by Al K. Line
"Um, well, yes. We did," said Fionn, startled by her seriousness. "You will be ours. You will be Queen Arcene, doesn't that sound lovely? Queen Arcene, Queen Arcene."
"Queen Arcene," said Flynn, as he smiled and put out his hands to take hers.
"Queen Arcene," came the chant from the people busy constructing the idol, shouting from up high at the top of the head where a man smiled down and stuffed a handful of wheat into a grotesque approximation of an ear.
This is a nightmare, these two are absolutely mad. I should just chop their heads off now and be done with it. Arcene was tempted, but then what? How would the people react? Probably eat her for supper, that's how.
Arcene stood and stared at the twins, waiting for them to realize something they never would: you don't just decide somebody will be yours, you ask if they would like to be a part of your life, show love and affection, not tell them they will no longer be their own person. It was slavery, pure and simple.
They would never understand, and part of her didn't even blame them — it wasn't part of the world they lived in. They were rulers, could do as they pleased, and it had always been like that, or for a very long time at any rate.
All Arcene could think was: Here we go again. A man had taken her against her will before, made her lose her mind and her baby for a time, had wanted her to be a queen — he soon changed his mind once he understood that Arcene would be forever wild. No man would control her, make her act like a lady and stop her enjoying life to the limits.
Having two men tell her what she could and couldn't do didn't even bear thinking about. Especially two men that were like little children compared to her. She was the one supposed to be a juvenile, they were ancient.
"Where's Whip? Have you spoken to him about this?"
The twins looked at each other for an answer, then Flynn said, "Whip? Why would we talk to him about it? This is our decision, we talked it through between ourselves. Now, I think we better get you safely back inside, don't you? No more of this wandering around unescorted, you need to look after yourself now."
"I can take care of myself, thank you very much. I've managed this long and I don't need men telling me what to do."
Leel sensed Arcene's anger rising and moved close, the weight of her brushing against Arcene's leg a comfort, a reminder that Leel was part of their team, that individually they were dangerous but together they were invincible.
"That dog needs to go," said Fionn. "It's too big and too smelly."
"That's it, we're off." Arcene turned to leave just as a short man — although who wasn't? — came running into the field shouting for his masters. He stopped short as he reached them and panted, "Master Flynn, Master Fionn, The Butcher attacked Arcene, could have killed her. Ma'am," he said, turning to Arcene and taking off his cap, unsure what to do next.
"What!? That fool has always been unstable. We'll have his head for this, nobody puts our bride-to-be in danger."
"Um, he's dead m'lord. Lady Arcene um, sort of, er..."
"Out with it man, what?"
"Well, she chopped off his arm then slit his throat. He's very dead now." The man stared at Arcene with awe, no doubt taking in her slender frame and wondering how she could have possibly fought off the huge Butcher.
Arcene smirked and winked first at the man then at the twins. There was fear in their eyes, maybe a little respect too.
"You killed him?" asked Fionn.
"Yup, he attacked me. He had it coming. Right, I'm off." Arcene turned to leave again but Flynn grabbed her by the upper arm.
"We are so sorry Arcene, we must think of your safety. Guards." Several men who had been watching events unfold stepped forward and saluted, some rather well, others clearly new to the roles they had probably been given that day. "Please escort Lady Arcene back to her quarters, she is not to wander alone from now on. If anything happens to her it will be you held responsible. This is your job, guard her with your life or pay the consequences."
A chorus of "Yes sir!" ensued, then the men surrounded her like she was in danger.
Arcene sighed. What now? Fight? No, that was ridiculous, and it wouldn't be fair — they didn't stand a chance. An idea came to her. "Okay, look, where I come from only one man and one woman get married, so you have to choose."
"Choose? But we have decided," said Fionn, staring at his brother to see his reaction, then turning back to Arcene. "We are twins, the same. And our men often take two wives, sometimes more."
"Not where I come from. Choose." That will give me time to talk to Whip and get the hell out of here.
"We are brothers and we share," said Flynn. "But we shall think on it Arcene, we shall—"
"How big is the sacrifice gonna be?" shouted down a man from the top of the wheat statue as he pulled hard on a long spike sticking out of the head, checking it was embedded firmly.
"Do not interrupt me," shouted Flynn to the man, scowling at him.
"Sorry, didn't mean to be rude."
Flynn sighed. "That's fine. It will be a very small child. The younger the infant, the happier the marriage will be."
Arcene felt her skin prickle like a thousand bee stings and watched as her skin flushed. She felt it heat her arms and neck, rising with the anger and desperation. "Sacrifice? Child? What are you talking about?"
Flynn waved away her questions, then relented. "It is tradition that a sacrifice is made to bless the vows of those who hold prominent positions in Castle Kenyon, to give thanks to Him for watching over us. When the marriage happens the idol will be burned and the child will scream out its blessing as it returns to His embrace."
"You're going to burn a small child alive." Arcene wasn't asking a question, it was more a confirmation of what she was hearing.
The twins, the guards, the man who had brought the news, they all nodded as if Arcene was a little slow.
