A recanting of The Promise of Dawn, told from the Queen's first person POV. Like all chapters marked, 'Extra,' skipping this will not impact the main story, it will, however, make all the characters very, very sad. You've been warned.
Fire. That's what the moonlight reminded me of as it cascaded through the glass, catching on the orange and red of the mosaic representation of Meinn Karre - goddess of war. An all-consuming fire whose flames couldn't be extinguished. A fire like that of the one that burned in the hearth of my father's quarters the night he died.
He had been draped in Hoenndal- a reddish plant said to be the gods' weed, oils of Wier root and Faarvis stem coating his white fur. Their scent had clung to the air, suffocating in strength, failing to mask the rotting scent of death.
He had been struck with A'remdal, a disease that ravaged the body, leaving those inflicted by it, praying for death. In the year of Olen'dinn, the disease had claimed over a third of our kingdom, the King, himself, among it's victims. I was thirteen then, and as I ran a hand over my father's trembling fingers, an inquisitive spirit overtook me and I asked him what dying was like.
"Hevalla," he replied mustering what little strength he had left to curl the corners of his mouth upward.
"In our moments of death, we think only of our life."
******
"We mustn't linger any longer," a voice pleaded to my left.
Made of moon dust and silver, a creature I adored stood next to me, a worried look pulling his features rigid. My favorite guardsman never wore worry well. I couldn't help but smile at him.
He'd been my only friend behind castle walls, my greatest protection in times of civil unrest, and when my husband turned cold and sought the comfort of others' arms, Lain had been the man I loved in secret.
"I know," I said, watching as he tapped his fingers against his thigh. He was more than worried, he was antsy and he was wondering why I wasn't more of the same.
It was simple really; the first lesson I'd learnt after I took my kingdom's name, was that death hid in the shadows of a castle. Regardless of what I did or was to do, there would always be those that opposed me, that hated the blood that coursed through my veins. I was a queen, not a god, and queens bled just as easily as everyone else.
As I looked around the ruined chapel, my eyes fell to those who'd followed me; loyal attendants, Soroccah, Lain. Fear loomed over them, their hearts in unrest; I wondered if they regretted leaving the castle behind. Death was certain at my side but behind the castle's walls, they could plead with the usurper, pledge their fealty, and hope to be spared. The sanctuary we cowered in now offered no hope.
The tiny movements in my arms brought my attention downward. Swaddled in unremarkable brown cotton were my sons. Born in this time of chaos, cursed to live-if they lived at all- without a mother, without a home. If only they didn't carry my blood inside them. If only they didn't carry the mark of the royal family. If only.
"My Queen," a trembling voice called out. My littlest attendant, Nieh, stood before me, brown hands clawing at the green folds of her gown.
"Yes, dear?" I asked, her hands grasping at the fabric tighter, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. "Might we," she began before breaking out into hysterics. I beckoned for her to follow me toward a lesser lit part of the room. The other attendants joined us.
"Might we--" She rubbed her tears with her hands, water on brown fur like rain on scorched earth. "Might we say our g-goodbyes?"
My heart clenched in my chest at the words she'd spoken between sobs. I nodded, trying desperately to choke down my own tears while each of them hugged me with trembling arms, tears intermixing, staining my cloak.
My eldest attendant whispered a prayer of the old gods over me, then over my sons. Her words called for a reverse of fate, a savior from the inevitable, something that would never come, no matter if the gods still existed.
I thanked her none-the-less, amazed by how easily I maintained my mask. Years of forced smiles and friendly banquets held in our enemies' honor had made me a soldier of fraud, wielding a facade like a sword.
Nieh left the group as the others continued to weep around me, an unsteadiness in her gait as she crossed the threshold to approach Lain. With a puffy face, and shaking palms, she offered my guardsman a package along with a kind word. He looked back at her with the briefest glimpse of surprise as she rejoined my side, her ears slightly down turned in embarrassment.
Most of my attendants were afraid of Lain, his large stature, his unnerving grey eyes, his quiet demeanor. And they all had known of his love for me. A love that was cursed and impure. Nieh said he always stared at me with the eyes of a man in love. If only they'd seen the gaze I gave him under the night sky as he slammed his sword into the belly of a straw dummy, the eyes of a woman in love.
The day Lain had taken his vow, kneeling before the throne, sword placed on either shoulder, grey eyes unwavering in front of the man that controlled his fate, I had given him a place in my heart. I thought nothing of it and for a time, I loved my husband and his caring nature.
But life can only be stifled behind stone walls, and as his heart embraced those walls, he grew distant and distrusting. He soon came to eye me with the same caution he eyed new allies. Threats on my life were uttered over dinner, unwanted lips forcing themselves on me in the twilight of the winter months.
Through much of my ordeal, I had Lain. And when he walked at my side through the rose garden, or sat next to me as we rode in the carriage, I felt my heart ache for him. Every time I caught glimpses of him outside the west tower, training into the late evening, sweat covering his fur, his grey eyes truly alive, I found that place in my heart expanding for him until all too painfully, I learned how complete my love for him had become.
But queens didn't get the luxury of acting on feeling, on impulse. We were taught to be rational at all times, placing kingdom --placing others-- above ourselves. So I did. And now those very people sought my head. My sons' heads.
Lain walked to my side, his grey eyes meeting mine, a bottle of milk in his hand. He placed it in my own, his fingertips lightly brushing mine, and I nodded my head in thanks. I didn't dare try to speak to him then; I couldn't. I was on the verge of bursting and words I was never to say would come pouring forth and they'd only serve to burden Lain now. Love served no purpose to those whose lives are forfeit.
Instead, I turned my attention to my sons, watching as one slept, placing the bottle to the other who squirmed underneath his cloth. He took it greedily. I had given birth to healthy baby boys.
And I would never get to see them grow up. I would never get to place a bottle to their lips again or calm their cries with a mother's lullaby. This was all I would have.
And it wasn't enough.
I heard Soroccah say the portal was complete. I saw the blue swirling in the air, barely wide enough for one of us to fit through and as I thought about what waited for me on the other side, I began to shake uncontrollably. The fear that I'd tried to hold down-- to be strong for the others-- was starting to rise. I scoffed. For the first time in my life, I was allowing myself to feel, and what I felt was terror.
And then, as if on the devil's cue, the silence of that night was broken. Footsteps sounded around us, an army marching to our door, and no manner of prayer or magick could save us. I saw Lain's eyes bulge; his very nature unraveling.
Hurriedly, I walked toward him, cradling my sons harder, their tiny bodies squirming at the discomfort. Soroccah readied his stave, the air electrifying, making my fur stand on end. Louder and louder the footsteps grew, one after another, the chapel's foundation shaking, cracking, readying to die along with us.
Before I knew what was happening, Lain had grabbed my cloak and had thrown me into the portal. The blue light engulfed me, the words I'd wanted to say, carried on a wind that would find no one. I didn't get to tell any of them goodbye, to give them a chance to run, to live.
Tears fell from my eyes. Their blood would be spilled all for a name--my name. That was the price I paid for taking on a kingdom; I'd become an icon--an ideal-- forbidden to feel, to love, to live for myself. And now that my people desired me no more, I was to be forgotten, commanded to fade away.
My father was wrong; I didn't think of my life the night I was to die. I thought of the lives of those who would die because of mine and of the lives I was leaving behind.
I was Queen Lorreilana Dinn Aelurus, and I was never worth dying for.