Intermission #4

The Pact

 

Ambition, no matter how carefully planned, can sometimes come with a high price and sometimes that ambition may cross lines, cost lives, divide family and turn best friends into bitter enemies.

Driven by desire a passionate lust to rule, to grasp the ultimate power of The Child of Prophecy. Fendor had killed and betrayed. He had turned against a King he had been loyal to for all of his life. He had faked alcoholism while planning assassinations. He had turned to black magic, got an innocent woman pregnant and then carelessly discarded her for another woman, stealing that child and raising her along side his new son.

A master manipulator who had taken some extreme measures to secure the throne. One such action was a Pact with a hell-spawn Demon many years ago to create this deception and guide him along his path to success.

The Beast with no name was a higher demon, reigning over several realms of chaos, powerful, magnificent, alluring, ancient. He was attracted to Fendor’s desire by his promise to deliver to the demon the Child of Prophecy. It was a high price to pay, the girl would need to be reincarnated into a pure virginal body and handed over to The Beast upon her thirteenth year.

When Fendor and his wife  conceived the boy he had desired and the little girl was a sweet six years old… The beast with no name attended the celebrations at Fenroux Palace.

Clad in a suit of sapphire coloured crushed velvet, tall and hansom, dark hair slicked back and clipped at the nape of his neck, his human persona caused heads to turn among the women (and some men) in the court. His eyes flared with a rich amber light, pupils horizontal, such as a goats. Behind his smile was hidden several rows of sharp needle pointed teeth. Fendor knew as soon as he sighted the stranger among the celebrants who he was as the beast drew closer to bid blessings upon the Prince.

By the crib the petite half sister, Ataraxia stood in a dainty dress, she also knew the true nature of The beast as he stepped forth and shuffled to hide herself behind her Step-Mothers legs, clinging to the layers of her dress, watching the stranger with fear and awe.

“What are you doing here?” Fendor whispered harshly under his breath.

“Your son, he is the final part of our pact.” The Demon reminded Fendor, speaking softly, so only The King could hear his words.

“You said thirteen years, it has been six!” Desperation crept into his tone.

“I am not here to collect any price Your Highness, not for another seven years. I am here with a humble request…” He purred softly.

“What is it?” Fendor spoke urgently.

“I want to name your son, he has breath because of my magic, your bride is well beyond child baring age, my power has granted you your Prince, I want to grant him his name.”

“How will I get my wife to accept that?”

“Not my problem, how you handle your woman is your business Fendor. I merely desire to name the boy.” The Demon handed over lavish gifts, as any other guest.

“What? What is his name to be?” The King graciously accepted the hamper.

“Ataxia.” The Beast replied, glancing at Ataraxia.

The tiny girl hid her face from the goat-like stare of the stranger in blue.

Reluctantly Fendor agreed…

The Beast with no Name bowed low, respectfully to the Royal Family and turned to merge into the celebrations, instantly surrounded by exotic curious ladies drawn to his beauty, giggling behind their fans. The Beast decided he was going to enjoy himself at this party, determined to make the most of his few hours upon the mortal realm…

 

Anne Harrison 24.05.17

 

Intermission #3

The day the Order was Issued…

 

Kane awoke with a start, roughly shaking the images of the nightmare from his mind… The loud hammering at his door was desperately urgent, it was still dark outside and the cat resting at the foot of his bed glared at having her rest disturbed, hopped down and slipped through the open french doors vanishing into the night as Kane pulled on garments in a rush… A thousand thoughts flooded his mind, panic, annoyance and curiosity… He flung open the door to be greeted by a nervous looking maid accompanied by two guards in Regal uniform.

“You are summoned to the Royal Palace.” The taller guard spoke firmly. “At Once.”

“Dad?” A young six year old lad rubbed sleep from his eyes, standing at his doorway down the hall… “What’s happening?”

Kane simply tilted his head to one side and the Guards parted to allow him to attend to the boy. “I need to work.” He knelt by the lad. “You need to guard your sister while I’m away…” Kane glanced at the awaiting soldiers “…You know what to do.” He added. The boy nodded, slipping back into his room silently pondering over the secret command.

