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Spring - First Bloom - 5 (A Queen forlorn)
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The Queen of Elfhame was a sight to behold, and devastating was her beauty.
Her lithe figure and ethereal features suggested the sultry abundance of awakening nature, an allure transcendent as an aureate spring morning. Her silken hair was a cascade the hue of pristine snowdrops, the soft pout of her lips the rich shade of peonies and a perpetual rose blush graced the radiance of her dewy skin. All this was complemented by the electrum sheen of her eyes, which were reminiscent of a sunrise’s first golden rays, kissing the silver of dawn mist.
Alas, it was all but a lifeless mask most times, kept stoic and indifferent through sheer force of will, never giving away even the slightest hint of emotion. It was a dangerous luxury the Queen was loath to afford, as every part of her inner turmoil presented to the world could be used as a weapon against her.
“As usual, no one is to enter. And I will not be disturbed until I command you otherwise,” the Queen dismissed her escort to guard the entrance to her regal chambers.
Both armoured Fae bowed deep as she turned her back on them, and with an echoing thunder the doors slammed shut behind her. They cut off the susurrus of palace noise, and the Queen felt tension drain from her rigid limbs. What a relief it was to let her composure slide, here in the solitude of her sanctum! No other being was permitted there whilst the Queen was present, and she allowed not even servants to remain. She would not abide anyone in attendance but her sole trusted companion, and she sighed as she set her weary eyes upon the one she could be her true self with.
“Alone, at last,” the Queen breathed. “I longed for the embrace of your company, my Trusted, my Heart, for I am in grave need of your guidance.”
The Queen’s reign had been tumultuous, and much to her chagrin, it seemed to remain so. In a time long past, she was betrayed by the three closest to her heart - a treachery so foul, it shattered her life and her confidence in her beloved. Unwavering before, it had been replaced by a distressing blend of sickening emotions, and to this day, she could not help but weigh all of his words on the scales of righteous ire. In the early aftermath, when the wound was still fresh, her heart had felt as if it had been turned inside out. It was raw like a burn wound without skin, and even the faintest whisper had been enough to rend this bare flesh like claws. Time dulled the pain to a lingering ache, yet her distrust was as sharp as ever. The only companionship she permitted these days was her single ally, and but a handful of servants were allowed to tend to her quarters during her absence. She had hand picked them for their discretion, and to her satisfaction, they had not broken her perceived trust. Yet. Of course, never again would she allow anyone the opportunity to hurt her on such a scale, and these days, the mere retelling of her words or deeds could be fatal for the offender. More terrible than her beauty was only the Queen’s wrath.
“What to do now, my Heart? As we feared, he would not be reasoned with,” the Queen aired her frustration, the gravity of the circumstances still weighing on her. “This time he might have just doomed us all.”
Her Confidante hissed, every aspect of her appearance a polar counter to the Queen's own. The tresses of her hair were a midnight black thundercloud, roiling about her gaunt body as she strode across the room, contrasting against her deathly white skin - its desolation reminiscent of a wintry wasteland. Her lips, faded as the ashen pallor of frostbitten petals, turned into a vicious snarl and her eyes threatened with the unyielding steel of a blizzard sky.
“We must consider our next steps with the utmost care and deliberation. As expected, we found no like-minded allies among the rabble of the Court,” the Queen bit her lips. “Once again we must rely but on our own strength and wits.”
“We knew he was not to be trusted,” the Confidante snarled. “Yet his cowardice was unexpected, and it is most inconvenient that he would enforce his word with all his might now of all times,” she concluded, her voice sharp as ice shards and filled with fury. While she paced about the room, churning like the furious tides of a tempest, she cast a fierce aura of temptation, the harrowing enchantment of a raging winter storm.
“His whims are mercurial as ever,” the Queen agreed, her brow furrowed deeply. “Of course I did not expect him to readily accept my counsel, but to disregard it in its entirety is most unwise given the current events.”
Circumstances of late had proven yet again that he could not be trusted, not as a Monarch and most certainly not as the one who held her so dear, her words were his command. Tremendous quakes in the weave had left their lands in terror, and instead of uniting with her under the threat, the Regent had thwarted her and dictated the proceedings with solitary might. He had made clear, in no uncertain terms, that he was not to be disobeyed on the matter, and that dire consequences would follow for any and all who dared to go against his word.
“Disregard?” her Confidante snapped. “Have you already forgotten? This was no mere dismissal of your words, but a calculated affront! I beg of you, are we to ignore this? It was an insult unforgivable, to remind you in the full presence of the Court of your place as his Consort! How dare he announce that you are Ruler in name and by his grace only?”
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The Queen flinched. It was untrue, of course, as her deep ties to these lands and its magic were undeniable and powerful, a fact he was well aware of. It had been a vain display, his power dominating hers. Oh, the humiliation!
“How could I?” she declined. “Of course I have not forgotten. Patience, my Heart. We will see him pay dearly for this grave insult,” the Queen amended with a cruel smile, even while her eyes drowned in bitter tears. “Still, his decisions seemed - erratic. Time must have addled his thoughts, I can not make sense of his behaviour otherwise. Does he not fear for our safety? What could drive him to such contradiction - to first assert his overwhelming rule, only to then command us all to seek refuge behind palace walls?”
