" Krakis growled, "Not after what she did to us. I don’t care if she was ‘cursed.’ You should have her executed right now!"
"That would be treason, Field Marshal." Lucian said, "If Leveria relinquishes her right to rule by becoming the Dark Queen, then why does Yavara not regain her right by rebecoming a high-elf? She is the first in line now."
"Lines of succession don’t matter anymore." Krakis insisted, "We’re in a new age of empire! An empress’s power comes from the loyalty of the military!"
"Enough, both of you!" I snapped, "I’m not giving up my seat to a woman who waged war on us, and I’m not executing a former princess of the Highlands! We’ll figure out what to do after we deal with the threat at hand!"
The two men shut up, assuring me at least for the moment that I was still in charge. Lucian glanced back at Yavara, then glanced at the sword on my hip. Does Yavara know? Was the thought he conveyed with his eyes, and I shook my head. The next thought he conveyed was, can you do it?
I nodded.
Lucian cleared his throat. "Well then, Your Highness," he said, giving Krakis a furtive look, "I can’t say I agree with your choice, but it is your choice."
"It is." Krakis replied.
"What if you don’t come back out?" Lucian asked.
"If I’m not out after two hours, then Krakis is in charge." I said, "For now, just range your weapons for that fleet. God only knows what that woman will do before this is all over." I glanced back at Yavara, who stood alone by the riverbank, "or that one."
I departed from my command tent, and left with Yavara. We walked silently for minutes, crossing the bridge across the Knife river, and traversing the pocked streets with only our footsteps echoing off the stone towers. It was only when we walked behind the cover of a fallen building, that we looked at each other. The illusion spell that canvased my flesh filtered away, revealing the bronze skin that Yavara had painted upon me all those months ago. She had transformed me, but the metamorphosis wasn’t a mutation, but an evolution. I never felt that it was the same for her. As I looked at her now, I saw a peacefulness that had never been present within her before. When we were children, she was restless. When she was the Dark Queen, she was chaotic. Now she was at ease. I didn’t know what had happened to her, but I knew she had been the one to ultimately make this choice.
"What?" Yavara asked with a smile.
"I was just thinking… I never got used to seeing you as the Dark Queen. Even months after you transformed, my mental image of you was always this."
"Funny," she replied, and extended her hand toward me, "I hardly noticed the difference with you."
Our fingers interlaced, and I felt something hard within me melt away. "Oh my god…" I whispered as hot tears formed in my eyes, "Yavara, I… I…"
She pulled me into a tight embrace. Her body pressed to mine, comforting and familiar, warm with love and life. "I was so lost without you!" She whimpered, her tears wetting my cheeks, "Whatever happens, don’t you ever leave me again!"
"Never again." I sobbed back.
We held each other for minutes, simply finding comfort in the other’s embrace. When we parted, we slid our hands into each other’s hair, and looked into each other’s eyes. It was the moment preceding the kiss, but neither of us initiated it. The attraction was there, and it was strong, but something stronger pulled us apart. We smiled solemnly to each other, linked our fingers once more, and walked hand-in-hand to the Dark Queen’s tower.
LEVERIA
I watched Yavara and Elena embrace, and my frown deepened. Did I feel jealousy? No, I didn’t think I was capable of feeling that anymore, which was rather strange for me, since jealousy had been one of the seminal emotions in my life before my transformation. I was certainly capable of feeling envy; in fact, I felt it very keenly. If something wasn’t mine, then there was something wrong with the universe, for everything was supposed to be mine. When I looked down at Elena and Yavara, I didn’t feel jealousy, for I did not fear losing. I felt envy for what I never had. I had lived over a quarter of a century, and I had spent the vast majority of that time alone. Not in solitude, for I was always surrounded by people, but none of the people were souls I could share myself with. Even my father had been a stranger to my most inner self. Only Elena had gotten to my core, and only for a few beautiful months. All the days, months and years preceding her felt… empty.
