you wonder? Come now, they do not attend more than five social events a year! Surely that indicates an uncertain marriage?' 'Only gossips such as you notice these things.' 'I am going to ignore that, Viola, as I am in such a good mood.' 'Oh? And what has warranted such a mood?' 'Well, if you must know, I went down to the market just now and....'”
“'....wha? Twen'y yeas oldah than tha' lil gal?' 'She ain't lil no more, no sirree. An' nah, Goge, he jus' ten yeas.' 'Jus'?! No wondah der no love in dat palace o' ders. 's like livun 'lone foh eva, poh gal.' 'Why Goge, you turnin' intuh a gal, talkin' 'bout lurv an' all dat nunsense....'”
“Bickering all the time, that's what I heard....tsk, not the way a married couple, nonetheless a royal couple, should act....”
“....gonna fall apart, and then where'll we be?”
“Is this not her seventeenth year? For God's sake, I'll have a child with him if she herself is too much of a child to do so....”
“.... they are most definitely a disgrace....”
“They're evil the lot of them....don't even try for the sake of their world....”
“You're not making this any easier. Just calm down.” Vanessa took a deep breath, and said through gritted teeth, “Just turn it off, Jason.” The room ceased to fill with the voices of the commoners, and she relaxed infinitesimally, but still shook with anger. She lay face down upon a table while Jason tended to her wounds, namely the ones made by King Soloman's demon weapon. They were stationed on their floor in the extra bedroom that led off of Jason’s dressing room. It served as their infirmary, and it was stocked with medicine they periodically stole from the palace's medical sector. She heard him sigh, but he continued to work in silence on her bruised and bloodied form; it ached a hundred times more than when she had lost consciousness, but felt better than when she had revived. She spoke out against his silence, her voice trembling slightly with anger and pain, “He wants me to bear him a child.” She felt him pause, but ignored it and said, “He beat me today because I haven't – I wouldn't –“ Red tinged her vision. “Nessa - “ “And my people despise me for it!” she burst out, and then groaned as her body protested against her sudden movement. Abandoning his work, he went around the table, and crouched down so that she could see his light green eyes pierce her own, “'Despise' is a strong word, and I would hardly use it to describe the way your people feel about you.” She sighed and, with a last look at his calm unrelenting eyes, closed her own with tiredness. His presence having slightly dissipated her anger, she slipped back into peaceful blackness.
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The bathroom door slammed into place, and not a second after she had locked it, the violent pounding of his Highness's fury exploded onto the slim barrier of her painfully transient haven. She simply stood there, gasping for breath through the terror that constricted her chest. Wildly, she looked around the four walls of her large but confined bathroom for any means of escape, and choked with increasing panic as she found none. “OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!” he screamed, pounding relentlessly against her last defense. She herself screamed in frightened frustration, her whole body tingling with foreboding. “Please, God, please, help me, I can’t, please, I CAN”T!” she shrieked, sobbing with hopelessness. She fell to the floor as a helpless's fatigue washed through her, pleading with her arms wrapped around her in a weak semblance of safety.
A crack appeared in the door, and a moment later the King burst forth with a savage yell of triumph, followed by her wild shrieks of terror. She crawled away from him with revived adrenaline, blind terror casting out every thought but to get away. “Come here, you damned girl!” he shouted, grabbing her legs and dragging her towards hell. He snarled as she tried to kick him, but contorted his face into a sadist's pleasure as he grabbed her flailing foot and twisted her ankle with a sharp crack. She screamed with pain, and seizing his chance, he ripped and clawed at her already torn dress, tearing at the mangled cloth. She cried out with violent desperation, struggling to wrest herself away from him, but she was falling, drowning, diminishing into nothing...
In a moment of agonizing eternity, he was ripped off of her, and she gasped breaths of life. “Nessa!” Shocked relief poured through her at the sound of his voice, and she sat up with unbelieving eyes. He seemed to be an angel in her haze of fear, and she almost laughed with the giddiness of release. “Jason!” she cried with initial euphoria, but, at his appearance, almost immediately the dread of reality returned, “Oh God. Oh God, Jay, no you –” She looked around, and saw his Majesty on the floor nearby, unmoving. Her breath hitched as she stared up into Jason's grim face, and said with the whisper of fear, “No.”
