She was descending the stony turnpike staircase, keeping her new gown afloat with her hands so that it wouldn’t tangle with her stepping. She could not afford to have any accidents. Not tonight.

She deemed the entrance hall empty at first, but reaching the last of the steps, she realized her Guardian was standing a few meters aside. He wore a formal navy blue uniform, a silver collar around his neck. His pale blue eyes looked dead as ever, and were strangely luminescent. "Queen Mona. You are most stunning tonight. The dress Marie finished sewing last night for you is of utmost elegance"

Even though he ought to be ever gentle with her apart from what he actually reckoned, this time Mona believed him all the same.

Before leaving her room, she looked at herself in the mirror for a last time. Her dress, colored lightly pink, was decorated with a dozen linen roses from her waist up to her chest. Her long golden braid was positioned on her shoulder, its end reaching her abdomen. She indeed was beautiful. And she was happy to admit that. Truth is, she could not recall feeling pretty in her fourteen years.

"Shall we go, Cassius?" said Mona.

"As her Majesty wishes"

She put her arm around his elbow, holding his bulky muscles. His height was almost twice as hers. He was a robust man, in his early forties, said to be fearsome when in battle. But to Mona, he seemed fairly uncaring about everything.

They walked through the narrow hall that led to the big dining hall, as a cold breeze chilled her to the marrow. Whether the stones of which the hall consisted released the breeze, or her anxiety, she could not tell. She just kept walking to where her King and their visitors were standing by.

Their wedding took place two nights before, in the very room they would be dining tonight. Although Mona was in fact not fond of being wed, she was a bit frustrated by the idea of her wedding taking place in a dining hall, as The Cygian Keep was said to have halls big enough to fit half a legion. But when the wedding was to begin, the guests were scarcely occupying half the room. And in the same room they feasted thereafter; the food did not vary, the music was a disaster (as the band drunk more ale than they could handle), and no one seemed to be paying her any attention, making her wonder if any northerner could recognize her but through her signature hair color. Her wedding overall was the less costly possible. Well, I guess this is likely to happen when a wedding takes place solely for political reasons, she thought to calm her nerves.

The dining room, in spite of its width, was scarcely airy as it lacked windows, while the ones that existed where of no useful broadness. The ceiling was fairly high, with an asymmetrical iron chandelier hanging from the middle, its candles not lit. The color gray prevailed everywhere in the room, in accordance to the rest of the castle.

Now, many a guest was already drunk, having as a result her getting even less attention while walking amidst their tables. Not that she cared much anyway.

She climbed up the few steps of the dais at the end of the hall, where her new family was sitting. Her husband, the Northern King, was sitting next to his sister, Irma, next to who were sitting her son, Marcus, and husband, Mykel.

The Queen and her Guardian took a sit next to their King, Otis Elidor, who happened to wear some casual brown clothes. "My beloved Queen, you came at last. I began to worry that y-"

A loud burp came out of his mouth, lasting for unexpectedly long. It smelled of wine and pork. Please, don't cry... you have to be strong, thought Mona after reconsidering her current situation.

"Please, excuse my boar of a brother in law, your Highness, but he could not restrain himself from drinking a few gallons", said Lady Irma's husband making their six year old son, Marcus, burst in laughter.

Lady Irma Elidor cleared her throat, and with an innocent and rather genuine smile proposed: "Please excuse my brother's misbehaving my Queen, but he apparently appreciated your parents' vintage truly". Her dress was of deep green color, with a black belt worn tightly around her waist. She wore no jewelry, except her wedding ring, on which was attached a humongous ruby. Her hair was blond and brown, reminding Mona of crapped grain.

"Oh, it's alright my Lady. I am actually happy that my King seems to have savored our beverages. My Lord Father and I were pretty anxious about our wines' being adeq-"

"Or maybe you were not” Lady Irma interrupted her, and then went on “if Lord Qyen loved us much, he and his Lady would not run back to their castle one day after the wedding feast. They had us plan together such brief wedding. No ceremony or feast was marvelous enough to inspire songs or tales of the new Northern Queen. Even that southern dressmaker stayed with you more than Lord and Lady Qyen did. Yet I still assume that you hate us for making you feel as a hostage here. These people are no good parents, I am sure.”

She is drunk, and wrong. Not completely though.

"Ha ha! Hostage!" said Lady Irma's six years old son, Marcus. Unnoticed, he had stood up while they were talking, and was standing behind Mona's chair by now. "No songs or tales!" he shouted in her ear, reaching his hand to her chest, squeezing hard, pulling and ripping a linen rose off her lightly pink dress. Please, don't cry... you have to be strong.

Marcus ran giggling back to his father, whose name Mona could not recall. His father told him how rude that was, and how important generosity is when talking to a Lady, let alone to the Queen. His tone reminded her more of a commendation though.

