Crowned A Traitor: A Hellish Fairytale

by Kate Callaghan

  “This would go faster if you would let me carry you?” Frendall said, and Klara shook her head.

  “I might not have a heart, but I still have my dignity,” she exhaled as they reached the top of the staircase and the King entered his office.

  “Least he didn’t notice my hair.” Klara struggled a smile.

  “Still stubborn as ever,” Frendall said.

  “Just call me Lucifer.”

  “You are nothing like him,” Frendall said, holding her waist as she went to fall forward. Klara’s mouth dropped open as she looked at the open office door.

  “Fancy your head on a spike?” Klara asked, wondering how a Commander could utter an insult only a few feet from the King’s door.

  “I didn’t mean…” judging from his panicked expression Frendall hadn’t intended to express such an opinion. Klara’s touch might not have revealed any hidden physical traits, but it was revealing his inner thoughts.

  Klara shoved him away, afraid he would say something that would get him executed.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, we are almost there,” Frendall reached out to help her, but Klara shrugged him off and pulled herself along the jewel-encrusted walls.

  “I can manage,” Klara said and avoided a portrait in case she fell into another dimension. Frendall walked beside her, “Enjoying the struggle?”

  “Go to Hell.”

  “Already here.”

  “Glad you both could make it.” The King stood behind the desk in front of his red velvet armchair. World charts lined the walls, and Klara glanced at the soul counter that sat neatly above her Father’s portrait. The numbers were slowly increasing with every passing second.

  “Move any slower, and you will be on that counter,” Frendall whispered in her ear. “Even dying she won’t accept help,” Frendall said to the King, and Lucifer exposed his white teeth.

  “My daughter is a fighter. I expect nothing less.”

  Klara slumped against the armchair opposite the desk, not daring to sit without permission.

  “As much as I enjoy being talked about as if I’m not here,” she wheezed, “I would enjoy a new heart more.”

  “It’s a pity she lacks patience,” Lucifer said as he walked alongside the shelves riddled with historical texts and grimoires. “I wonder why that is,” Klara replied.

  Lucifer pulled on a copy of Dante’s Inferno, and with a loud crank, a wooden panel dropped from the wall, exposing a row of small chests.

  “Now let’s see what we have here,” Lucifer said opening and closing chest after chest. For the love of God, how long does it take to find a heart! Frendall went to support her as her arm slipped from the arm of the chair.

  “Don’t,” Klara growled, and Frendall went to wait by the door, his frame rigid once again but she was doing it for his own protection.

  “Perfect! Just created this one last week, super fresh. Not identical to your own but the ingredients were pretty much the same,” Lucifer said taking the glowing red heart from the chest. The vibrant heart pulsed in his hand and as she focused in on its call, she heard the steady beat pounding in her ears. Klara pulled herself from the chair and exposed her wound.

  “This is going to sting a little,” Lucifer said, and she heard the smile on his lips. He saw her suffering as another lesson in readying her for her throne. Any sign of weakness and he would only prolong it.

  “Get on with it,” Klara said, and Lucifer thrust his hand into her chest. Klara let out a roar as her veins weaved their way into the new heart. The room disappeared, and she was afraid her body would splinter if her suffering went on for another second.

  “Breathe daughter,” Lucifer’s voice echoed through the white space as she wanted to rip the organ from her chest. She sank to the floor as a pulse coursed through her. “Is she rejecting it?”

  Klara heard Frendall behind her, but his voice was muffled and distant. “No, otherwise her screams would be heard on Earth.”

  Klara forced herself to ignore the pain and the men in the room as her magic tried to find any ill intent within the new heart. Klara had her answer as the pain subsided and all she could feel was a tingling sensation in her hands and arms. The soft maroon carpet cradled her weak body, and violent red hair covered her face, exposing the depths of her pain.

  Lucifer gripped her hair, forcing her to look at him.

  “This is forbidden,” The King’s eyes were black as he released his grasp on her roots and Klara collapsed back onto the carpet.