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“Even if some miracle had allowed you to produce that bastard of yours without breaking your vows, that thing is not mine. Now, I have shown you mercy-” “Mercy?! Do not attempt to fool me. We both know that Jason and I are the ones with royalty in our veins. You lose the crown to him the second I die.” “Unless he dies.” “My son is innocent. Killing him is the path of liars and cowards.” “Is it? I see it as a path to victory.” “Your first murder might have been overlooked by my people, but the killing of a child will not be so easily forgiven. Do not let this right the skewed vision the kingdom has of you.” “In just a few days that vision will not matter because I will not be King. I am not blinded of your hatred for me. Your first act as true Queen will be to drag me off the throne.” “So you would kill my heir? That will change nothing.” “Not true, Violetta, it will devastate you. That bastard is the only thing you care to keep alive, and your sole connection to your late love. Without him, you have nothing for you in this world; no one who cares whether you live or die and no one whom you care lives or dies. You would protect him with your life and more. Do you deny this?” “If I did?” “Then these past four years will have been a waste. I have no love for the boy. King or not, I will make sure he dies.” “And if I did not?” “Then you have another future you can choose. In it, I remain the King of Aeria and, as my wife, you will give me a proper heir. And the boy will live.” “I will never bear your child.” “Then the bastard dies.” “And you will have no throne.” “I will remain a noble of Darin. You will lose your firstborn to stubbornness and spite. He looks a lot like his father. Tell me, if I kill your bastard, would you feel as if he were dying again?” “I-I don’t-” Her armor was cracking, and judging by his malicious smile he knew it. “If you agree to my conditions then you sleep in my bedroom starting this night on. If not, Jason dies tonight.” She sat there for what felt like an eternity, but did not move one inch. He never lost that malicious smile. Slowly, she stood up. “There is a third option, my Lord,” she said stiffly, her hands damp with sweat, “I’m surprised you didn’t think of it yourself.” Her heart raced as he furrowed his overhanging brows, “What-?” Quick as a viper, she jumped on him, covering his mouth with her left hand and with the other, sinking a simple table knife deep into his heart.
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Vanessa once again walked down those broad, blood-red steps, this time dressed in a shining silver gown. This royal apparel matched the thin circlet placed upon her dark, sleek hair, which flowed down her shoulders. She walked alone. And when Vanessa reached the end of those never-ending steps, she remained alone. She smiled to the whispering crowd confidently and mournfully communicated his majesty was not feeling well. No one had seen him for a few days, she said, she herself had not been allowed into his room. They had heard of his illness; they did not question her. The people walked up to her during the party, always offering her consolations, always determined he will make a full recovery. Thinking only of her son upstairs, she thanked them for their sympathy. Soon they will know…but then she will rule over them all.
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Gray surrounded her. The verdant leaves had died along with their master in this sorrowful winter, almost angering the Queen for their thoughtfulness. But of course, they were inanimate objects. Vanessa thought upon this as she sat listening to the same priest drone on about her late husband. His speech was irritatingly similar, if not identical, to the one he delivered for her father. They were both kings, she thought furiously, but not both men.
There had been no funeral for Jason. Only a rope around his throat and the silent goodbyes she hoped he received as she sat imprisoned in her room. His son, however, sat to her left, dressed insultingly in black. The color was prudent, but that did not make her despise it any less. She grabbed his small hand. He did not cry for either of his fathers, indeed he was not born to see his first die, but she was glad he was now too small to understand that his second had also been murdered. A wry smile threatened to cross her stern features, but she fought it down before it could betray her.
She had been the one to “find” her Lord dead in his bed, a dark, crusted wound covering his black heart. She thought then that they would see clear through her façade as she shouted through the palace that her hated husband had been killed. But no one did. Her hands, her voice, her body, they all shook with fear, but everyone mistook it for sorrow. Not one suspected her…but the walls, the trees, the heavens, even sleep knew. They battered against her conscience, viciously hissing that she could have run away, that she could have hidden Jason, that she could have slept with the King, that she could have pretended for those four days and then dethroned him. She didn’t though…she didn’t. She was a murderer, no better than those that killed her mother and father. No better than the King himself. For nights she stared at the still bloodied knife she had used to reach his hardened heart, willing her hand to take it and end her own life….and see Jay again…but then they would know. Jason would know. She would not be there to make him understand, she would not be there to protect him….and so she lived. The knife, however, was still stained, was still hidden in her bedside drawer, and the temptation to join the man that she had loved, still loved, still lingered in her mind.
The King’s funeral ended, and a stray tear escaped her troubled eyes. The sobbing royals might have mistaken the thing for despair over her late husband, but so much the better.