Mona turned to her left, to Cassius, since he was her last resort on that table.

"Is anything bothering my Queen?" he asked inexpressibly.

"No, of course not. I was looking forward to this very moment since yesterday."

"Maybe the atmosphere is too heavy for your Grace?"

"Everything is fine, Cassius. Thank you", she lied. Nothing is fine. My new family abhors me, my people feel no affection for me, their Queen, since the majority of them did not even notice I am here, and you, my alleged Guardian, are the dumbest of them all. Of course and the atmosphere is heavy, you idiot. It's atrocious in here.

"The Curse of the Kings, it was called back then." said Lady Irma Elidor taking a fair sip of her wine, looking at the room through blank eyes. "I love my brother Mona. Should anything befall him, I don't know what my reaction might be. In the morning, my family and I must be on our way back to Snowfall. You are the Queen now. You are responsible for my brother's welfare. And for my home. Our home, actually." she took another sip.

Mona looked at her husband. His hair was brown, and so were his eyes. A little plump he was too. At that moment, he was leaning on the table, snoring noisily.

For the next hour, she was concentrated on her dish. It contained meat, dipped in a sauce consisting of honey and sour vinegar, seasoned with something spicy Mona could not recognize. She was sure, though, that it was imported from the Eastern Kingdom. There were also varieties of salad, but all of them were out of her reach, apart from one, and she was too shy to ask for the rest. The in-reach salad was actually roasted potatoes, coated with garlic and butter. Well she hated both potatoes and garlic, having as a result her focusing merely on her meat.

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The food they serve today is much better than the food of my wedding. But today's feast is for the King's friends, so I would not blame him. In his place, I might probably have acted alike.

Half an hour passed, probably the most uneventful half an hour of her life. The drums were pounding, and her head with them. Sparsely, her head started ringing excessively, only to cease after a few seconds. Half the members of the band were overwhelmed by ale, while guests kept closing behind them the oaken door to the garden, as nature called them more than ever. But strangely, less men came back inside the hall, than those who left. I must be truly bored to notice how many men come back from pissing. Then she remembered asking her father about the Northerners, just a fortnight before she came here. She wanted to know of what character her new people would be. “There is a common jape about Northerners” her father had told her. “Do you know why one hundred northerners go to a feast, but only a third of them returns? Because most of them are found next morning sleeping on their own piss behind some bushes”. She did not laugh then, but now, it was all she could do to not burst laughing. That made her relax a little, and so she tried socializing anew. Let's try breaking the ice with Cassius, she thought and turned her head to the left. At that moment Cassius' eyes were goggling out of their sockets, witnessing something persistently. Is something wrong? she thought.

She tried to follow his gaze, and saw a woman approaching the dais. Finally, a woman in here. But still, why is he so dazed? Oh, could it be Cassius' lover?

The woman's eyes were locked on Mona's. She was a tall woman, more than half a head taller than her. She was slender, with pitch black hair and dark eyes glowing like obsidian. Her gown was plain, of blue color, matching ideally with her brown skin. She looked to be a dynamic woman. "Your Grace. You are captivating tonight. Please excuse my being absent on your wedding night. Unluckily, duty can sometimes become a hindrance." Most of the invited in fact knew the wedding would be short, cheap, and just for the traditions, so therefore, the majority of them did not come at all; including many of Mona’s relatives. Thus what the woman said took Mona by surprise.

Mona watched her smile. It was one of the prettiest she had ever seen. And it hid no hypocrisy. She must be in her early forties. And she is more beautiful than I will ever be...

The woman was now on the first of the few steps to the dais. I know this woman. It must have been a long time since I last saw her. But I definitely know her...

The woman laughed. "It's been several years since we last met. You were just a little girl, incapable of not pissing your own pants... and now, we are both Queens of contiguous kingdoms. I was sure that you must have forgotten me.”

Out of the blue, Cassius muttered: "My Queen of the West, please comfort yourself on the dais. You are an honorable guest. It is disrespectful for House Reeves and the Western Kingdom not to have their Queen seated beside us on our feast."

Oh, I am such an idiot. I should have recognized Queen Lenya and offer her a seat at once, she thought, feeling guilty. If I keep forgetting my manners, I will end up being a failure of a Queen. Oh, and that damned dizziness.

“Me and my escorting company have just arrived. I truthfully value your invitation on the high table, Cassius. But before joining you, I would prefer to relax and eat with my men. Also, the King looks like he won’t be concerned with my not sitting on the dais, it seems” she said and looked mockingly at a sleeping King Otis.

A smirk appeared on Cassius' face.