Maybe I should have just chopped them all up into pieces.
This was madness. Beyond madness: true insanity. "Take me to my quarters please, I've had enough of this." Arcene held herself in check and spoke to the twins. "Choose, I shall marry only one of you." With that she walked away.
The guards moved awkwardly as they tried to maintain the circle of protection around her as she walked in a daze through the beautiful wheat and the construction continued behind her — people happy with their work and the promise of more festivities to come.
Fight, Fight, Fight
"I thought we'd agreed?" whined Fionn, as he brushed at Flynn's shoulder, removing a few pieces of wheat stuck into his tunic.
"I know brother, but you heard what she said. Do you really think it best we marry her if she would not be pleased?"
"It's not up to her, and anyway, we are the rulers, we decide what happens."
"Yes, yes, I know, but..."
Fionn stared at his brother in amazement. "You're scared of her, aren't you? And you want her for yourself too."
"Come brother, no need to be like that. But she is rather ferocious isn't she? You know, I don't think anybody has ever been rude to us before, ever spoken back to us. It's rather... Exciting, that's the word. Think what the children will be like, they will be rather willful, I bet."
"You fool, haven't you looked at her properly? Looked through The Noise? She cannot have children, she has born a child, and we must ask after it, but she cannot have more. Arcene has stopped all that female stuff that goes on, halted her aging too, like us. She is forever a young woman, never to mature and never to have more children."
"Oh, I hadn't realized. But no matter," said Flynn, suddenly more animated. "Actually that's better, children are such a bore and so smelly anyway. It will be nice to rule and not have to worry about all that. And besides, we can always have one of the peasant's children, there are no end of the little brats."
"Rule? You think you can marry her and rule together, without me!?" Fionn's anger rose. He stared at his brother as if he'd just told him he no longer had a brother at all.
"No, no, de
finitely not," said Flynn, words coming out fast. "I didn't mean that, and anyway I'm just talking. We need to decide between ourselves. Let's think about it for a while, see what we think is best. The decision is ours after all, not hers."
"She is a breath of fresh air for the castle, I must say. When we first saw her I thought she would be good as a servant, maybe help to bring new blood into the castle, but now, well, she is above all that. She should have her place by our side. Or one of ours anyway." Fionn was lost in thought, a mirror image of his brother.
"Come brother, let us visit Whip. Now he is around more, and I don't know how we could have forgotten about him, we can ask his advice."
"He's just an old man, what does he know?"
"You forget that we are old too brother, and Whip is a clever man. He knows things. Think about it, it was his idea to use the paint and look what the result was. He may have more good ideas."
"Fine, but we must promise not to let Arcene come between us. We have been here for so long, a woman must always be second to us, kept in her place like Mother was."
"Of course, of course."
The twins glanced at each other when they thought the other wasn't looking while they dressed for the coolness of the evening outside of their quarters.
They knew each other as well as they knew themselves, and that meant each understood that their brother was not to be trusted in the slightest.
"She is lovely, isn't she?" said Flynn.
"Oh yes, exquisite. Come, let us hurry to talk with Whip."
Whip solidified as he stepped away from the shadows in the corridor. He smiled; things were going better than expected. The twins were smitten, drawn to Arcene like moths to a flame.
He waited a minute then followed, taking a different turn along the corridor. He walked slowly, the twins would have taken the long way to his quarters, they were useless with directions even after so many years.
They really were absolute fools.
As he sauntered back to his rooms, Whip wondered what Arcene was doing, the large idol and the "proposal" should have cemented her hatred for the twins — the end to the perfect day for her as far as Whip was concerned.
He congratulated himself on the incident with The Butcher, it couldn't have gone better if he'd planned it himself.
Whip laughed quietly at that: he had planned it. The idiot Butcher took less than five minutes to convince that Arcene needed to go — Whip knew he wouldn't stand a chance, it was a setup to show Arcene how unstable things were and to get her a little edgy. He knew the twins were planning to tell her of their marriage idea, what better way to get her in the mood for such a delightful looking future than a little bloodletting?
The twins had better watch out, they had no idea what they were in for.
Whip whistled as he walked, and did a little jig. He was becoming quite the happy man; it felt weird, but nice.
Time to Think
The promise to marry one twin had come as much of a shock to Arcene as it had to the twins, but she was thinking fast and didn't know what else to do. It gave her a little time to think at any rate — she wouldn't have been surprised if the wedding happened right there and then otherwise. They were impulsive to say the least, and so oblivious to anything around them that they took it for granted she would be happy with their idea.
She wasn't.
So, stood in a field with a massive golden likeness of herself ready to be burned along with a small child, the only thing she could come up with was to turn them against each other and give herself a little breathing space. Everything was unraveling too fast, things had changed so dramatically in the course of a single day that she couldn't keep up. Arcene was used to a more leisurely pace of life, letting ideas percolate and making the right, or wrong, decisions after due consideration.
Now she was almost out of time and it seemed like her new guards were taking their jobs rather more seriously than the men she had encountered earlier that day. After leaving the twins her guards had stayed close, too close, escorting her back to her quarters without saying a word. The twins had clearly given them instructions and they intended to carry them out — the threat of death was a great motivator.