I had always been honest with myself. I could only be what I was, so there was really no point in lying. I was a sadistic woman, an evil woman, a manipulator and a schemer, but I didn’t think I was a psychopath. I had always identified as one simply because I saw everyone else as tools to be used, but I felt empathy; just not for most people. Only a ***** few could call themselves my equal, and those few people had been broadened to two. I could not lose them. I would not continue my life feeling empty, for all the kingdoms and power in the world wouldn’t matter without someone else who truly understood me.
As Yavara and Elena made their way up the steps of Castle Alkandra, I felt a terrible sense of foreboding. When they disappeared into the atrium, I felt anxiety tugging at my throat. The minutes I waited while they traversed the stairway up the tower were pure torture. I paced the room, compulsively checked myself in the mirror, washed my face and reapplied my makeup, and even made the bed. I almost yelped with fright when my guard pounded on my door.
"Your Highness!" He yelled, "Queen Regent Yavara Tiadoa and Queen Elena Straltaira are here to see you!"
I composed myself with two breaths through my nostrils, and said with my most stately voice, "They may enter."
The door creaked open, and Yavara walked in. There was a figure behind her, but it stayed obstructed by Yavara’s profile until she closed the door behind her. For an agonizing moment, I could only see the top of a blonde head and the glint of a golden crown. Then Yavara stepped out of the way, and Elena Straltaira was staring right at me, alive and clothed with power. Her face was unemotive, her posture was neutral, and her eyes were steady.
"Your Highness," she said curtly.
"Your Highness." I answered with a sneer.
Yavara lingered by Elena’s side for a moment, then traversed the perimeter of the room until we were all equidistant from each other. I guessed the lovey-dovey hug session outside was over. It was every woman for herself in here.
Elena assessed me silently, studying the black leather armor that contoured vulgarly to my shape, examining the bulging codpiece and the robust protrusion of my tan breasts, then finding my orange eyes. In turn, I drank in every perfect angle and curve of her athletic figure shelled in form-fitting golden armor, displaying her like a resplendent statue put out before the temple of some heathen war goddess. Yavara measured us in turn, looking like the picture of Highland innocence and modesty in her simple gown, but the danger glinted from her steely blue eyes.
"Someone say something," Yavara whispered.
I turned to Elena. "You’re a shit bodyguard, you know that?"
"I died for you," she hissed.
"Did you? Well that’s great and all, but good bodyguards don’t die for their queen; they you know, guard her."
"I don’t remember you employing me as your bodyguard."
"I don’t remember employing you at all. I’m pretty sure I brought you into Bentius as my slave. Now you’re the queen of the Highlands. What a little entrepreneur you turned out to be. You’re welcome, by the way."
"For…?"
"For vacating the throne so that you could have it. God knows you’ve been gunning for it ever since you stepped foot in the Noble Court."
"I never wanted this."
"Cool, then give it to Yavara."
Elena cracked a cruel sneer. "This is between you and me, Leveria. Yavara’s too smart to let you use her."
"I’m not too dumb to let you exclude me, Elena." Yavara said sharply, "That throne belongs to me." She turned back to me, "But we’ll deal with more pressing matters first."
"I want to speak with King Arthur Dreus right—"
"Yavara," I interrupted Elena, "if Elena leaves Alkandra with that crown on her head, you will never wear it."
Yavara smirked. "Nice try."
"Leveria, where the fuck is King Dreus?"
"Don’t even bother. Leveria sexually lobotomized him."
"The three great realms of Tenvalia are now ruled by women." I mused, "What a moment in history."
"Only one of us here is a real woman." Yavara said.
"Women are weak creatures incapable of critical thinking and cannot be trusted to make important decisions." I laughed. My mirth echoed into silence, bouncing off the walls, and the stony faces of Elena and Yavara.
"Nothing about this is funny, Leveria." Elena said.
"When did you lose your sense of humor?"
"Around the time Bentius was sacked."
I pointed at Yavara. "Her fault."
