"You're kidding me."
Eduard smiles at his friend, whose eyes have widened to the size of marbles upon seeing his collection. "I'm not joking, Tolys. These are all my books."
"No way," As though in a trance, Tolys steps into the room, scanning the shelves upon shelves of books. "You practically have an entire library's worth of books in here!"
"Borrow as many as you want!" Eduard gestures to one of the selves. "I mean, some of the books are really, really old, but I'm sure you'll find some you like."
Still in shock, Tolys wanders towards one of the shelves labelled Fairytales and pulls out the oldest-looking book, bound in blue-hued leather and, embossed in gold on the cover, reads Saga ills.
"The Story of Evil," Eduard translates. "A really old, pretty bloody story that probably happened in real life at some point. Some people tell a watered-down version of it as bedtime stories for kids, but this is the real thing. You sure you can handle it?"
"Ed, I'm not Raivis," Tolys jokes. "I'm sure I'll be fine." He drops the book into his bag. "I guess I'll borrow this for today."
…
At home, Tolys curls up in bed, thumbs open the first fragile, parchment page of Saga ills and begins to read.
"Bow to me… or pay the price.
Many, many years ago, encased within the ice,
Was a ruthless kingdom borne of misery and vice,
At the very top and in her frigid, freezing reign,
Sat a cold young lady who was fourteen years of age!
'Tis the story of Queen Sula Norsdottir, the tyrant ruler of Illvondur. She was crowned queen as a mere child of fourteen years, for nobody else was fit for the position but her,
Scattered 'round her lair there were such costly, pretty jewels,
Tended by her servant who was equally cruel,
And the lovely mare she took for rides was Josephine,
Everything, yes everything, belonged to her, the queen,
And what a tyrant ruler this Sula was! She loved jewels more than her people, and went through gold as though it were parchment. She had a servant, she did, a cold young man by the name of Lukas Steillsson, who tended to her treasures and stayed by her side. Her gold was so plentiful, she could buy anything with it, for that was how wealthy she was.
Losing all my money is not something I would fear,
I'd just tax the people to help fund both cheap and dear,
All those who oppose me will be dead within a day,
I'll make sure that I will get my way!
"Your Highness, we have not a large amount of money remaining. Some of our people are starving, for they cannot afford bread to eat. What should we do?" That was one of the Queen's ministers, who was approaching her one day with such a concern.
"They cannot afford bread? Why, then, do they not eat cake?" Was the dismissive reply of the Queen.
"They have no money, Your Highness, and we have not much money as well."
"We have no money? Well, then, is there not a way to receive more money from the people?"
"If you wish, Your Highness, we could increase the taxes on the people. Their money will go to you."
"Yes. Do so immediately."
And the Queen increased her taxes and robbed the people of Illvondur of all they had. It mattered not to her if they were noble or peasant, their tributes went to her regardless. People would starve, and those who refused to give money would be punished.
"Your Highness," the minister approached her again. "There is a man who has refused to pay his taxes for three months now. He is in the dungeons now. What will we do to him?"
"Kill him, if he continues to refuse. His execution will be held tomorrow."
"As you wish, Your Highness."
"So what will it be? Worship or death?"
Blooming in the cold, a blossom carved of gold,
Evil and hatred in her petals behold,
All of those around me are but such pathetic weeds,
They shall wilt and then provide me with everything I need.
The Queen lived for none, cared for none, and so none cared for her. Perhaps the tale of her attempt to seduce the King of Norjon shall show that.
Allying for gold was the wish of this prideful girl,
Tried to trust a king in blue who never said a word,
But he chose to help another kingdom in the trees,
Ruled by a kind young lady smiling happily.
King Berwald Oxenstierna of Norjon was silent, wealthy and kind-hearted. His kingdom was vast and happy, so unlike the broken one of Illvondur. And so, he refused to marry the Queen Sula, for he did not want to provide gold that caused the Illvondur people to suffer. He chose to marry somebody else. This somebody in question was the Lady Tille Vainamoinen, sweet and clever leader of Lumisa.