One guard seemed like he knew what he was doing, instructing the others to keep their formation tight, and he gave orders as they moved through the castle, shoving people out of the way, even one-armed old women ineffectively brushing dirt around the floor, and at her door he told two of the men to stand guard. Arcene knew her moment of freedom was over — wherever she went she would be watched and followed, so she needed to think, to decide how to leave.
Arcene stared at her sword on the bed. How tempting to pull it from its scabbard and go on the rampage, slicing and dicing her way to freedom. But first she needed to find out how to open the gate and the drawbridge. Still, her fingers itched to grip the hilt, let the pommel swing as she dealt out death to people she suspected truly deserved her vengeance.
How soon would they decide who was to marry her? Would she hear a knock at the door any moment only to be told it was Fionn, or Flynn, and that the idol was already ablaze and a child was screaming from the top for its mother as the flames licked higher and higher?
"Ugh, what a mess."
Woof. Woof, woof!
"Hey, it's not my fault I'm so gorgeous. I seem to always have this effect on men."
It was true, Arcene had been of interest to many men over the years, men that should have known better and paid the price for what she saw as their perversions — she was always right. In a world so empty of humanity she was unique: young, beautiful and healthy. The men just didn't know that she was also strong, capable, and would allow no one to rule her life.
It was history repeating, but this time she would not be taken advantage of, would not lose herself to despair and rash decisions. She would think things through properly then take action.
No more getting "deathy" before it was the right time to do so. It would be nice to chop their heads off though.
Arcene sat cross-legged on the floor and realized she had snapped at Leel when she came for a cuddle — it was time to go, she never took out her frustrations on her friend, a sure sign she was out of sorts. Tired too, drained mentally and physically.
Had it really only been a day? Was it yesterday she was dragged from the well and found herself in this nightmare?
What time was it now?
A realization came to Arcene: there wasn't a single clock in the castle. She never wore a watch, those antique devices held in such high esteem so long ago, but they were common enough. She'd seen a number of them over the years, the best technology just before The Lethargy meant many still worked as well as the day they were made, clocks too. All manner of timepieces functioned to a greater or lesser degree, and Arcene had always found when there was a large group of people there was some form of time-keeping, the castle should have a main clock so it could be run orderly at the very least.
Arcene glanced up at the dirty window, the blue sky little more than a dirty smear across the grime of the glass. That meant the sun was probably still high, so it was early evening.
"Leel, come here girl, I'm sorry."
Leel crawled over from her place by the fire, low and ears flat to her head. Arcene ruffled her fur and whispered apologies, then cuddled her friend, giving her love, receiving it too. "I didn't mean to be angry with you, I'm all muddled up Leel, these people are very bad and very mad too. Tomorrow, tomorrow we will go. We will leave and go home to see Lucien, my little boy, your playmate. You'd like that wouldn't you?"
Leel's tail thumped like a thick length of rope against the musty rug, then rested her head in Arcene's lap and began to snore.
It's been a busy few days for the both of us. Time to go.
A rumble disturbed Arcene's thoughts, the sound taken up by her own belly — this was why she never needed a watch, their bellies told Arcene what time it was.
Six o'clock, time for food. Regular as clockwork but
without the need for those rarest of commodities: batteries.
Would somebody call her for dinner? Would they bring food? Was she supposed to eat with the twins?
Arcene sat; waited.
The sky grew dark, the sun set and night crept across the castle until it was as dark as Arcene's thoughts. Logs on the fire burned low and the room cooled but Arcene didn't move. She sat, stroking Leel's head, watching hundreds of timelines unravel, following them to endless futures, retracing and taking countless alternate paths until she saw the truth of it all, saw the path she had to take, the way events had been directed not by the twins but by another: Whip.
The twins may have been stupid and cruel but they were nowhere near as dangerous as a man who knew exactly what he was doing and would manipulate others to get what he wanted.
It was all Whip. He'd planned this, done whatever he could to make sure she became violent and turn the twins against each other, leading to chaos and the start of his own rule.
"We'll see about that Whip. I'm not some little girl you can use and discard, I'm the bringer of death, the girl who will have justice. I don't leave well alone, I take my revenge seriously and I never, ever, back down." Arcene smiled in the dark. Orange light danced across silver hair she admired as she lifted a pigtail until she frowned at the state of it. She needed a bath, but most of all she needed to go home.
"Tomorrow, we'll go home tomorrow."
Good Morning
"Morning ma'am," said the guard, as Arcene opened the door. It was hardly even light so she was surprised to see the man there, looking alert too.
"Um, morning. What you doin'?" Arcene tried to keep a straight face but failed, this would be fun.
The guard frowned then said, "I'm guarding you ma'am, like I'm supposed to."
"Great. Come on Leel, time to go for a morning walk." Leel trotted to the door and stared at the guard. Arcene watched and smiled.
He took a step back and wiped at his forehead. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I was under strict instructions to not take my eyes off you while you are in the castle. I was told that you were to be kept safe and nothing was to happen to you."