"What?!" Yavara exclaimed, "Adrianna led the attack, and Adrianna was your agent!"
"I’m not the one who sent a pack of orcs over the—"
"Don’t you fucking dare try to get out of this!" Elena snarled at me, "You were the one who turned Adrianna! You were the one who framed Prince Matthew!"
"Did I ever deny it? Sorry I didn’t keep you in the loop, Elena, but your head was stuck in the fantasy land of world peace and teddy bears, and I didn’t want to break your fragile illusion."
"Well, it’s broken now, Leveria. I didn’t bring the whole goddamn army here to sign a fucking treaty."
"Then why are we talking right now?"
"I’m giving you a chance."
I giggled. "Elena, this isn’t the Noble Court. There aren’t a dozen other players obfuscating the board. It’s just you and me now, and you’re out of moves."
"I’ve still got one."
"You don’t. I’m sorry, babe, but it’s checkmate."
Her gaze was unwavering. "Not yet, Leveria."
My smile faded. "Why is me winning the same as you losing?"
"Because it always is. You play to defeat; it was never enough for you just to win."
"You were enough for me." I hissed. Tears formed in my eyes, and I tried to stop them, but it was useless. "Goddamn it, you’re making me cry in front of Yavara."
"Crocodile tears." Elena growled.
"I’m done trying to deceive you, Elena."
Elena barked a laugh.
"I mean it," I said, "you probably thought I’d try to seduce you, didn’t you? Press you up against the wall, kiss you just like we used to, tempt you with everything I have to offer. I know you couldn’t resist me, and I know you’d never forgive me. That’s why I’m not going to touch you."
"She’s lying." Yavara said, "She’ll do whatever it takes to get what she wants."
"I know." Elena said, staring right into me. "You know why I came here, Leveria."
"To kill the Dark Queen?" I laughed, "Are you so dead-set on it that it doesn’t matter who it is? You always convinced yourself that the hardest path must be the righteous one; did it ever occur to you that easiness isn’t evil?"
"You’re evil."
"I’m a drop in the ocean compared to necessary evil. If you attack me, tens of thousands will die. Do all of their deaths balance mine?"
"Did you ask yourself that question when you sent them to me?" Yavara asked.
"Of course she didn’t." Elena growled.
"I recognized the threat Yavara would become. Wasn’t I right?"
"We’re not talking about me, Leveria!"
"She’s not the Dark Queen anymore, you are!"
"So what the fuck do you want?!" I screamed, "To kill me?! You can’t! It’s OVER!"
"It’s not! It never will be with you!" Elena brandished her useless sword, and pointed it right at my chest, "You always just want more."
"Elena, put that away!" Yavara yelled.
"What are you going to do, Elena?" I hissed, "Scratch my ass with it? Shave my cunt? I’m the fucking Dark Queen!"
"Yavara," Elena said, keeping her eyes fixed on me, "now’s our only chance."
"Keep me out of this!"
"You can’t stay out of this!" Elena growled, "It’s either her or me!"
"Why are you always like this?!" I raged, "There’s more choices than that, you stubborn moron!"
"Not for me, Leveria." Elena hissed. The point of her sword was quivering, and her eyes were glistening. "I came here to kill someone I love. I have to, don’t you understand? It’s my punishment. I had a duty, I swore an oath, and when I was face to face with evil, I couldn’t kill it because she wore the face of someone I loved. How many hundreds of thousands have died for my weakness? The marshlands are choked with them, the Rift is heaped with them, Alkandra rains their ash, and Bentius is painted with their blood! It’s all because of me, don’t you see?!" She screamed, the point of her sword flailing erratically from Yavara to me, "I know what’s on the others side. Do you want to know what there is? There’s NOTHING! This is all just a veneer sheeted over a depthless pit, so thin and fragile that it takes but one misstep for it to tear! I was nothing. I was no one. Can you understand? There wasn’t a me! Why was I was brought back? Why? Why? WHY?! It can’t be for no reason! Life isn’t just chance and circumstance! It’s fated and destined! I was brought here to right the mistakes I made! Don’t you see?! This is my destiny! I’m God’s weapon against you! I HAVE TO KILL WHAT I LOVE, OR I’LL NEVER KNOW REDEMPTION!"