***

At Fenroux Palace in the centre of the Capital City, known as the Northern Heart. The streets were filled with celebration and wonder. It was mid-morning by The time Kane arrived from the Clan Territories and the city was buzzing with a party spirit. Queen Roux had given birth to a healthy bright baby boy, a Royal Prince and Heir.

That news alone gave Kane the understanding of his summons, he wasn’t a fool and he knew this day would come. For near seven years he had held, in secret upon his estate three ‘guests’ three legal Royal Heirs who, in all intent and purpose were already dead publicly. They had only survived these last few years in seclusion upon the whim of Queen Roux, who had personally halted the death sentence upon her only son and two grandchildren. Now, with a new Prince born to the legal King… Jago, who should have been ruler, and his twins Kol and Indigo were insignificant. The traditional order of the throne had been manipulated to suit Fendor’s ambition.

Kane was kept waiting, while Nobles and Knights arrived in mass to congratulate the Royal couple and hope for a glimpse of the tiny Prince. Finally it was Lord Darkfire who greeted Kane in a silent side room. The giant barbarian leader eyed Kane distastefully, clad in traditional clan garb, a tan tunic and dark blue kilt, Kane had adopted the ways of the land he ruled instead of dressing like an outsider. To Lord Darkfire the kilt was offensive and he openly mocked the older, yet smaller man. Kane ignored the remarks.

“Are you going to get to the point?” He shrugged off any insult.

“The Order has been Issued…” Lord Darkfire confirmed Kane’s speculations.

“Very well.” Kane stood to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Home, I have arrangements to make.”

“I shall be accompanying you!”

“Really?”

“Do you think the King trusts a lackey in a dress?”

Kane stepped right up to the Barbarian, standing chest to physically belly, as Lord Darkfire towered over him. “Do you want to try your luck?” Kane spoke softly, hand resting comfortably upon the hilt of his sword.

There was an uncomfortable silence until the larger man simply took a step backwards.

“You know it would have been easier to have simply sent the order with the Royal Guards instead of dragging me all the way here to the palace.” Kane sighed, bored with the waste of time.

Lord Darkfire grinned then half chuckled as he spoke “We needed you away from your home, to make some security arrangements. To ensure you go through with the order without any resistance.”

Kane kept his expression calm, his mind calculating the amount of time it would take to return home and a thousand more racing thoughts, yet he could not afford to dwell on the threat… “Do you doubt my loyalty to The King, one of my oldest, closest friends?” He spoke without hesitation. “I am perfectly aware of my duty when it was issued to me six years ago. My only concern is why it took so long to act?”

“For the Queen to conceive?” The Barbarian let slip what Kane had guessed.

“Ahhh… What do we know about the cycles of a ladies body?!” Kane grinned slapping the barbarian on the arm then… “Shall we go get this nasty business dealt with? I see no purpose in hesitation, it will be dusk by the time we return. We can get this done this day and break open some spiced wine to celebrate the babes birth.”

He marched past Lord Darkfire, causing the larger man to trot along to keep up. He was spluttering details of his orders as they headed to the courtyard and awaiting transportation. Kane was hardly listening, his mind was tumbling over the empty threat that hung in the air and he pondered over what could possibly await him at home…

 

Anne Harrison 24.05.17

Intermission #2

Out in the Wilds

 

“Something has been killing my sheep!” Brynn pursed her lips in a defiant pout as she expressed her concerns to Hera. They were reclined around the fire-pit in the clearing outside Hera’s den, secluded in the wilds of the Deep-Wood Forest. They shared a sweet mead as Brynn continued to recount her drama.