  “This is why…” Lucifer ranted, “you cannot conceal what you feel— Do you want to die!” Lucifer paced beside her. Klara felt the rage radiating from him as her body tried to pull her to sleep.

  “The wigs…” Frendall started, and she opened her eyes to see Frendall shielding her from Lucifer’s path.

  “See to it.”

  Klara didn’t know who spoke because the floor turned to waves beneath her body. “Take her to her room,” was the last order she heard before slipping away.

  ~5~

  Thump, thump, thump, the beat in Klara’s ears startled her, and she jerked forward. A thin sheet dropped from her body. Klara’s eyes adjusted to the beams of Hell’s blood-red moon drifting over her. Her childhood room sat around her untouched. After Klara fled from her last visit, she was surprised her Father hadn’t ordered the Doomed to strip the room.

  Klara pulled her t-shirt, exposing the healed pink skin at the centre of her chest. Her fingers grazed over the tender skin as Klara noticed her jumper and jacket beside her. She couldn’t face putting them on as the thin blanket was enough to stifle her in Hell’s heat.

  “Heiress?” A Doomed in a white robe said as she came in through the door. “I’m to see you dressed.” The Doomed rose her eyes and Klara could see the terror in them.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Klara said, but the Doomed bowed her head and remained still.

  Klara stretched her arms and groaned; her muscles were tight from sleep and dehydration. “Bring it here,” Klara ordered softly as not to frighten the girl. The Doomed placed a jug on the bedside table, and Klara saw the scars on the girls face and hands.

  “I won’t need your services while I’m here,” Klara said, and the Doomed hesitated by her bed.

  “On the Commander’s orders, I am to assist you,” the Doomed’s words were barely a whisper. Frendall has sent a spy, Klara’s eyes searched the girl. With her hair covered in white cloth, Klara wondered how old she was.

  “Please Heiress. I will serve you well. The Commander will be displeased if I return to Quarters,” she said, gripping her hands together tightly.

  Maybe Frendall has become my Father’s beast. The Doomed was barely in her teens when she entered Hell and must have been here over a century to rise to the position of Handmaid.

  “I relieve you, there will be no punishment,” Klara reached into her pocket and pulled a small silver coin from the pouch. If the Torturers question the girl, this will silence them.

  “For services rendered,” Klara winked, and the Doomed girl hesitated, her hands gripped at her chest.

  “Take it,” Klara said, and placed the coin in her lashed hand. Thievery must be her sin; her hands have been torn apart and put back together.

  Klara pitied the Doomed, “If anyone asks, you are to send them to me and me only.”

  “I will leave you then,” The girl backed away slowly before rushing through the door. Klara took the jug in her hands and eyed the water. Poisoned? Frendall wouldn’t dare, and she was too thirsty to think on it. She downed the contents feeling the iced water slip through her veins.

  “See to it.” Lucifer’s words echoed through her, and Klara gripped her scalp, grateful her locks remained. She thought it would have been shaved in her sleep, but instead, her magic and new heart had restored her hair to black.

  Klara’s eyes drifted to the carousel on the dresser and saw that it was free from dust, someone is still cleaning my room. Klara moved to the carousel and touched the ru
by at the base. Sweet music filled the room, and she looked at the mirror behind the spinning antique. Her dark green eyes stared back at her as she dropped the concealing glamour and spread her wings. Klara kept her eyes on the floor as her palms brushed her wings. She pictured the decapitated heads of Dario and Lucius, and yet her wings remained soft and light, not the leather she had been expecting. Her eyes flashed from black to white as another glamour slipped away.

  Klara’s eyes had never matched her Father’s, and she figured a simple glamour would protect them both. She had taken the lives of the Ghouls, and yet her white feathers and eyes remained. The Creatures were far from innocent, maybe that’s what saved me from Father’s black leather wings.

  Klara felt a presence behind the door and her wings folded within her. The knock came as expected, and Klara silenced the carousel.

