“So, you do speak,” Agnes drawled. “Certainly, I am nothing but merciful. You can eat anything you can find… though the last time I checked the shelves were bare. There is a dead rat in one of the cupboards, perhaps that would sate your appetite,” Agnes mischievously taunted the boy. “Your mother will be home soon with some food and if she is not, let us just say, that you won’t have to worry about ever feeling hungry again…” She cackled, a wicked grin painted across her face, her teeth gleaming.
The boy’s pupils dilated as he fully comprehended the danger that he was in. What he had felt prior was fear. He realised now he truly knew what it meant to feel terror.
*
The moon shone overhead, and the town’s emergency bells had been chiming loudly throughout the evening. A good omen, Agnes thought to herself. A strong easterly wind was blustering throughout the alps. Snow fell heavily, the combination making visibility in the dead of night near impossible even with a torch or exceedingly good navigational skills. Given the current weather conditions, she allowed the healer a little longer before deciding what to do with the boy. The boy had passed out from fatigue or lack of sustenance a few hours earlier, which made his presence more bearable now that he was unconscious.
‘The only good child is a sleeping child. Honestly, who would want to be a mother…’
The creaking of the front steps drew Agnes from her thoughts as a moment of anticipation filled her soul. With a loud thump and kick flinging open the front door, in walked the healer carrying what appeared to be a person wrapped in a bundle of linen. Antoinette collapsed to her knees from exhaustion, an unconscious woman falling in a heap on the floor, the linen pulling away from her face to reveal Princess Anastasia.
The loud thud roused Arthur from his deep sleep. Through his bleary eyes, from his position on one of the single sitting room chairs, Arthur beheld his mother. The sight instantly jolted Arthur into alertness as he stumbled quickly over to his mother and collapsed on her lap, throwing his arms around her, heaving tears. Antoinette remained slumped on the floor, her healer’s uniform stained in dirt and blood, but Agnes did not care.
“That is not Annalyse!” Agnes shrieked.
*
Antoinette
Antoinette threw herself over her son’s body protectively. She had no strength left to move another inch after carrying the sleeping Princess for miles from the castle down to her home. Her journey began down a staff secret passage carrying the lifeless Princess wrapped in a bundle of linen. Sneaking her out of the castle grounds to make her way back home, the healer dodged guard patrols and avoided the main areas of town to avoid raising more suspicion. She was mentally and physically exhausted, but she vowed to herself that with the last of her strength she would not go down without a fight. She would try to protect her son until her very last breath.
Antoinette shielded her son in her arms from Agnes as much as she could, and from her position still slumped on the ground, the healer raised her head and with her last ounce of bravery declared, “take it or leave it. I have done all I can. Now release me and my son and I swear on the Goddess herself that I will not breathe another word of this. I will take my son and we will leave Alearia and never return.”
Agnes tilted her head to the left, then to the right, analyzing the healer. Her mind surely rolling over ways to punish Antoinette for her insolence.
“What happened?” Agnes finally asked with a deathly calm demeanor, and so Antoinette told her story.
~ ◊ ~
12
Queen Amealiana
In her palace suite, the Queen sat in stunned silence as Annie revealed that her twin was missing. An alert had soon after sounded around the city and all available non-essential guards were ordered out on patrols to search the castle and city proper for any sign of the missing Princess. Princess Alecia herself took charge and led one of the city’s search parties, desperate to find her closely bonded sister.
The Queen sprang into action, sprinting to her daughter’s room, followed by her lady’s maid Lady Margarette, in search of a beloved item of the Princess that she could use to help trigger a vision of the Princess’s whereabouts. Flicking through the Princess’s wardrobe and snatching Anastasia’s preferred lavender day dress, the Queen held it up to her face and inhaled the blessed lingering scent of her darling daughter.
“Goddess I beseech thee. Please holy one, reveal to me the whereabouts of my beloved Anastasia. I have lost her once this week, I will not lose her again,” Queen Amealiana vowed.