At that moment, she had been glad that he did not hold sway over her heart any more. She would have withered with shame at his weakness, that he would choose to cower instead of stand against.
“Who knows,” the Queen's Confidante mused. Peaceful times may well have softened his resolve and lessened his wilfulness. The Monarchy has no opponents, no foes to fight in open conflict, at least, and so he has no tools to sharpen his mind with. Apart from the intrigues, schemes, and plots at Court - however cruel they might be - your reign itself remains unchallenged.”
For the sake of their subjects, the Monarchs had reached a consensus after their falling out in the long lost past, and a truce - albeit a tense one - had been struck. Alas, their denizens had shown little loyalty during those trying times, failing to align themselves with either Ruler. She knew there were those who longed for the favour of their Regent over her own. Though hurtful, the Queen could have understood - if not forgiven - them remaining true to him. Yet, this regal dispute had brought out the most wretched in them, and, among the members of the Court in particular, behaviour reached atrocity beyond words. Not only did they neglect to declare their allegiance, but they chose to exploit the turmoil for their own gain and, what was even worse, for the pastime of cruel amusement. She had held some of them dear, and the added loss at their abandonment had torn at the forlorn remnants of her heart. Since then, every moment had stretched long for the Queen. She took each wary step with utmost attentiveness, selected all her words with the highest caution, and wielded her smile as nothing but a blade.
“Be that as it may, the recent Calamity made no distinction between any of us. All have come to harm. This is not something one can hide from!” the Queen exclaimed. “No,” she decided. “His verdict does not bind me, it is not my law; it has not been for ages and I will not let it stand now. I have to do something, one of us needs to care for the welfare of the Volk, however capricious, petty and spiteful they might be. I would rather stay the unloved Queen at Elfhame than become a Ruler of dead lands and no one at all.”
"If you are to retain what little status he left you with, but are still unfazed in your conviction to ensure Elfhame’s perseverance, you have but one possible course for now,” the Queen's Confidante concluded. “You know what must be done. End the banishment, send out the call,” she whispered, and r Queen's eyes went wide. Then, without so much as a farewell, leaving a delicate touch, chill as a winter night's gust of wind instead, the Confidante was gone.
The Queen, alone in her Chambers now and feeling bereft of her Confidante's reassuring presence, wavered for a moment, unsure if interfering in his rulings now would impede her plans when the time for retaliation came at last. And yet, the weight of her duty returned; she owed it to her lands if not its Volk to act. Her resolve steadied, and her decision made, she marched through the sheer curtains, floating in a gentle breeze, out onto the expansive balcony circling the tower of her chambers. The melodies and delicious fragrances of an evening at Elfhame greeted her, caressing her frayed senses, and the vast night sky let her breathe, freeing her from some of the burden she carried. Starsparkles floated gently about the air, and she was glad to see them restored. They had vanished during the Calamity, when the pattern tremors had caused disturbing surges in all of magic. At this very moment, nothing but her own torturous memories reminded her of the havoc of late she had witnessed. Elfhame’s magic was strong, and her Volk would conquer the rebuild, no matter their failings and flaws. There was still so much beauty to be found here - if one could live with the hideous and the repulsive underneath - the Queen’s heart ached with regret and the discord these conflicting emotions created. She took a moment to gather herself and focus the frenzied upheaval of her thoughts, then sang an otherworldly cadence of heart-rending and mournful longing, the trills and notes akin to the song of a bird.
“Come to me now, and reclaim your place by my side. Make haste, child, for I am in dire need of your aid.”
Before long, her song was answered, and soon, tender as a kiss, nimble feet touched down on the intricate tile mosaic of her balcony’s floor. With content, the Queen watched as beauty unfolded in a rush of Starsparkles, the metamorphosis a marvellous revelry of autumnal hues.
“I appreciate your swift return,” the Queen graced the arrivant, her welcome offered as delight that did not quite reach her eyes. “Alas, you reek of rotten leaves and iron. Tell me, where might you have ventured and subjected yourself to these stenches most foul?”
“My Queen, I ask for your forgiveness. My travels have brought me far and wide, and since you called upon me, I have not had a moment to attend to myself. Yet my soul rejoiced at your beckon - that you would allow me to come home at last. I will forever heed your summons, as soon as the grace of the winds will permit.” The slender being took to a deep bow. “Your word, for me, transcends all others.”
A cruel streak darkened the breathtaking canvas that was the Queen’s countenance, but hide it, she could quite well. Taking it from them - taking it from him - had been a wise choice, yet holding its heart was the real accomplishment. For now. She had vowed to gain triumph, see them shattered in the end. With smiles and hoarfrost she would bring about their doom, celebrate their peril and destroy even their names so completely, they would be forgotten to time.
“Come, child,” she motioned with an inviting gesture. “Your homeland and Volk face mortal peril and your Queen requires your service. I will recount what you need to be told,” she announced, a dangerous glitter hiding in the silver-gold depths of her eyes.
The Queen of Elfhame was vengeance incarnate, and their ruin would be her glory.
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