Angry that the chance for gold was stole beneath her nose,
She went to the ministers who knelt beneath her throne,
Speaking ever quietly, she said with a smile,
"Go destroy the forest kingdom — make sure they all die."
And how angry Sula was that she would not be allied with such a wealthy kingdom! So angry, in fact, that she went to her council in a rage, not unlike a deadly snowstorm.
"Tille Vainamoinen has taken gold that rightfully belongs to Illvondur," she proclaimed. "She and all of Lumisa must be punished for this!"
"What say you, Your Highness?" One of her ministers asked.
And Sula smiled, kind as an adder. "Be rid of the women, the temptresses who turned King Berwald to them instead of us."
Melting fortresses of steel, they charged throughout the town,
Slaughtering mercilessly with corpses raining down,
Even though this prosperous land was heartlessly razed,
The lady was anything but fazed!
The King, in Norjon, received the devastating news the morning after tragedy struck.
"Your Majesty!" His first minister exclaimed, as the King walked into his meeting room. "Lumisa has been destroyed."
"How?" Was the question of Berwald, who was in great shock.
"It is Queen Sula of Illvondur, Your Majesty. Her army attacked Lumisa in the dead of night. The kingdom was once covered in snow, ice and trees, and had houses of wood and stone. By the time Sula's army left, all the snow and ice and melted, the trees burned down and the house reduced to rubble. All the women are dead, and the men terrified."
"What of Tille?" Berwald asked, concerned about his wife and fellow ruler.
"Dead, Your Majesty. We found Lady Vainamoinen in her gardens. Her gown was bloody, and there was a knife through her chest."
The King left the room to hide his tears. His Tille, his beloved Tille was dead, and her kingdom reduced to nothing at all. He wanted revenge on Sula for committing such an act, and he know only one who could do that. He went into the village, and sought a house he knew far too well. He knocked on its door, and a woman with hair like spun gold answered.
"Berwald!" She shouted. "It has been far too long, my friend. What special occasion brings you here?"
The King sighed. His old friend, simply a villager he met as a child, and yet the only one he could trust with his plight. "Mette. I, for once, require your assistance."
Oh, it's time for tea."
Blooming in the cold, a blossom carved of gold,
Madness and anger in her petals behold,
Such a pretty flower masking misery and scorn
It was deadly, unapproachable with icicle-like thorns.
Mette Dansdatter was a villager in Norjon's capital. She could wield a blade and fight as well as a man, so well that she could have been in the kingdom's army. But she wasn't, sadly, for she was but a village woman, not a wealthy lady borne of a noble. She was whom Berwald played with as a child, before he was crowned King. And, because she was not nobility, she was the only one the King trusted to help avenge his beloved wife,
"You need my help!" Mette was taken back by the King's words. "What could the mighty King of Norjon ask of me?"
Berwald hesitated. Mette was a close friend, but simple and worldly. Would she understand what he wanted? Still, he replied. "Do you remember Tille?"
"Tille Vainamoinen, the Lady of Lumisa? Your beautiful wife? Why, of course! How is she?"
"Tille is dead."
And, hearing that, Mette began to weep. Berwald had never seen his friend break down, but still he continued. "She died by order of the Illvondur Queen. Her kingdom's women died with her."
Mette gasped. "All of Lumisa's women, dead? Dead, because of this Queen? That is horrible!"
The grieving King nodded. "It is horrible indeed. And not only did this Queen bring about the suffering of the Lumisa women, the people in her kingdom are suffering again.
"This Queen really is evil…" the woman mused.
"And so, Mette," He continued. "I wish to bring justice upon this wicked Queen. What about it, my friend? Will you join me?"
And Mette smiled bravely. She returned to her house and retrieved her sword. "Of course! Now, perhaps we should find others to join us."
Such a lady tyrant, she was only doomed to fall,
That was planned by those who'd bring her down once and for all,
Standing at the very front and dressed in bloody red
Was a woman who vowed to avenge a fallen friend!
