Duty and Doom

Part 1: White as Snow

The fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, bathing the room in a soft light. Across from the fireplace, window framed with ebony faced a wild forest, with snow-capped mountains peeking out over the horizon. The sun was setting, painting the sky with glorious crimson stripes. The window was open, letting in the crisp winter air that carried the faintest fragrance of pine. In front of the window, there was a tall blood-red chair, and in that chair, there was a queen.

Queen Mara White gazed out into the distance, watching the snowflakes float gently to the ground. The intricately embroidered baby gown that she had been working on lay forgotten in her lap, and her hand subconsciously rested on her rounded stomach as she stared contemplatively at the snow swirling outside, a slight smile illuminating her face. It was almost time; there was only around a week left. She shivered and drew her purple shawl closer around her shoulders as a strong gust of cold air rushed through the window, chilling the room.

Mara was shaken from her reverie as the large oak door beside the fireplace slowly creaked open. A servant softly walked in and curtsied, pausing as she addressed the queen.

"Your tea, my lady," the maid murmured softly as she carried the tea tray to the side table beside the chair. The room was silent except for the soft hiss of the tea as the servant deftly poured the queen a cup. After the maid had finished adding sugar and cream, she backed up and stood with her hands folded, watching her mistress. Queen Mara flicked a pleased glance towards the girl who had waited on her.

"Thank you, Retta. How's your brother doing? Is he still ailing?"

"Yes, m'lady. He's doing better, but he still has a bad cough. He says to thank you for the soup you sent yesterday! I had a bite myself and it was delicious."

"I'm sorry to hear that he is still under the weather. If his cough persists for another week, I'll have the royal physician sent down immediately. That will be all, Retta; thank you," Mara murmured, and she dismissed Retta with a regal nod. The girl curtsied again and slowly retreated backward out of the room, ensuring that she did not insult the queen by turning around. The door latch clicked as the maid exited.

The queen daintily sipped from her teacup, grimacing. The dear girl has not put enough sugar into it again. I must be sure to remind her about this. But she made it well; besides the lack of sweetness, it is delicious, she observed, frowning down at the offending substance in front of her. Pursing her lips, she set the teacup down and picked up her embroidery. 

She examined her previous work, fingering the intricate red and black poppies she had sewn on the dainty white frock. Smiling with satisfaction, Queen Mara threaded her needle and resumed her work. She had lost her thimble; it had dropped to the floor and was nowhere to be seen. However, this did not dissuade her from the task before her. She continued to embroider into the night, oblivious to the lengthening shadows. She did not notice when another maid entered softly to light the torches hanging on the walls. Her eyelids began to grow heavy, and her eyes tired; she began to doze.

Suddenly, a prick of pain jolted her awake. Queen Mara's eyes flew open. She found the source within seconds; her needle had pricked her finger. Already, a large drop of bright red blood had dropped onto the fabric, staining it a lurid shade of crimson. The queen hurried over to the window, where she let her blood fall onto the pure white snow below. Suddenly, her eyes rolled back in her head and spasms wracked her body.

It's coming, the queen thought, trembling. She could not resist it. She never could. Her parents had told her that it was a rare Knack, that she should be glad she possessed it. Her skills were coveted and would be the gateway to great power that she could only dream of. But she would not have wished this Knack on anyone, not even if it did enable her to see things others could not. Some may think that prophecy brought power, but it did not. She knew better. It brought only pain, her pain. Her breath came out in short, panting gasps as she clenched the ebony window frame. Finally, the prophecy came, bursting forth like water over a dam:

A child will come, the child of your fears

a child with power beyond her years

Snow white skin, crimson red lips, coal black hair

She alone with face most fair

Can bring world ruin, so queen beware

Gradually, her vision dissipated like mist, and Mara was left alone grasping the windowsill with all of her strength. She stayed still for a moment before taking a gulping breath of air. That vision had seemed clearer than her usual ones; it seemed to be about a child. Her child. She swayed as the implications of her vision washed over her. The world would be ruined. And it would be her fault, her child, that caused the disaster.

However, her panicked train of thought was interrupted as a wave of pain suddenly washed over her. Her knuckles grew white as she grabbed the back of her chair, bracing herself.

"It's over now, at least," she whispered when the spell finally passed, as if reassuring the room as well as herself. She wiped her brow, grimacing when her hand came away wet. It had been a while since the last one; she had forgotten the ringing pain in her temples, the feeling of utter helplessness as her body was overcome by a mysterious deity that swept her identity away.

At least I'm useful to my dear husband, she thought, grimly smiling. Without her Knack, she would never have caught the king's eye or been deemed worthy to continue the royal line. Knacks were a dime a dozen, but the royals must marry those with the most prestigious ones to "preserve the purity of the family line." Even if the rarity and strength of her Knack showed that she was closely related to the gods themselves, she would give hers up in a heartbeat.

The gods were fickle, enigmatic beings if they even exist, anyhow, she told herself bitterly. Nobody knew anything substantial about them and only ancient myths preserved any record of their existence. It was not like they cared if the Knacks that they had "gifted" her with were ruining her life. She paced back and forth in front of the window, barely noticing the darkness that had crept into the room while she had been distracted.

However, a slow trickle of fluid between her legs abruptly halted Queen Mara White's reveries. She froze. All was well for a moment, and the fluid's flow seemed to have stopped, so she tentatively resumed her pacing. However, a couple of seconds later, the fluid resumed again.

No. No. No. It can't be happening, the queen groaned. She walked over to her side table to find the bell that summoned her maids. As her hand moved towards the bell, an item beside it on the table caught her attention, and she hesitated.

Beside the bell was a beautiful magic mirror, with figurines etched into its frame. She closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her. The enchanted mirror was hers alone; it had been given to her on her eighth birthday by her Aunt Beatrix, containing an enchanted boy, Makur, who had become her best friend. He had been there when she was forced to participate in the selection ceremony to demonstrate her talent; he had been there when she came home sobbing because she had been chosen to wed the king, a man old enough to be her grandfather when all she wanted was a quiet life with him by her side.

Mara blinked back tears, and straightened her back. There was no reason to wish for what could have been. It was too late for anything to be different, too late for anything to change. The past was in the past where it belonged; bringing it to the present was useless. She swiped furtively at her damp eyes, and moved towards the bell. This time, she picked it up and rang it.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

With each ominous toll of the bell, the shadows seemed to lengthen as the sense of urgency in the room heightened. Finally, her call was answered, and her servants' feet thundered up the winding stairs to her room. Her maids rushed her to her bedroom suite because it was time. The baby was coming, bringing with her the doom of the world.