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Queen Violetta, no one dared to breathe the name Soloman anymore, sat upon her ice-blue throne, her only company the thin golden snakes spiking through the walls. She herself was inlaid with gold, which shimmered through her standard black outfit: a smooth throat-clenching one-piece that stretched from her wrists to her ankles - the upper half covered with a slim yet bulletproof vest. Hanging off this odd apparel were daggers, knives, guns, and a thin and deadly sword. At the moment, Violetta was idly wiping vivid scarlet drops from her beloved weapon, its winking gleam mimicking her silver crown. A tear dropped and disappeared onto the stained metal, but her countenance betrayed nothing.
Suddenly, the silent double doors groaned open and she looked up at once, slipping her sword into its sheath. A lone figure walked up the scarlet carpet, the doors booming shut behind him. She regarded the boy coldly. “Yes?” she said, not bothering to even put up a façade of warmth. “Mother,” said Jason just as icily, “The rebellion in Jinn has succeeded in overthrowing your appointed puppet. They are expected to win over the entire city in a matter of days.”
Violetta sighed her frustration in silence, her face showing not even a flicker of life. Before her pause could be labelled as hesitation, she said, “Send General Morris and his army as backup for the soldiers in Jinn…then contact S-Five and see what security they’ve placed around the capital; see if we cannot dispatch a force in there while they are preoccupied with our reinforcements. Afterwards, find out both the most obvious place to strike at the capital and the least. All discreetly, of course.” Nodding his head to indicate that he had received and will execute her orders, her son left without another word. Staring blankly at the intricately carved doors, she felt nothing.
Quietly, she unsheathed her perpetually bloody sword, and set again to cleaning it. Although teardrops could be seen to soak abruptly into the tarnished metal every few minutes, not one ever graced itself upon her face.
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“Nessa.” She had turned towards the sound of her name, breaking her gaze from the glowing pink horizon. Jason walked towards her, his smile infinitely more beautiful than the image her eyes had just left. “Yes?” she said to him, content. He stood next to her, joining her serene vigil of the daybreak, and had asked, “Do you ever wonder why the sun rises?”
“Hmm?” she said.
“Why does it always rise again and again once night falls?” he clarified, “Shouldn't the moon be enough for light?” He had been smiling. Taking his hand, she answered, “We cannot feel the moon. Humans must feel.”
They had intertwined their fingers.
“But the sun’s fire is reckless,” he countered, “And after a while, you can feel the moon too. Its light is pure and true, but at the same time it can hide our secrets in the abundant darkness.”
“There is always darkness with light,” she answered calmly; “It is the same with the sun. However, the brightness of the sun embraces our shallower secrets, accepting both them and their owner. Anyway, life cannot exist with perpetual purity.”
The beauty of sunrise was then fading, slowly giving way to day’s standard blue and yellow. Before it could completely disappear, however, she had asked him, “Am I the sun or the moon, Jay?”
He had gently unlocked their hands. He did not give her an immediate answer, and she did not expect him to. They had turned their backs on the now common horizon, him allowing her to walk in front. They traveled in silence for several steps, but eventually his hand softly brushed over hers. From behind her, she had heard him say, “You’re superior to them both.”
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Vanessa gasped awake in the same room she had once shared with her long-dead servant. As the present surrounded her, a fierce and unrelenting pain tore through her body, centering itself on her shredded heart. With tears that seemed to consist of acid blood, she clutched at the silken blanket; near to believing that Jason’s scent still clung to them as she still did to his love.
Upon realizing that there was no scent - none but her own - Vanessa screamed. A wild, wailing, torn scream uttered through dead lips and directed towards dead ghosts. Immediately, she ripped open her bedside drawer and pulled out the old, tarnished knife infused with ancient blood. It hovered over her heart as it had done so many times before, but before it could impel its master, the moment had passed.
Vanessa flung it from her, despising her will to live a crippled and sinful life. However, she could never bring herself to end it.
In facing death, she had been forced to realize that she had lied for all those years: she feared that unknown darkness. She feared it. She feared it mortally. Vanessa could still feel her heart - beaten and bloodied but still alive - pumping life through her; hyper-aware of the fact that it had just been seconds yet an eternity away from death. “Jay,” she whispered, “I am so sorry. I lied. I did not know. I did not know.”
The blood-water still stained her cheeks. Taking a rattling breath, Vanessa allowed them temporary shelter while she painfully removed herself from her laden bed. The one traditionally designated to a close servant still sat in the corner of her wide room, but it sat empty. A half-glance was all she spared towards this darkened corner before striding determinedly towards her shower, her toothbrush; her cool routine. The blood stayed.