Clutching the soft material of the dress, the Queen focused her concentration on the item and the scent of her daughter that flowed from the garment. Her vision clouded over as her Goddess given prophetic gifting began to reveal a vision to her.
Anastasia was tied to a double wooden bed with thick chains stretching both her arms and legs taught. The room was dark; a single candle shining on the bedside table. The wind howled against the small glass window frame. Agnes stood over her captive sister and dumped bucket after bucket of mushy snow over the barely conscious, moaning Princess… Presumedly to hinder her fire-wielding gifting. Superficial wounds could be seen along the Princess’s mostly bare legs and arms. Her soaked dress clung to her body, making the Princess appear even more frail and thin than usual.
Anastasia was a warrior in her own right, though many people often forgot that, but the vision Queen Amealiana saw was of a woman who had little left to give — of a young woman who, despite all odds, and all that she had previously survived, was now struggling to hold on. Anastasia appeared as though she could take no more. As though she had finally been defeated. The Queen’s heart broke at the image of her suffering beloved daughter. Queen Amealiana focused on the vision once more despite the pain it caused her to look for any identifying factors that may help to locate her daughter.
In the vision, Agnes turned to face the Queen as though she expected her to be present as she declared: “If you want to see your precious Anastasia alive again, absolve me of all my crimes and bring me Annalyse. I will not kill either of your precious twins if you do as I say. We have unfinished business, Annalyse and I,” Agnes cackled. “Bring her to the graveyard tomorrow at sunrise. Only you and your pathetic Heir may come. If I see any signs of palace guards or any of the other family, you will never see your precious Anastasia again.” The vision faded before Amealiana’s eyes.
‘Holy Goddess! That clever little witch is using my visions to communicate. Is there no limit to her cruelty?’
“Margarette, summon Annalyse and Alecia to my chambers immediately, and tell no one else. We have plans to make,” Queen Amealiana shuddered.
*
Princess Anastasia
Anastasia lay helplessly on the bed. Whatever tonic the healer had given her had neutralized her giftings in addition to rendering her unconscious. Anastasia struggled to recall how she had come to be in this room, or how she had acquired the wounds to her limbs that stung when kissed by the snow that Agnes ritualistically threw over her to ensure that her powers remained nullified. The sheets felt ice cold from the frequent drenching. An unfamiliar sensation for the fire-wielding Princess. During an earlier moment of consciousness, Anastasia recalled seeing the healer cower in the corner of the bedroom, huddled over who she presumed was her son. The next time she roused to consciousness the woman and her child were gone, a trail of blood left in their wake. Anastasia had no idea where they had gone, or if they were still alive but she would think more about that another time. Now was the time to draw upon her training, to reach deep within and draw out any ounce of courage and strength she possessed. Now was the time to be brave, to survive.
‘If I had access to my powers, I would dry myself and this frigid bed and transform into a creature that could break free of these damned chains. I set Agnes free and this is how she repays me for my mercy. What a fool I was to have thought that my kindness could change her, bring her back to the light, grant her a clean slate. She is deranged beyond reas
on. Grandfather was right, the Agnes I knew is gone forever and there is no way for her to come back. Her sanity was exchanged for her frivolous expenditure of her gifting for selfish vengeful purposes. She doesn’t deserve the second chance I gave her. This woman, this shell of a human, is not my sister. She is a mad woman, destroyed by her own envy and need for revenge…’
‘How can I get out of here, how can I escape? I am a warrior; I do not need to rely on my powers to survive. For now, I just need to breathe, resist my building anxiety and look for an opportunity to escape. I am strong, I am brave. On my darkest days, I will look to the light. Even if today seems hopeless, I know deep down in my fractured soul, that someday soon I will find myself again. I will feel joy again. I will cling to that sliver of hope that each new day brings. I am strong. I will get through this. This is not the end. I will escape.’
