Queen of Yesterdays
SpicyRoses
Prologue: A time to remember….
AN:
Cean: Pronounced like 'Ce' as in 'Ce'cilia + an in 'an'ne.
"I am your majesty's most humble servant." My words echoed throughout the chamber; I almost cringed at the obvious insincerity of the words. I was never good at lying, and my audience knew that all too well. Despite the darkness, I forced myself not to look up as I heard the sound of rustling silk, and shoes landing on the floor. It was the sensation of hot breath touching my neck that forced me to look up at her. The moonlight that flooded through the stain glass window was enough for me to see her narrow, brown eyes.
"How could I ever believe a traitor?" she asked, emphasizing the word traitor with a hiss. To my surprise, she traced my chin with her thumb, as if she wanted to make sure that I was real. Her touch felt electric, like a stinging sensation that wouldn't go away. I didn't know what she was trying to do, but in the back of my mind I believed she wanted to intimidate me.
I wouldn't give my sister that pleasure.
Instead of cowering like Edmund had accused me of doing so many times, I stared boldly at her, acting the exact opposite as a humble servant. Her regency ring bearing the face of the Great Lion sharply grazed my neck as she fingered my unruly, blonde hair. I didn't need any more light to know that she was smirking at the results of her humiliating orders. After she realized I wouldn't make any protests, my sister dropped her hand, and walked into a darker part of the room, and stood next to a piece of furniture that I could just make out as a desk covered in papers.
"How does it feel to have all your glory gone?" she asked.
"I think you know the answer to that question," I answered, and then added with a spat of distaste, "dear sister."
There was a pregnant pause as Cean poured a liquid into a goblet. Wine, I guessed, as I watched her drink it. There was a bang as she placed onto her desk. It must have hit something, or something must have hit the goblet, for I heard a clattering sound a few minutes later. Cean cursed underneath her breath.
There was a momentary silence, and then, "They say….," she stopped, as if it was hard for her to say whatever she was going to say, "that you are expecting." I held my breath, forcing to myself to push back unwanted memories.His touch. His warm, calloused hands against my skin. His laughter. His kisses.
"Is it his?" her accusation cut through my memories my lover like a knife. I licked my lips, and awkwardly adjusted my dress on the floor. My legs were getting cramped due to the long kneeling my sister insisted upon me whilst in her presence. I didn't know how to reply to her. I didn't know what the consequences would be.
"Is it his?" she repeated, her tone an octave higher.
"Yes," I whispered. The doors behind me suddenly opened, and without permission, I hastily rose, hoping to avoid the incoming soldiers. A sickening feeling rose in my stomach, and I could feel the bile gathering in my throat. Did they come for me?
One of the three armed Fauns handed something to my sister, which I guessed to be a special paper for some important matter. I watched as another Faun lit a lantern near Cean, and I could now see her visible, pale lips as she read the letter to herself. It was for the first time in a long while that I had fully seen her, and it struck to me that she wasn't well at all. She took a quill, and signed it, and afterwards handed it back to the Captain.
The Fauns saluted her, and left, or so I thought. I glanced at Cean, and I noticed a smirk upon her lips. What had she done? Had she won? No, Aslan wouldn't never let her, he couldn't!
"Do you know what that was?" I stared at her, and didn't say anything. I knew I wasn't meant to. "That was your death sentence," she finished, glowering at me. A shiver crawled down my spine. I tried to keep even breaths, but everything seemed so burdensome all of a sudden.
'Don't cower,' Edmund's voice echoed in my head.
"Death by hanging, or by the blade, dear sister?" she asked. I pressed my lips together tightly, forcing myself not to plead for mercy.
"W-w-when?" I croaked out, my lips moving by themselves.
"After the babe is born," she replied, moving close to me, her train following her. "I would hate to be accused of an innocent's murder." I felt a battering ram against my heart. According to the midwife provided by the High Queen, my due date was in a week. Now it all made sense. Cean's constant letters filled with questions about my health, and Leall's constant badgering about being careful.
I should have known.
"Your child will have no recollection of you. Your face will be vanish in history, like the presence of the High King," her harsh words rang in my ears. "She will be the next heir, but no mark of your humiliation upon our family will ever shame her. You can be sure of that."
I froze as hoofs pounded against the floor again, and I immediately sensed the presence of the Fauns as they surrounded me. I looked at my sister, triumphant at last. It was checkmate, the end game, and she was bathing in it all. It didn't matter that we were sisters, bound by blood through the same kin and parents. Strong hands gripped my forearms, and I was forced to stand on my own trembling legs and feet. My metal chains scrapped against my wrists, causing my eyes to water. I refused to cry out for the little dignity that I had left.
"Remember, dear sister," said my sister, as I stood in the doorway, "remember that he only really loved you."
"Yes," I agreed, narrowing my dull, brown eyes at her, "but in the end, he chose you." She smiled briefly, and cocked her head to the side as if she was seeing me as her real sister for the first time. And, for a short moment, I wondered if she was reconsidering my death sentence. A soft look of devotion flickered in her eyes, but as soon as it came, the emotion left. Her pale face fixed in rigid hatred.
"No, sister, we all know that he chose you," she declared, and I was led back the tower. The Fauns used a back way that was only lighted by large candles. I saw not a single soul, most likely by orders of the High Queen. After climbing numerous steps downwards, and always downwards, never up, we came to the prison. Rows of empty cells greeting me, as well as the cold, spring air of the night. My cell door opened with a screech, and the Captain pushed me in, although aware of my condition.
They left, and once the sound of clattering hoofs ended, I knew I was alone. My growing child kicked inside of me, and I winced almost automatically. I rubbed my stomach softly. I would never see this child, but if Aslan would give me the grace, I would, if only for a few moments. I would never see its future, though, for I was only the Queen of Yesterdays.
TBC...
