Morons and Monarchs

Chapter One: Viviendel🍄

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖎𝖘 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖉𝖎𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖈 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖚𝖘𝖚𝖆𝖑.

Freyja, the ground seems to whisper as guards of our beloved Queen stomp from house to house. Freyja, I guess, was the Queen of the Class of Wilderness and Death. Her own death was just announced to the public; the shocked gasps from everyone still haunt me. Nobody even liked her-they rumored her to kill humans. Humans like my father. And now her death has sent the world into chaos.

A knock sounds at my door; I jump up to open it. I am quicker than my father, who is young for human years, meaning he is flexible, strong, and fast. Only I am half-Bwardapuginin, so I am faster.

My one mushroom-horn flops around on my head as I make my way to the door. The knock sounds again, and I can tell that the guard is impatient. I know and understand that I am not as fast as the Fae, but I am not that slow.

I swing the door back, holding it open with my hip. The guard does not bother with pleasantries as he did with the other houses, which is understandable, pure-blooded guards dislike us half faeries. Not that I give much tolerance for their rudeness.

The guard looks distraught by my appearance, which confuses me because I took a lot of time to get ready today, and I had to put down my book to do my eyeliner.

I even put on my favorite dress. Although blue is the color of mourning, and I will not be mourning my Queen. She hurt humans, after all.

My dress is fitted to the top half of my body. The dark blue splashes with swirls of light blue. The contrast makes the dress that much more spectacular. A golden belt that hangs low onto my hips. The belt is a woven embrace, as if nature's strands had strewn together to form this slender cloth fabric. It is gentle to the touch and solid, and the gold resembles the forest's orange leaves in fall.

Mother Nature gave us fashion, as her leaves were our first clothes. Within fashion, we show how connected we are with nature. And I might be the most connected person on the planet, as I am clearly the most fashionable.

Under the belt, a fabric of bright seductive red folds into the crevices of pleats. It is a beautiful sight. The red is splashed with a duller burgundy. I love it.

Cold air pushes up against my leg, and my eyes travel down to a split in the dress. The split reaches up from my ankle up to the side of my thigh. Smiling at the guard, I try to hide my leg inside the fold of the immaculate dress. But when I look back at him, it seems he wasn't even looking at it.

My nose picks up on his foreign scent; I have a better sense of smell than my father. It comes in handy whenever he makes me surprise birthday cakes and I already know what flavor and everything because I can smell it from my room.

The guard smells of an old book, and I unconsciously lean in. Not only like an old book, but a whole vintage bookstore, with ancient scrolls and unrecognizable merchandise inside. I get drunk off the smell as if I am floating on clouds with a million different fantasies surrounding me. Ink and vintage paper, they should make a perfume. Withering paper and magical beasts are what this guard smells like, a musty old loving scent.

I hear my father's footfalls in the other room before he even approaches the hall, and I fall back with shock. Forgetting that my father is very slow, I shouldn't have pulled back from the guard so fast. Then I wouldn't have just sprawled myself on the floor. I look up at the guard, a red hot tint snaking itself up my face.

The guard just smiles, obviously laughing at me with his eyes. I copy the smile, my own sheepish.

"What is happening here?" My father's gruff voice demands from the hallway. I look up to see him towering over the guard, his eyes blazing.