“So I decided to lay in wait, I’m not a bad shot with my cross bow and any beastie, I thought I could ward away. Now wolves I can deal with, naughty wild cats can sometimes take down a sheep, alas tis five of my flock I’ve lost… All slaughtered, all torn apart, viciously gutted. I was thinkin’ me foe to be a bear, but no grizzlies venture this far north. Perplexed I was, sat on guard, cold and sleepy. When I’s hear this frightful cry, like a shrill howl, but laced with more pain than ever a beast could hold in its soul. Even the wolves yelped and fled at the sound. Why, I could hardly hold by bow straight for trembling with utter fear!” Brynn paused to sip her mead.

“Well, Hera, well… when the creature came into sight I was stricken with dread… Twelve foot high I would say and near as wide, black as the depths of the well pit and covered in matted hair… I tried to get a shot off, I screamed, my flock scattered, the beast howled… What can I say Hera… I’ve never been so frightened, t’weren’t natural I’m telling ye!”

Hera refilled the shepherdess’s glass, half amused by Brynn’s dramatic rendition of events… Brynn sipped the mead grateful.

“An idea jumped to mind and I dashed towards the old well, screaming as I ran, the thing blundering after me, I swear I could feel it’s foul breath down me neck… At the last moment I sprang and cleared the mouth of the well in pure desperation… The thing at my heels, tripped, stumbling over the low crumbling bricks and fell with a mighty crash down the old pit, splashing into the stagnant water!” She drained her glass with triumph!

“Is this creature still down the well?” Hera asked bemused…

“Why yes, yes it is, it growled and howled and sobbed. Yet I threw over the old lid and weighted it down with bricks from the old wall. Then I came straight here, I needed to calm my nerves!”

“Shall we go and see what kind of beast you have caught?” The Witch took a burning fagot from the camp fire and, with a very nervous Brynn at her heels, lead the way through the forest to the deserted well, where soft mourning sounds echoed within.

The ladies carefully pulled back the weighted lid to peer within holding the brand aloft to shine into darkness.

Within a man glanced upwards towards the fire light, a large man granted, but no shaggy beast, naked and covered in slime and grime. He trembled, hugging himself…

“I know that face!” Hera gasped, He glanced towards the sound of her voice. A rough beard half obscured his features, but the Lord of the Barbarians was distinctively recognizable.

“Grave? You’re supposed to be dead?”

 

 

Anne Harrison 18.05.17

 

Intermission #1

*Even-longer-not-so-short-short-story*

There hereby follows a series of stand alone chapters, these mark significant events following the Coronation which occur throughout the years between Act 1 and Act 2 (which will be set 14 years hence) 

***

One Year Later…

 

Indigo pushed Kane onto his bed and took the quarter drained bottle of whisky from his blood slick fingers. Resting him backwards against the soft mattress, he shuffled reaching for the bottle, only to have his hand slapped away.

She pinned him down by his shoulders, even though her hands had been washed of all blood the cuffs of her tunic were still stained red. Kane murmured a half-hearted protest, yet Indigo simply pulled the warm furs up around his chin. He was exhausted, still clad in yesterdays clothes, the iron stench unavoidable.

Indigo shared his exhaustion, yet unlike Kane, she had not reached for the bottle so swiftly to cope with the sudden shock. In fact she poured the whisky away, ignoring his slurred insults. He had already drained several beers before turning to something stronger to drown his sorrows. Indigo forcefully ceased his drinking before it took hold and now sat on the edge of the bed.

She brushed his hair from his face, his skin clammy and hot, he simply starred at the empty bottle.

“I hate you.” He mumbled, but made no move against her tender touch.

“No you don’t Kane, you hate fate…” She signed softly.

“Fate didn’t pour away my drink!”

Indigo took his chin firmly in her grasp and tilted his head to face him… “Listen Kane, I shall grant you this moment and this moment only to drown yourself in pity, but in the morning, when you wake up, no matter how sore your head is. You will have to face the truth that you are now a single father, with two young babies to care for. You can not and you will not sink into the bottom of a bottle. For your life  belongs to your children now and your responsibility is to them.”

He blinked rapidly, her words cutting through the drink hazed fog in his mind. She released her grip. “I will help you Kane I am your friend, but I am not going to be a mother to your children and neither will I babysit your drunken ass!” She slapped his forehead.