Elena screamed, and charged me. Yavara smashed into her side, and the two of them flew across the room, and thudded against the wall.
YAVARA
It was like I’d been punched in the gut. The air shot from my diaphragm, leaving me gulping for breath on the floor. Elena rolled off me, painting the floorboards red with blood. Not her blood though. I looked down at my midsection, and blinked. I had put my shield up to block whatever attack Leveria would throw at Elena in anger, and yet, Elena’s sword was imbedded in my torso just below my sternum. Blood dampened the cloth of my gown until it was saturated, then spilled freely down my belly, and pooled in little rivulets upon the floor.
"Um… Elena?" I asked, "What… what is this?"
Elena groaned, then rolled over. Her stunned eyes took a moment to focus, and when they did, they bulged. Not exactly a reassuring reaction.
"Elena?" I asked.
"No." She whispered, "No, no, no, no, no!" She crawled frantically over to me, and began tearing pieces off my gown.
"What are you doing?"
"You’re going to be OK." She muttered, hastily organizing the strands into ribbons, "We just have to stop the bleeding. It didn’t hit anything important. It didn’t hit anything important. It didn’t hit—"
"Elena," I said, grabbing her arm, "stop. Pull this fucking sword out of me and let me heal myself."
She shook her head. Her mouth opened as though to say something, but her lips were trembling so violently that she couldn’t form the words. She just struggled through her makeshift bandages with single-minded soldiery, trying to steady her palsying fingers as they tore sections off my gown. Leveria cocked her head at us, then cautiously walked over. She reached for the handle of the sword stuck inside me, and Elena shrieked so ferociously that Leveria flinched backward.
"What?!" Leveria exclaimed, "She said she wants it pulled out!"
"DON’T!" Elena screamed, and huddled over me, "Don’t fucking touch her!"
"The sword—"
"If you take that sword out, she’ll die, don’t you understand?!" Elena yelled, "We need to dress the wound! It didn’t hit anything important! It didn’t hit anything important!"
"It didn’t hit anything important?" Leveria looked quizzically at her. "Elena, that sword is through her stomach. If we don’t pull it out and heal her—"
"IT DIDN’T HIT ANYTHING IMPORTANT!" Elena shrieked, and began applying bandages around the wound. They were soaked almost immediately by the puddle that was forming on my belly. I was becoming very aware of how cold the room was, and how dim the lighting was. It was only an hour or so until dusk, but it seemed much darker than that. I looked up at Leveria, but her eyes were locked on the sword. She crouched to Elena’s level, applied her arcane shield, and ran her finger along the blade’s edge. The metal went right through her shield like it wasn’t even there, and cut into her flesh. She pulled her hand back sharply, recoiling from the blade that was stuck inside me like it was a hissing snake. Horror started creep into me. I watched Leveria cast a healing incantation on her finger, and I watched her gaze slowly raise to mine as the blood continued to drip from her wound.
"Oh shit," I laughed weakly, "I’m in trouble."
"You’re Ok!" Elena said fiercely, stuffing the wound with makeshift gauze until the blade was wreathed in blood-saturated cloth. "We just gotta stop the bleeding," she mumbled, "half the royal mages practice surgery. A ruptured stomach doesn’t have to be fatal." She gritted her teeth, tore off the rest of my skirt, and stuffed it in and around the wound. She applied pressure until the red stopped spreading into the white, and she let out her first breath. "See?" she offered me a reassuring smile, "we just had to stop the bleeding. You’re going to be fine!" Her smile stayed glued to her petrified face for a moment, then slowly fell when she saw the puddle of blood pooling outward from beneath me. My back felt like I was lying on something rigid and uncomfortable. It was a rather innocuous sensation, but I knew that if I moved just a fraction, I would feel the split muscle, flesh and liver surrounding the blade that was imbedded into the floor beneath me.