  “The King sends a Doomed every day to maintain your room,” Frendall said, standing in the doorway with his arms folded. “The same Doomed you gave this too,” he said, holding up a silver coin.

  “That was mine to give,” Klara scolded, and Frendall tossed it to her.

  “The Doomed handed it over to me, she knows the Doomed keep no coin, you endangered her position here.”

  “Isn’t it lucky the poor thing ran into you then?” Klara said, to argue with the rules of Hell was futile. She looked at his tailored suit and the leather strap across his body that held his sword to his side.

  “You are going to want to remove that.” Frendall pointed at the crystal around her neck.

  “It’s for my own protection.”

  “Trust me. At least put it somewhere it won’t be noticed.”

  “A little glowing crystal never hurt anyone.”

  “Are you going to fight me every step of the way?”

  Klara heard soft panting and looked around the room. “Nice try,” she said, reaching out to Frendall’s side.

  Rough fur met her palms, and the Hounds appeared. They pushed past Frendall as Klara knelt to stroke them.

  “Will you take it off?” Frendall said, shaking his head as she spoiled the panting Hounds.

  Klara wanted to change the topic from her neckwear. She had so much to ask him, but she couldn’t find the words. “Fine. Consider it gone.” Klara released the clasp and slipped the small crystal into her pocket.

  “I’ll just have to bring my axe,” she said, and Frendall looked defeated. My Axe. Her eyes darted around the room, but it wasn’t here. “It’s in the King’s possession.”

  “Then I’ll just have to go and get it.”

  “No weapons, the Heir of Hell shouldn’t need them in her home,” Frendall stated. Klara didn’t like the thought of her axe being held captive. It meant she couldn’t leave in a moment’s notice and she would need it for her escape from Malum.

  “Maybe you want to hurt me.”

  “There are a few things I would like to do to you,” Frendall muttered. “Is that a threat?” Klara snapped, and he grabbed the back of his neck.

  “I see Lilith beat the sense of humour out of you.”

  “Probably, along with a few teeth.”

  There was an awkward silence as neither knew what to say next.

  “Others will be arriving soon,” Frendall said, and she resisted the urge to run.

  From the crowded reception at the gate, word of Klara’s visit would have gotten out by now. “You are going to ruin them,” Frendall said, and the Hound’s hopped onto her bed and circled until they settled laying on top of each other.

  “Down!” Frendall ordered, and the Hounds turned their snouts to Klara. “They aren’t hurting anybody,” she said, and he clasped his hands behind his back.

  “They won’t hurt anyone if you keep spoiling them.”

  One of the Hounds let out a defiant bark and Klara couldn’t help but smile as Frendall shook his head in dismay.

  “Was there something else?” Klara asked, leaning against the dresser. “Lucifer asked me to…” Frendall stopped, and she saw the cutthroat razor in his hand.

  “The sooner we start, the quicker it will be over.”

  Klara felt her heart sink as a deep blue cascaded through her hair. Frendall’s eyes drifted over her, and she could feel his concern.

  “I haven’t regained my full strength so I can’t control it as much,” Klara said. “I’m guessing everything in this room is the same?”

  Klara went to the wardrobe and pulled open the doors, and there they were. Her wigs, except gone were the bright colours her Father had gifted her as a child. Now sat simple varying lengths of black hair on blank faces while an emerald dress hung on the back of the door—the deep colour highlighting her status.

  “You arranged these,” Klara asked, not looking away from the collection.

  “A Witch created them last minute, and she assured me that they will appear natural once placed,” Frendall said. “You can’t go to a banquet with the High Demons like this, one wrong emotion, and they will see weakness.”

  Klara wondered if he was protecting her or the Heir of Hell.

  “The dress is also required.”

  Frendall cleared his throat and Klara let the heavy fabric run through her hands as she clasped the corseted waist. Abadan would drop dead of shock if she were to see me in a gown so similar to the style she prefers. The thought almost made it worth wearing. Klara slammed the wardrobe door, “I’d be more comfortable in my own clothes.”

