The air was hot and dry.
September visited her garden uninvited like it did each year. Hoping for the same admiration it received when she was a girl, it brought all its colors, tangled up in a series of magnificent sounds. But it was not welcome anymore. Every change of season reminded her of the time she could never get back. She wished, now more than ever, that the rusty clock of her innocence would turn its course and let her choose once more. She wished, knowing nothing would ever change. All roads before her, unmarked, led to the same heavy burden. To the same pair of bloody hands. She could see, through the transparent veil that covered her entirely, how her own soft fingers enwrapped the gold cutlery and delicately, not more than a tad too forcefully, cut the meat in halves. And he didn’t even look at her light motions and sensitive looks. She longed for the tingle of emotion that brought her to his rooms.
"You are not hungry?"
"So it seems."
The king put his cutlery on his plate and smiled mockingly. "Foolish."
Queen Maria of Crystalia rubbed her tired face with her gentle hands. She hadn't been able to close her eyes for more than a moment ever since their daughter had decided the time had come to wrestle with her faith and left without saying goodbye. Even the dining room, beautifully decorated in gold and emerald that Maria always admired, seemed boring and monotonous without her daughter's voice to fill the gaps of mistrust.
She blamed him, he didn't listen.
She cried, he looked away.
She left, he didn't move a finger.
Maria Hunster couldn't, though she tried, pin the moment of his changing. She tried hard to fix the shattered pieces of the diamonds around her neck and finger, but he took them and created a crown instead. It hovered over her even when she slept: the circle of riches glued together by fear.
“Do you think Diane will come back soon?” Maria asked her husband. A servant dropped some spoons or knives in the kitchen and Maria flinched when the roar of the marble floor invaded her dining table. She put her hands on the silken cloth and distracted herself with the question of its origin while she waited for Brandon to stop chewing the undercooked steak. He had some blood on his lips.
“Will she come back at all is the real question,” he replied. He wiped his mouth and left the handkerchief on the table where it stained the silk Maria was holding onto.
“How can you say something like that? How can you even think about it?” she whispered, now sweating; too much sunlight was coming in through the balcony door.
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“I am preparing myself,” he replied. “You should too. We both know there are two ways in which this can end: she either kills or gets killed. Either way, Diane is not coming back.”
There was something in the way in which the curtains cast shadows on the floor to Maria’s right; it all made the room seem much greater. She could still hear the clanking from the distance, only repeating in cycles.
He doesn’t mean it.
“Do you not remember what we promised each other when her powers manfested?” Brandon said, leaning onto the table so his voice would reach her better.
“That we would protect her?”
He smiled. “That we would protect her destiny. Because it is bigger than any of us.”
Maria’s eyes widened. “Are you saying I am standing in her way?”
“You are standing in Her way. And that is even worse. Get your act together and stop causing trouble. I mean it, Maria. Don’t push your fingers where they don’t belong.”
Maria’s legs trembled. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Brandon. I truly don’t. I only hope you will come back to your senses before it is too late.”
A vicious September it was. Too yellow, too warm, too dull. She didn’t wish for a change, though, only routine. But seasons don’t dare please sinners.
“I am only reminding you of what transpired five years ago. Any more foolishness on our side and everything could…”
"I think I will ask a maid to bring the rest to my room. I feel like taking a walk now," Maria said and quickly stood up.
"As you wish.” Brandon leaned back and started peacefully spilling blood all over his plate.
Maria’s long, light purple cape dragged behind her as she walked through the familiar corridors. She had been living in the castle for decades, yet never truly got to know its soul and wishes. After all, she was the one who fell in love with The King of Stone. Despite people's harsh words and contempt for the girl of no status or power, he protected and cared for her. But he was cold and untrusting. And so, he pushed his only daughter, his heiress, into something he believed couldn't be avoided. Deep down, Maria also knew the stars are not to be interfered with. But she never wanted glory. Peace and security: he had promised them both yet gifted none. Constantly living in fear of losing her precious Diane, the child she cherished with all her heart and soul, Maria grew even weaker.
How I wish September had never come!
And so, the queen sat in the corner of her bedroom and cried. For how long, no one knew but her. She cried for the broken dreams of once a young girl. Too naive to understand, she carried the weight of the world on her fragile back.
No, she's not fragile anymore. She hasn't been for a while now.
Somebody knocked on her door. Maria quickly wiped off her tears and, putting her crown back on said: “Come in.”
And a guard did, with a letter in his hand; the familiar cursive covered the envelope without a seal. When Maria pushed the letter into her pocket, the guard looked at her with confidentiality and let her know that His Majesty the King would be there soon. It seemed, the guard relayed, that he wished to talk about some urgent matters. Some histories. Some futures. Some kings and queens and princesses who never truly knew what it meant to save the world. Only that a little girl, a little grown girl, would have to do it for them.
Maria put her hands together and looked at the painted ceiling. "Please, let her come back alive."