"Ok," Leveria said, kneeling to my side, "I’m going to rip this out and bite you, and you’re going to turn into a vampire."
"It’s coated in Nadi sap." Elena muttered.
Leveria’s face fell.
"Leveria?" I croaked, "Am I going to die?"
She just stared at me for a moment, then nodded slowly.
Elena let out a great wail, and buried her face in my breast. "I’m so sorry." She whimpered, "Oh my god, I’m so sorry!"
I tried to embrace her, and realized with numb horror that I could not. I could see and feel my arm and though it seemed that there was still strength in it, it would not move. I couldn’t move at all save for the trembling spasms that rolled through my body. I was so, so cold. Though a fire roared in the hearth, and its glow encompassed my body, none of its warmth held me. I couldn’t feel Elena’s weight atop me, nor the heat of her flesh. I couldn’t feel anything at all. The world was rapidly dimming and dulling, its brilliance reducing to muted colors, then nothing. I had been dying for minutes, and I wasted those last moments of strength. There was so much I wanted to say now, but there just… wasn’t… enough…
"I love you." I mouthed, unable to voice it. I didn’t say it to anyone, but I meant it for everyone. For as the blackness began to envelope me, I realized that everyone and everything was precious to me, and the great void beyond was just… nothing.
ELENA
Yavara’s heartbeat faded. Her blood was hot as it soaked me, but her flesh was so cold. Her alabaster skin had become light blue, and her eyes were staring at nothing. I had done it. I had done what I’d come here to do. Fate had played out the final lines of its cruel comedy.
"You said you were brought back," Leveria said behind me, "but there are no mages in the Highlands powerful enough to raise the dead. It nearly killed Yavara when she did it to me, and I have no such power as that. How?"
"Jonias kept my brain alive and healed my dead flesh. It was a one in a million shot."
"I think the odds were likely better than that." Leveria crawled over to Yavara. I was stunned to see that she was weeping freely for her sister. She put her finger beneath Yavara’s nostrils, then looked at me. "The royal mages are trained for surgery. If Catherine Jonias could do it, then they could."
"It’s too late." I held up my bloodied hands, "I’ll never get her back in time."
"I can."
"They’ll kill you."
"Not if I have you with me."
I narrowed my eyes at her, unsure of the trick. "You’ll do that?"
"For her? For you? I’d do anything."
A dangerous flicker of hope ignited in my chest. I quickly wrapped Yavara’s arms across her breasts, and hauled her upright. The blood that had pooled on her chest gushed down her body, and her blue lips quivered out a terrible moan. "Get her legs! Hurry!" I yelled.
Leveria chewed on her lip, looking uncertain. She contemplated her sister for a moment, then looked me dead in the eye. "What is she worth to you, Elena?"
I glared at her. "I can’t believe you."
"I said I’d do anything; will you?"
"Get her legs! We don’t have time!"
Leveria stood up, and elevated Yavara with a spell. The blood dripped off her back from the point of my sword. "She is the Highland queen."
"Leveria, we have to—"
"Say it!" Leveria yelled.
"Giving her the crown is the same as giving it to you."
"And I’d like to keep it that way. That’s why you’ll be staying in Alkandra with me."
"No."
Leveria made no effort to conceal her anguish from me. The iron mask she once wore so well had fallen from her face, showing me the heartbreak clearly behind her glistening eyes. "Don’t do this to us, Elena."
"You’re making me choose between you and her! You’re killing her!"
"No, Elena. I am making you choose between her and the Highlands, one last time."