Kane finally let tears flow.

“You actually loved her didn’t you?” There was honest surprise in her voice.

He simply nodded.

“Yet you never told her?”

Again he nodded.

“You’re an idiot Kane.” She sighed sadly and stood to draw the heavy curtains, shutting the night out and putting an end to a tragic day.

“Get some sleep Kane… But promise me this, do not let a day pass that you fail to express your love for your children. They are going to have to grow up without their Mother, do not deny them your love.”

She turned to leave then, taking the empty bottle with her…

 

 

Anne Harrison 16.05.17

 

A whole lotta words

On 26.09.16 I reposted a short story on my blog, on Friday  I wrote part 75, bringing current events to a comfortable  (current) conclusion… With each post being between 300 – 500+ words… that’s a whole lotta words in 9 months… I fell in love with writing at university, yet at the same time the course also shifted my perspective on publishing. I decided that there was no way I could ever be a published author. So I decided a blog was the perfect outlet for my silly little tale, my outrageously terrible poetry and most of all, my blog became my safe haven, to express myself on matters such as overcoming depression to coping with watching my Mother slowly die… Here was my freedom of expression,  where I didn’t need to delete posts because of trolls. My story is fantasy based, has Dragons… nope it’s not influenced by GoT (even if there is an eyeball scene) instead I’m heavily inspired my Michael Moorcock/Anne Rice… I don’t have a hero, my main protagonists were killed really early… oops… My next stage is to jump 14 years ahead… with possibly a few significant scenes before then to include… Ironically, I still personally prefer poetry, but I follow so many wonderful poetry blogs, my words are dumbed into silence. I think, I would like to use the space to explore my adventures, to put my experiences into words, but my characters won’t shut up and demand my attention. I’m taking a little rest from writing, I’m still staggered I’ve wrote so much in just 9 months… maybe this year I’ll actually achieve http://nanowrimo.org 

 

Part 75 – The End of an Era

Three Weddings – Three Nations – Three Hostages – Three Rulers

 

The Kings rotten head still adorned the audience chamber, a morbid trophy that Fendor kept upon display despite the odour. It was just past dawn, a cool dull light flooded the chamber as those of notoriety poured into the room to take their appointed seats. There was an air of anticipation throughout the court, speculation and rumour entertained the guests as they awaited the arrival of Fendor, self proclaimed ruler, having dispatched with the fierce-some Grave…

Black robed priests lead the way for Fendor and his closest aides who seated themselves along a heavy oaken table placed upon the chambers dais.

A silence fell over the audience…

“My People!” Fendor stood, his smile was radiant.

“The times of troubles is at an end, I have sealed a truce which will unite our lands and bring peace to our great nation!”

A triumphant roar echoed through the hall as nobles stood to applaud…

Alleia, seated by Kane’s side, felt sick, yet she clapped with as much enthusiasm she could fake. Her nerves were on edge, for seated to the left of Fendor was Roux, her eldest sister, the former Kings eldest child, had she been male, Roux would already have been coronated. She already ruled the Six Empires owned by the six siblings from behind her husband Bayron – News of his recent death had not been a surprise.

Fendor waited for the crowd to fall silent before continuing.

“Our own lands will be reunited with the Six Empires to the west, the whole family are in support of this union. We will make our Nation Great Again!” His voice rose as his ultimate plot was slowly revealed. The collected elite were riveted, they drank in his words, like they were a fine elixir. “We will be a force to be reckoned with. Treaties have been signed that will ensure peace with the Barbarian tribes in the wastelands!” More cheers followed his proud proclamation.

Upon a cue guards by the main door pulled both doors open simultaneously to reveal a figure stood beyond. A giant of a man, whose frame nearly fitted the doorway, clad in the traditional garb of a Barbarian Lord he stepped forth and stood before those gathered, awaiting his introduction.