~ ◊ ~
13
Agnes
The snowstorm had died down, and several feet of fresh snow lay in its wake. The moon was high in the still overcast night sky. Agnes dressed in the peasants’ hunting clothing and a pair of Antoinette’s fur-lined rabbit skin boots to help keep out the chill. To avoid identification on her travels, Agnes had smudged soot across her face to help disguise her features, tied a thick scarf around the lower half of her face and tugged her hair beneath the hood of the hunter’s warm winter coat.
In the wooden cart lay a gagged Princess Anastasia, her hands and feet tied together with metal chains. No matter how much Anastasia tried to scream, only a muffled sound on the cloth gag could be heard. Agnes piled several layers of animal furs over the Princess, hiding her from peeping eyes. Agnes hoped the guise of heading off to the morning markets would avoid any suspicion as to why she was out so early in the morning. The first rays of daylight were no-where in sight.
Agnes brought the peasant family’s lone horse around from the small side stable. She attached the horse to the cart before assuming her position upon the wooden bench seat. With a whip of the reigns, the horse lurched into a canter, pulling the open top, wooden cart from the farmer’s cottage, through the forest and down the snow covered, dirt road around the outskirts of the city proper. The mountainous Kingdom, coupled with the deep fresh snow, made the trek slow and slippery, the cart threatening to topple if the horse went too fast. Multiple times the cart got caught in the snow and the wheels needed to be dug out, much to Agnes’s utter frustration. Deciding that the cover story was more effort than it was worth, Agnes unhitched the wagon from the horse, heaved Anastasia out of the cart and threw her over the back of the horse, piling the furs over her body, hiding her once more from curious onlookers’ eyes. Jumping into position on the horse behind Anastasia, Agnes urged the horse into a gallop to make up time, the first light of dawn starting to peak over the horizon.
*
Queen Amealiana
The crisp morning air normally awakened the Queen and invigorated her with a sense of renewed energy. Today the cold air soaked through to Amealiana’s bones as she was filled with anxiety and apprehension about the coming meeting with her eldest daughter, turned traitor to the crown. The Queen and Annie slunk in the shadows of one of the old oak trees surrounding the perimeter of the cemetery. Gravestones as old as the first settlement of Alearia, almost 450 years ago, could be found scattered amongst the graveyard. Nearby, the Queen could see a particularly old and neglected gravestone, withered away by time and the intense climatic conditions of the rugged mountainous Kingdom. The descendants of the deceased long since passed, with no one left alive who would remember them or come to pray for their souls. The idea of a graveyard was still quite strange to the Queen, even after living in the Kingdom of Alearia for most of her life.
Having been raised in Quillencia, her home country’s tradition dictated that all deceased be honored through the fire burning ceremony. The tradition allowed the deceased’s final sins to be cleansed away and their remaining soul allowed to freely pass with the Goddess from this world into the next. The Queen often wondered how the Goddess collected souls from the people of Alearia if they had not had a chance to be cleansed in the holy Goddess’s flame. However, she kept her musings to herself as Alearia was her home and their traditions were now her own, no matter how puzzling they may seem to her.
The graveyard was on the outskirts of the city proper, downhill from the city’s water supply to ensure the water was not contaminated by the remnants of the fallen. The cemetery itself was originally quite small, but as the population had swelled thanks to the healers’ giftings, people were living longer and procreating more often, praise the Goddess, and thus the graveyard had grown along with the population. What was once a small cleared area was now the size of a small acreage, the area surrounded by the old oak trees that guarded the city and castle from invaders, making the terrain more difficult to traverse, and concealing most of the city from prying eyes.
The Queen’s horse Ebony, sniffed around the tree, looking for any sustenance to feed upon while it patiently waited for its master to attend to her business. The Queen wore a long black cloak, the hood pulled low over her face, concealing her identity from prying eyes. Not that anyone was around this early in the morning, but the Queen remained cautious and vigilant all the same. Annalyse wore a similar cloak as advised by her mother. Both women — scarcely trained in combat or defense — were wary that they were likely walking into a trap, but it was a chance that the Queen had to take to bring her beloved Anastasia home. The Queen was no fool though, her sage wisdom had guided her to make a backup plan for their protection. Hidden on the opposite side of the cemetery, upon a tall tree’s snow-covered branch, crouched Princess Alecia, dressed in white to camouflage herself amongst the snow. Her weapons remained concealed under her clothing, her fire-wielding gifting simmering beneath her skin, at the ready for any sign of betrayal from Agnes should she attempt to harm any of her family.