  Frendall walked over to the wardrobe and removed the dress from the hook. “Your t-shirt is caked in blood, and your trousers are filthy from the Fall.” He handed her the dress, and Klara threw it on the bed over the Hounds. They growled as the fabric draped over them.

  “I see the Queens haven’t been successful in taming you.”

  “A ruler doesn’t need taming.”

  Klara reminded Frendall of his place as they squared off inches from each other. She met his eye even though he stood a foot taller than her.

  “Hair will grow back,” Frendall said, stepping back from her. “That’s not the point,” Klara said under her breath.

  There would be plenty of battles ahead, and she couldn’t afford to waste energy on this one. Cutting her hair was a show of good faith and she needed her Father’s trust if she was to return to the Queens unscathed. Klara went back to the mirror, and her hair flashed through an array of colours until finally settling back to black. She grabbed a few bands from the dresser and started sectioning her hair as she had done as a child.

  Frendall watched in silence as she outstretched her hand for the razor, “Fun while it lasted.”

  With the cutthroat, Klara sliced through the lengths of bound hair until hair pooled at her feet. Frendall watched in the mirror as the jagged cropped hair shifted to a dull blue. Frendall muttered a few words and a stool appeared in front of the mirror.

  “Take a seat and I’ll finish it, you’ll need help with the back,” Frendall said, razor in hand and she stared at her reddened eyes. Don’t even think about crying in front of him, Klara chastised herself, brushing the fallen hair from the dresser onto the floor. One of the Hounds hopped down from the bed and placed his head on her lap, trying to comfort her.

  The scrape of the cutthroat on the back of her neck made her feel like she was seven years old again. Only now, Frendall stood in her Father’s place.

  “Never thought you would be doing this,” Klara said as he moved the blade around her ear and she stilled, afraid he would nick her. Frendall was skilled and light with the knife, she only felt the cool steel instead of a harsh scrape.

  “Why let it grow out? Why insist on breaking a direct order?” Frendall asked, and she looked at his cold eyes in the mirror.

  “What if someone altered you every other week, made you feel like an oddity? All because of a gift Lucifer himself gave me.”

  “The King wanted you to be able to see through your enemies.”

  Klara brushed his hands from her shoulders.

  “He wanted me to be abl
e to spot his enemies, to soothe his paranoia. I’m the one who pays the price.”

  “Not if you follow the rules,” Frendall huffed, and she hated his devout loyalty to the King.

  “No gift comes without cost, I can reveal what others hide, but I can’t hide either.”

  Klara lifted her hands to catch the last few strands of hair. Years of patience taken away in a matter of minutes. “I could have worn a wig over my hair.”

  “We both know the King would have checked and then we would both be at the end of a pitchfork.” Frendall evened out the last of the rough patches.

  “Least it’s a bit cooler in this heat,” Klara said, smoothing her hands over her prickly scalp. Klara looked away from her reflection, not because she thought she looked awful but because it made her feel powerless.

  “I’ve seen worse,” Frendall winked, and Klara shoved her elbow into his side. He feigned injury as he put the cutthroat in its shield.

  “Why did you join the ranks? I thought you were going to leave for the Human plane?” Frendall moved away from her back. “It’s a long story.”

  “What? You decided to start following orders?” Klara asked, brushing the hair from her shoulders.

  “They will be waiting for us,” Frendall said as he became cold and distant once again, “get dressed.”

  “I’m not wearing that damn thing.” Klara blocked him from leaving.

  “The wig or the dress?” he frowned.

  “Does it matter?”

  “We need to go. The King won’t appreciate tardiness.”

  “Not until you tell me why you stayed?” Klara stood inches from him knowing he wouldn’t move her out of the way for fear of losing control of his tongue.

  Frendall took off his sword and jacket, tossing them onto her bed and started to unbutton his shirt. Klara didn’t know where to look as his eyes remained on hers. At the first glimpse of his chest, she turned her back.