“My people… I present to you Lord Darkfire, Brother of the late Grave and the new Lord of the whole tribes. Our Peace has been secured through marriage, the beloved Novana has accepted his proposal.” Murmurs of approval rippled throughout the crowd, and when Novana stepped into the room, clad beautifully in an exotic wedding dress, face alight with adoration, a slight blush flushed her cheeks as she stood by her Husband to be and took his arm, the hall once again erupted into great applaud…

Fendor drank in the triumph like a wolf savouring his kill…

“Further more… Further more…” He needed to call above the roar, Lord Darkfire and Novana took seats assigned for them at the head table, as the nobles settled, awaiting the next proclamation. “I have a second wedding to announce, my trusted Captain, Kane Stone, has assumed command over the Northern Clan Territories, having defeated Lord Pepe Montoto in combat. His marriage to the Princess Alleia secures yet another firm treaty between our lands. We are united! We are Strong! We shall be a Great Nation once again. Our lands are tied in Peace and we shall henceforth  celebrate this day as our ‘Nation Day’!” Fendor had the crowd on their feet once more…

These were all Lords and Ladies, Earls and Dukes… All the rich, the powerful, the elite… All those who gained to prospect from this treaty, widening trade routes, merging empires… This was a treaty forged on greed, on power, on lies…

“Finally!” Fendor smiled widely, “But by no means least… I am proud to announce a third wedding for this day. The noble Princess Roux has agreed to be my bride… Today shall be a day to remember! Three treaties, three nations, three weddings and our coronation!”

There it was… Alleia felt her heart sink… There was Fendor’s ultimate goal… To wed into the Royal Family, to Marry the eldest child and proclaim himself King and Roux Queen by his side… But where was Jago? Where were his children?

The applaud was deafening…

 

***

 

Epilogue

It really was a day to remember, the whole realm was in celebration, the three weddings were publicly observed and there were vast street parties throughout the land…

Happily Ever After settled across the nation… Built on betrayal, murder, kidnapping, black magic and a web of intricate lies. By the end of the day Fendor was King, Roux his Queen… They made a perfect couple…

Yet his bride had one stipulation and that obligation the new King burdened upon Kane… “I don’t care what you do with them, just make sure they are out of public sight… They can not be seen to be alive…” The King barked gruffly, having caught Kane shortly before his departure back to the Clans.

“Why not just kill them as planned?” Kane shrugged.

“Roux wants them alive, yet banished, so I’m banishing them to the Clan Territories with you. Out of this country at least, you only need hold them until she becomes bored with the idea and orders their deaths.” Fendor returned the shrug, dismissive…

“So I am now a babysitter for Royal Hostages?”

“Basically, Yes.” King Fendor said and turned and left.

 

THE END

(of this act)

 

 

Anne Harrison 12.05.17

 

Part 74

Whispers in the Night…

 

Alleia was initially disturbed from her slumber by the unannounced arrival of a sinister looking Priest, clad in robes, pungent with the stench of fresh blood, he had in his arms such a tiny wriggling babe, clad in a stained swaddling blanket, grizzling hungry. The Priest inexperienced with babies handed the child over with gruff instructions that she was required to nurse the girl until a wet nurse could be sought in the morning. With that he left abruptly, without waiting for any response from Alleia.

Kane and their own son were sound asleep, any earlier conflict between the couple had been resolved through mutual carnal desires, though Alleia hated his secrets and lies, she realised that her silence and obedience to Kane were keeping her alive. He appealed to her, not to ask any questions he could not answer. He begged her not to cause a scene, to remain quiet, to remain loyal. A dedicated mother, a devoted partner, whether this was an act or truth, the lines were blurred, yet she valued her life and vowed to protect her son at any cost.  Even if certain suggestions caused her to feel ill at ease.

Without choice and yet also without hesitation, Alleia took the precious tiny girl to her breast and made sure she fed. Then washed and dressed the babe in fresh warm clothes, over sized but cosy. By then the girl had drifted into a peaceful slumber, however, the magical qualities of newborn were obvious and Alleia could easily guess the true nature of the girl. She burped bubbles which popped into glittery butterflies, her eyes shone with an inner age, tiny flecks of light danced around her brow and Alleia could swear she heard gentle music, like the soft tinkling of unseen bells… The magical butterflies found her own son and danced around his cot, they buzzed and glowed, sensing an unseen connection between the two babies.