It was unclear to Amealiana why her eldest daughter had kidnapped poor Anastasia in the first place, but she highly suspected what Agnes would want from Annie in exchange for her sister’s safe return. The thought made her anxiety peak. Giving Agnes any more power would be disastrous and a risk they were not willing to take. therefore, it was crucial that the Queen find another way to retrieve her daughter without giving into the traitor’s demands.
A crunch in the snow was the first sign of Agnes’s arrival. Approaching from behind them in the forest, a horse stalked towards the awaiting royals. Agnes sat straight-backed upon the horse, a large mass slumped across the saddle in front of her, presumably Anastasia. The Queen’s heart rate quickened as she began to fear the worst for her daughter.
‘Holy Goddess, please let my Anastasia be alright. Help us to all escape my evil daughter’s intentions. Help her to see the error of her ways, and if there is any way to heal her then please do it,’ Queen Amealiana silently beseeched the Goddess.
The Queen pushed Annie behind her protectively, leaving herself exposed to the approaching traitor. A concealed blade hidden in her boot was her only form of immediate defense against any potential attacks. Amealiana felt her youngest daughter trembling behind her. Though, she knew that Annie was doing her best to put on a brave, confident front.
‘If only Annie wasn’t so scared of using her mind conqueror abilities, she could eliminate the threat that is Agnes once and for all. But I understand it completely. Annie’s gifting has a cost and to use her mind conqueror gifting for anything other than healing would go against every moral code she possesses. How could I ever judge her for her decency and morals? She is the future hope of our Kingdom and I will protect Annie at all costs. Agnes will not have her,’ Queen Amealiana promised herself.
Agnes elegantly jumped down from her horse, dressed in common peasant wear, holding the reigns of her horse in one hand and unsheathing a dagger from her hip with the other. A smirk crept across her face, her eyes menacing as if any trace of the empathetic Princess she once was had been replaced by this shadow of a pe
rson driven by revenge.
“Stop where you are!” Queen Amealiana ordered as Agnes approached, with a fierceness that none of her daughters had ever seen. “We have come as you requested. Now hand over my daughter,” the Queen spoke fearlessly. Her need to protect her children her sole driving force.
Agnes ignored her mother and continued to slowly creep towards the Alearian royals, until she was a mere ten feet away from them. “I believe I am in the position of power here mother,” Agnes spat, the title tasting like dirt upon her tongue. “Hand over the Heir and I will give you back your other precious twin.”
“Never!” The Queen declared, “you may have whatever you want, but I am not here to trade one daughter for another. Return my daughter to me and we will allow you to leave peacefully. It will be as though we never saw you. I do not want to see you dead my daughter, but you are forcing our hand with your ceaseless cruelty. You are beautifully cruel my child, not a good trait for anyone to possess and I am deeply sorry that I have failed in my duty as your mother to raise you into a strong selfless woman.”
Agnes barked a sinister, mocking laugh. “Ha! Your words are worthless to me. You dare threaten me Amealiana! You dare criticize my choices, my morals, when it is you who has clearly chosen your other Goddess blessed children over me. Nothing has changed all these years. You still think yourself almighty and honorable. You do not deserve to be Queen and she,” Agnes spat, directing her attention to Annie, shivering behind her mother, “does not deserve to be the Queen! I should be Queen! I am the only one who has what it takes to rule a Kingdom, to make the tough decisions. In time you will see how wrong you all were in appointing her as your Heir. I am merely here to speed up the process. Hand over Annalyse, or I will slit Anastasia’s neck right here, right now and there is nothing you can do to save her.”
A Queen's Fate Page 6