Queen Lenya caught Mona's hand with hers. "Whatever it is that you or your sister want, do not hesitate to ask me. Your family is too far now. It is not safe to send birds to your House, nor it is sure that they will even reach it. But to me, it is guaranteed that your messages won't be violated by anyone." That is true. To the Kings and their Queens, only the swiftest and faster birds were sent, so as to ensure their delivery's success. When it comes to smaller Houses like mine, they send mostly ravens, which are easier to be brought down by hungry or curious hunters. “Trust only your Guardian little girl”, she whispered in her ear to avoid any conflict with Lady Irma, "and be ready, my Queen. Some say the Curse of the Kings is back. Others claim that it is just a coincidence, but either way, survive”.

Queen Lenya moved past her until she reached Lady Irma. Their conversation was out of Mona's hearing, since King Otis’ snoring was unprecedentedly loud.

Half a year ago, Lenya's husband, King Marion Reeves, died of an unidentified illness, which luckily was not contagious. Consequently, in case that something unfortunate happens to Queen Lenya, the heritance to the Western Throne will be bestowed to the next most financially powerful house of the West, which is mine, House Qyen. That has been for centuries the rule of the inheritance to the Western Throne every time a regal pair died. That has to be... no, that is definitely the reason the North wanted me so much to be their Queen. Because I am the key to the West. They just have to wait until Queen Lenya dies. If they mind to wait actually. Otherwise, why would anyone of these people want me as their Queen? She thought.

And so she started crying…

...but no one cared. King Otis kept snoring like King Boar, Queen Lenya kept talking with Lady Irma and her husband, and even little Marcus did not seem to pay her much attention; he just ate like a piglet, licking his little hands to his heart’s content.

“Your Grace, please be quiet. Staying silent and pretending to feel no emotions is vital now, if you want to survive. If you want us to survive”. murmured her Guardian. Murmuring such things was quite unexpected to Mona. Such ejaculations made her even more curious of his true nature. But that made no difference to her, as with each minute, her situation became more and more perplexed inside her head. Tonight was an unusual night she noticed, despite her inability to explain why. There is so much I do not know about Cassius, as it looks. Those blank eyes of his. I want to see them ablaze. No. I want to set them ablaze.

"Guardian. Marcus seems to have shat himself... again. Take him to his wet nurse." said Lady Irma's husband. "Now!"

"A-a-a-as Lord Mykel commands!" said the Northern Guardian as he hurried to carry out his mission.

A quarter and a couple more minutes later, her King husband woke up. He shook his head, got a hold of himself and tried to comprehend the situation. After thinking for a few seconds, he stood up bluntly and shouted: "My dear people. Northern people. It is a pleasure to have you feast on our food this evening"

" 'Tis freakin' midnight, you drunkard", said a friend of the King's from the tables, making everyone laugh or make mocking grimaces.

"Tonight be it, dammit!" he said and coughed. "This jovial ceremony took place here tonight to honor my lovely wife, Queen Mona Elidor! The pride of the West, and now, the pride of the North!"

The key of the West, you mean.

As if bewitched, the whole dining room all of a sudden started clapping and cheering and whistling and beckoning her. Even Lady Irma was smiling, accompanied by her husband. Somewhere in the crowed, she saw Queen Lenya grinning, next to whom Marie was seated, unnoticed by Mona until then. A pity she did not reach me tonight. She is the only friend I had for the past three days, Mona thought. And the truth was that no one was closer to the girl than the young dressmaker. Both seemed to fancy each other, and were together most of the time, talking about sewing, and food, and men. Also sometimes, Mona felt aroused by Marie. The young dressmaker, of olive skin and chestnut plaited hair, had a wry smile on her face, and a weary expression.

King Otis, after having a quick break to digest all that wine, went on: “She is the prettiest Northern Queen this cold and isolated Kingdom has ever seen. Let us thank her, for bringing spring to us earlier this year, with her warm smile and aflame eyes!”

And so, the crowd started shouting altogether.

“QUEEN MONA! QUEEN MONA! QUEEN MONA!”

She blushed... and cried once again. Never has she ever felt so good... so important. She instantly loved them all. Forgave them all. Her boar of a husband, her coarse sister in law and her husband with their gown-destroying toddler. Even her father and mother, who used her as their pawn; or the simple folk who just ignored her completely half a minute past. The feeling of being loved. She allowed herself to embrace every single part of it, not caring much about its authenticity. Then she looked at the end of the room, where her Guardian happened to be. His difficult mission must be over, she thought and smiled. Muscular and excessively tall as he was, he entered her field of vision despite her consent. And then, that look on his eyes. Bizarre. A mix of disappointment, sadness, desperation, and… the ocean. He looked right into her eyes, piercing through them, reaching her mind. Bringing back memories, or creating new ones.

"Trust no one"

"You are on your own"

"Have you ever slit a throat?"