***

The second time Alleia was disturbed that night was when, not one or two, but three coaches arrived in the early hours, clattering along the cobblestones in the courtyard. Shortly afterwards Kane was summoned away by Barbarians, it was at that point she realised that a pair of guards had also been assigned to stand on duty at their quarters. She speculated that these were to guard the babe, yet she could not voice her concerns. Instead Alleia was left watching over the children, aware of the presence at the door and anxious with fear.

Kane was gone for several hours, it was near dawn when he returned, clad in a smart suit, his hair slicked back and tied in a neat ponytail. The clothes looked new or borrowed ill-fitting to his lanky frame, yet Alleia found his image appealing and smiles despite her tiredness. He approached her and drew her to her feet by her arms… “Remember I asked you to at least try to trust me, even if I’m unable to explain my actions?” Alleia nodded, holding his gaze, the door behind them was still open, his words were hushed, spoken softly for her ears alone. A maid entered the room following Kane, in her arms, a beautiful cream dress. “I’m asking you to trust me now, we’re leaving here, leaving the capital, returning to the clans, to our home.” He spoke swiftly, his words filled her with hope and still she feared the consequences what price that such a valuable promise might hold. The dress was a clue. “Fendor wants you dead, he thinks you have served your purpose and outlived your usefulness.” She saw the truth in his eyes at last. “I lied to him, I told him you were pregnant again to save you from execution. He’s paranoid, neurotic, he believes there could be more magic entwined. The lie may have pulled you from the axe-man’s grasp, yet it binds you to me.” He drew a deep breath then. “I have been given the Clan Nations to rule, in his name, I may take my leave upon the morrow, with my family. With my wife. Should you accept me?”

“Why do I get the feeling this appears too good to be true?” Alleia whispered.

“Ooh, there is more, there always is with Fendor and his insane schemes, but I can not tell you that until we are safe at home.”

“More secrets Kane? More lies?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not, I think you enjoy this game.” Alleia shrugged out of his grasp and approached the maid, taking the dress from her arms and holding it up against her body. It was beautiful and smelt vaguely of fresh jasmine.

“…But I accept…”

 

Anne Harrison 11.05.17

Part 73

A Fate Worse than Death…

 

Novana awoke, yet could not move nor speak. Her body, naked, still laid prone on the cold stone altar. Dried blood caked her skin, felt sticky against her thighs. Her womb was empty, yet the torn gash had healed, there was no pain. Just an empty shallow feeling that consumed her heart with grief, a loss for her girl she never held, the babes fate unknown to her.

She could not move her head, only stare upwards through parched eyes that she barely managed to will to blink to save her foggy sight. The ceiling above her was adorned with strange arcane symbols, painted in black blood, the stench of it mingled with heavy incense caused her to feel light headed.

Fendor returned, she hated him, rage filled her eyes as he leered over her prone body, she felt his hands, warm against her cold flesh. “I am glad you survived the rite.” He purred softly against her ear, tangling his fingers into her hair. “You are going to be a gift, sweet Princess, you are the prize for loyalty. But first we need your obedience.”

He drew a long sacrificial dagger from with the folds of his robes and started to carve an incantation into her chest, carefully, slowly, painfully, cutting each magical sigil that stole her free will and encased her mind into her animated body.

He ended the rite by smearing a cocktail of rancid goats blood, Kol’s blood, herbs and oils into the fresh scars, enclosing the spell and trapping Novana into her mind. She sank into herself, she could still see, could still think freely, yet her body was that of a puppet. Controlled by magic, she moved upon command, she spoke upon command and yet she was firmly caged in her swimming thoughts. Her only hope was that madness might save her from this fate… Yet her only current saving grace was to invent a series of vicious acts to avenge herself upon Fendor. This rage kept her sane, her fury and lust for revenge gave her mental strength to endure anything he could subject her body to.

