Death can easily be administered to anyone regardless of how successful they were in life.
A god agrees with the nihilist in this story.
There are many tragedies in this story. Many fortunes arising, too.
But the god and the antichrist don't car...
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Give Her His Heart
Varbridge Palace, Ember's Rock, Saprea
"Her Majesty told me that you are a woman, and should not dress like a little girl—hold out your arm. Your bosom should not be hidden," the seamstress said, looping her measuring string around Desyrae's chest. "Even so, you're being married to the next High King. Marrying yourself into such a powerful family requires a grand gown."
"I can't imagine how hefty her coronation gown will be," Queen Isannah said.
"Darling," Queen Irene called out soothingly, "I hope you have a steel rod as a back. No one ever tells you have heavy the gown will be."
"Nor the cloak or the crown," Isannah hastened to add before Irene could even exhale.
"With all the fittings I'm sure Desyrae has had for her wedding gown, she probably feels like a pincushion," said Irene with a pout.
Desyrae spent the past day surrounded by her family but she felt so distant from everyone. It was decided that the wedding must take place with all possible haste long ago, but as it came closer to the ever of her wedding, she became melancholic.
Desyrae felt a rush of something utterly foreign fill her lungs. It was air, she realized dumbly. She'd been holding her breath. She hadn't even realized that she'd been holding her breath which posed as a problem for Lady Maglova, the seamstress.
"I'd like a moment alone with my daughter."
Isannah noticed that her daughter's face was strangely devoid of emotion. She begged for a moment alone with her daughter, ushering out Desyrae's bridesmaids and closest friends. The High Queen understood and walked the girls out.
"Come girls, we'll see your personal couturiers while Desyrae gets her dress made," Irene said as her hands came up in a hurry-along-girls sort of gesture.
"Are we sure that the gowns will be ready in time?" Desyrae asked again, though not out of pure curiosity. She hoped that the dress wouldn't be ready in time so the wedding would be delayed.
Lady Maglova nodded through her concentration, taking the last measurements before assembling her things together. "Oh, sooner, much sooner. Her Majesty insists. I have six seamstresses and four apprentice prolee girls working, and we have set all our other works aside for them. Many ladies will be cross with us, but it is the High Queen's command."
The woman collected her things and Desyrae's maid helped carry a basket of fabrics out of her room after the dress was removed and laid out on the bed. The other seamstresses curtsied and took their leave so that the queen and her daughter could speak in private.
Desyrae got off her platform and walked behind a divider to change into a robe.
Isannah poked her head in, an awkward smile pasted on her face. "Thank Her Majesty for her thoughtfulness. She is too kind to you."