Blood poured freely from Yavara’s nose and mouth. A choking sound emanated from her throat, but she didn’t have the strength to clear it. I wondered if I could callously watch her die. I wondered if Leveria could. For the first time in my life, I could see her struggling with herself. Every rattle and gurgle from Yavara evoked a flinch on Leveria’s face, and such involuntary reactions—no matter how subdued—upon Leveria’s face were as emotive as if she were screeching. The death sounds of her sister rang in her head as clearly as they did mine, but still we stood there, staring at each other, locked in a battle of wills.
"Was I such a terrible queen of the Highlands?" Leveria hissed, "Did I not do everything in my power to defend my people? Why would I destroy it all now? Why do you distrust me so?"
"Because I know you."
"I’m not the one who uses love as a weapon!"
"It was all I could do against you and Yavara." I looked up at Yavara, and whispered, "It’s all I have now. I’m sorry, Yavara."
Leveria closed her eyes, and let out a shuddering sigh. She slowly bowed her head, and muttered, "Fine then, Elena. You win."
ZANDER
The world was a black, endless void, but it wasn’t the world, but the place between worlds. I sat naked on the astral plane, and pondered silently.
Why have you come to this place of impermanence? Arbor’s voice echoed through the abyss.
I don’t know. I responded.
The blackness was illuminated by a glow that was both green and purple. A shapely, naked figure strode into my vision. Her skin was a pale purple, her eyes a shining emerald, her hair white with streaks of black, and her wings spread wide behind her silhouette.
Prestira died in my forest, and she was strong enough to linger in the astral plane before she departed. Arbor said as she approached me, I offered her a chance to tether herself to my roots and bark and live as part of me, but she refused. She was not ready to die, but she was at peace with it. I see that you are not.
I spent my life living for someone who wouldn’t live for me. I laughed bitterly, I guess I died for someone who actually cared about me. At least that was on my terms.
Through my observance of you mortals, Arbor said as she sat next to me, I’ve noticed that the people who lead the most meaningless lives, often lead the most fulfilling ones.
A wife, a couple of kids, and a dog, I smiled, it does sound nice, but it’s not for me.
We had more than a couple of kids, Zander. Arbor said, with the hint of humor in her voice.
They grew up so fast.
And died even faster. Arbor responded. A silence filled the void, but it wasn’t an awkward one. It was simply a space between words that didn’t need to be spoken. Zander, she said carefully, you lived the best years of your life as a hermit in my forest. You were a man of cultivation and growth.
I harvested psychedelic mushrooms and got high in the woods.
You say that like it is something to be disparaged. It sounds like freedom to me.
Are you offering me the same deal as Prestira?
Will you take it?
I pondered her for a moment, then asked, what’s it like?
I couldn’t describe it to you, Arbor said, resting her head on my shoulder, I could only show you.
Does it get lonely? I asked her.
It does, she whispered back, I have few equals in this world, and you are one of them. After living a mortal life, I cannot bear the idea of existing without someone to understand me.
What would I even be?
You would be a caretaker of the forest as I am, tethered to the earth by trillions of roots that dig deep into the heart of the soil. You would share my home, and father my future children. I suppose that would make you my husband.
That’s quite the offer. I smiled.
It is a proposal, she smiled back, but I’m not accustomed to your kind of chivalry, so I will not bend the knee, or offer you a ring.
It’s the man that usually does all that, I chuckled as I slid my hand around her waist, but I accept, Arbor.
That’s good to hear…husband. Arbor whispered, and placed her hand on my thigh. When I looked into her mauve and green eyes, I saw a desire deeper than just my astral flesh. There was an ancient loneliness there, a deep and existential longing for someone to share and understand. Perhaps I could not share and understand what it meant to be Arbor Dawnbark, but I knew deep in my marrow what it meant to feel that long and silent loneliness. And I knew that little smile that stretched across Arbor’s face—that minute curve of her lips that emoted so little, and expressed so much. Hope. I had once seen that smile on Prestira’s face, and I had turned away. Never again. I would know hope. I would know love.
I reflected that smile back at Arbor, and pulled her into my lap. She wrapped her arms around me, and I kissed her deeply.
End of Part Seventeen.
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