She was dressed in finery, hair styled, face painted, corset and heels. The dress was stunning ans suited her slender figure elegantly. She felt like a bride…

… and she was …

 

Anne Harrison 11.05.17

Part 72

Ultimatums and Abdication.

 

Jago, the rightful heir and King to the nation, was broken when the dismembered leg of his beloved son was delivered by Barbarian Warriors with demands for his abdication, to relinquish any claim to the throne and to hand himself over as hostage to prevent any retaliation. Failure to comply would result in more of his Son’s body parts being delivered until Kol’s painful slow demise. Their threat to Indigo, was far sinister and too traumatic for a loving Father to comprehend.

The guards awaited Jago’s reply, having been strict instructions to wait a single hour only for his surrender. Giving the heir limited time for the painful decision between his birthright and the life of his children. In his mind there was no choice, he had never anticipated to rule and cared little for the politics and drama from his Mother (The King’s eldest Daughter) and her various bitter siblings… All female, their passion to rule denied from an outdated ‘Male Only’ policy regarding the throne.

“You are a fool and a coward if you dare to give yourself up for the sake of those twins!” His Mother roared in his face, her sympathy for her own Grandchildren non-existent. “You are supposed to be a King! A Ruler!” A ruler does not let parental emotions make them weak!” Her persistent verbal abuse was eating away at the precious time he had to save his children. “If only I had been male!” She spat…

“I will not sacrifice my children for a throne I have no desire to hold.” He replied, causing an astonished collective gasp from the ruling council, who had been watching the outburst with amusement.

“I shall disown and disinherit you, if you DARE to utter such words again.”

The sand in the timer flowed towards the end of time…

The council awaited the decision that could change the fate of their entire nation, His Mother, red faced and fuming, paced in clacking high heels, muttering more insults under her breath… Yet Jago appeared calm, he reached out and laid a hand upon the dismembered limb, still clad in ruined garments and boot. The flesh dead and cold to the touch, the concept that his son would be returned to him bit by bit sickened his very soul.

Without a word he stood and handed himself over to the Barbarian Guards, who bound him tightly to escort away from the council chambers, insults and jeers followed him as he was lead away, the most painful, the most bitter, from his own Mother. Yet he gave himself up to protect his children, allowed himself to be taken hostage.

The sands of time ran out, his reign was never meant to be…

 

Anne Harrison 08.05.17

Part 71

Ataraxia – The Child of Prophecy

 

Born brutally in an arcane ritual, presided over by her sinister Father, clad in robes, whispering chants. Torn from her mothers body weeks prior to her due date Ataraxia’s wails filled the incense heavy air, as she drew her first breaths of life. From the moment of her birth, the tiny babe instantly displayed magical qualities.

Every candle lit for the rite was subsequently extinguished by an unseen force, plunging the room into darkness. Delicate flecks of light danced around the baby, the gaping wound Fendor had inflicted upon Novana’s swollen tummy slowly healed, despite having been left bleeding profusely. Two crows appeared at the high window and called into the night and all Fendor’s dark priests at once complained of a headache.

This was just a taste of the power held within the child, a mere moments old and already instinctively exerting her magical abilities. Fendor held his daughter in his arms, cradled her gently, dismissing his inflicted Priests from the chamber. “You are going to bring me greatness.” He whispered, at that moment instantly loving, hating and fearing the babe he had sired.

Ataraxia gurgled, wriggling, the golden flecks dancing around her head like a halo. The crows had since left, though Fendor expected they had not gone far. Aware that his daughter would need to be cleaned and fed before too long, Fendor decided that maybe Alleia hadn’t quite lived out her usefulness just yet, considering the Princess to be a suitable wet nurse currently until something more permanent could be arranged.

He left Novana, still naked, still laid upon the stone alter, somewhere between life and death, having never held her own newborn. To be dealt with by his priests, once they had recovered. Her fate already decided months ago…

 

Anne Harrison 04.05.17