Berwald gifted Mette with blood-red armour, so that all their followers could see her clearly. Bravely, all of them charged for Illvondur's castle, where Queen Sula stayed. Many of Illvondur followed the rebel's to fight against Sula, and everybody knew just why.
Angry that their suffering had always been snuffed out,
Bravery and hope had washed away the rebels' doubt,
Far too tired from a massacre of jealousy,
All the soldiers fell right down and were left there to bleed.
The soldiers were tired, they had spent too much energy on their attacking Lumisa. And so, the rebels went right for the Queen, all with revenge in their mind — Mette and Berwald wished to avenge a kingdom and its leader, and the Illvondur people wished to be free. They were driven by the thought of liberation, and liberation they were sure to receive!
Smashing locks upon the gates and charging in at last,
Servants chose to run away and very quickly passed,
Weak and helpless was the monarch standing all alone,
Taken from her gilded crystal throne!
They reached the Queen, all alone in her chambers. Her pale skin shone, short silver hair gleamed and her frigid smile sliced like a dagger, yet the rebels were undeterred, and went to seize her. Mette's sword was against her throat, and together, they brought Sula to be imprisoned within her own dungeons.
"I demand you release me!"
Blooming in the cold, a blossom carved of gold,
Anguish and sorrow in her petals behold,
Revolution splits apart her hidden paradise
And it breaks, alongside her beating heart of ice.
The people cheered in the streets! The Queen was captured, and they would suffer no more. Illvondur was to be ruled by the King of Norjon, who was fair and just, different from greedy Sula.
Many, many years ago, encased within the ice,
Was a ruthless kingdom borne of misery and vice,
At the very top and in her frigid, freezing reign,
Sat a cold young lady who was fourteen years of age!
The people of Illvondur, Norjon and the survivors of Lumisa all gathered on the day when Sula was to die. She would be brought to justice at last, they believed, and her iron grasp on the lands freed. It was a day of celebration.
Now she is a captive and just hours away from death,
When the bells will toll at three and take her final breath,
Never losing pride even as she sits in her cell,
No longer a queen she is now on her way to Hell.
And what of Sula herself? She, in her prison cell, was quiet. She did not speak to her captors, or the people who went to taunt her. She gazed at them, dark eyes cold and unyielding, and was still as stone. If her death the once-Queen feared, nobody knew of it.
And the bells have tolled, swinging near the guillotine,
Poised above our lady with its gaping maw of steel,
And just as uncaring, her gaze is cast up high,
Saying this one line as she dies,
She still was silent when brought beneath the guillotine. There was sound of all sorts — there was the shouting of the people, the whispering of the wind, the beating of victorious drums. Not one of those sounds reached Sula. And the mighty church bells tolled! Their ringing gave the rebels courage, and they cheered the loudest when the guillotine's blade fell. Sula Norsdottir was dead!
"Oh, it's time for tea."
Wilting in the cold, a blossom carved of gold,
Evil and hatred in her petals behold,
Modern people sing this song for this ballad retells
An egregious story of the lady borne in Hell.
Sula was named the Daughter of Evil, for all that she did. People spoke of her without fear, but in contempt and relief. Illvondur was free, and its people were happy.
The End
Tolys snaps the book shut, his eyes wide. "I expected something like a fairytale, not a story including revolution, genocide and the execution of teenage girls," he mutters to himself. "I should lend it to Feliks and see if he likes it."
About to call his friend to tell him about the book, Tolys suddenly finds himself yawning. The clock on the wall reads 11:43 p.m.. "I've been reading for so long? Well, I guess telling Feliks can wait 'til tomorrow."
Placing Saga Illson his bedside table, he switches his lamp off and goes to bed.
A/N: The kingdom of Illvondur is based on Lucifenia, Norjon is based on Marlon and Lumisa is based on Elphegort from the original Story of Evil series. Sula is based on Riliane, Berwald is based on Kyle and Tille is based on Michaela. Germaine is also who Mette is based on.