Beta-reader: Dragonblooded
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The Shadow Queen
Nature has few laws, laws that need to be followed. Nature always instils balance. One could call it a law of balance.
If the world slipped over the cliff into chaos, a new order would be created. Natural balance governs everything and anything. Why water in an open bowl eventually disappears. No one realizes it, but everyone lives according to it.
Even evil must exist to balance good. One would cease to exist without the other.
But the world is unpredictable. Sometimes the weight on the imaginary scales of the world move and nature has to work its miracle to achieve balance again. As much as this sounds like justice, it is not. More often the scale moved in favour of the dark.
Once in a while, when one might expect it the least, it favoured the good. And it came as a surprise, when a drop of light appeared in the darkest place of all Alagaësia. This sparkly drop landed in the pan of the imaginary scales and the scales moved towards good.
A boy was born to Loviatar – the Malign Queen.
All were surprised. The royal bloodline of Norvedrgarde descended only through girls, and only through daughters until then. While some were pleased, many were worried. They did not welcome this change. But it should not have been a shock to anyone. In the end, in the heart of their city, ruled the Queen of Doom. It was as if they hoped that even though the plague had caught the rest of the world, they would be spared because they housed it.
For more than five years everyone cautiously watched the prince, named Örendisläst – Ören - grow. It was then when Qybern decided to break the silence looming over the royal family. He went to see the queen, rather hesitant about it, but persuaded by the dark lurking shadow inside his head.
The prophecy cannot be broken. Act now! He could feel the urgency behind the words. He knocked on his queen's door and waited until he was invited in.
"My queen." Qybern's eyes slipped to the black crown sitting on her head. Loviatar looked up to him. She had aged over the course of years, since they had brought her back to Qybern to nurse her back to health. And he understood why they needed to act now.
Loviatar looked at him, her expression empty, and nodded to him to come closer. "What is it, Qybern? Do not be afraid to talk to me. You saved my life, and for that I will always be grateful."
"I am aware that this is not a matter I should intervene with, but I feel it is my duty to say so. I have been around for many years and we cannot allow your bloodline to go extinct," Qybern said carefully.
The queen frowned and looked back at him. "Of course. My son will take care of it. Where is the problem?"
"What if something happened to your son, my queen? What then?" asked Qybern, the anxiety lacing his voice.
"Are you suggesting that someone is planning to kill my son?" The queen raised her voice. She stood up, and a cautious spark appeared in her eyes. She minimized the distance between them and loomed over Qybern, with an authority only the title of queen could bestow. "Who? It best not be those who call themselves nobles in my own kingdom," Loviatar murmured angrily.
During the many years when Loviatar was gone, twenty-seven elves rose amongst the others and formed something that Norvedrgarde eventually started calling the elven nobility. They really were something like guildmasters, chosen by the people with the same interests to defend their needs. They did not have royal blood.
When the queen returned, she had tolerated them in good will, since the kingdom had not fallen apart without her. But only a few elves from this nobility were pleased with a future king instead of a queen, and Loviatar knew this all too well.
"N-no! That is not what I meant at all!" Qybern tried to calm the queen while backing away from her, but his feet were glued to the ground.
"Then what danger is my son in?!" The queen shouted now, her body tensed, prepared to protect her son.
She looked into Qybern's eyes and what she saw made her skip a breath. Behind her servant's eyes a dark presence lay. It had always been there, but only now was it so close to its surface. Because only now had it really felt fear.
Suddenly, Qybern's hands shot up and clutched the queen's hand between his fingers. "You shall have another child, just in case something happened to your precious son." It was Qybern who said it, but the voice did not belong to him. This voice was empty of emotions, of any inflection of the ancient language.
In that second, the darkness in Qybern's eyes transferred to Loviatar's. "I will have another child," repeated the queen in an emotionless voice.
As Qybern's hands fell away from the queen, the darkness melted into their eyes. They both looked confused. Neither remembered why they had spoken and why they stood so close to each other.
They parted.
Not even a year later, another baby was born to Loviatar. A girl.
She was named Pangari.
Loviatar pushed her away from her as soon as possible, handing her to her maid. It was so unlike how she was with her son, who she had cradled for as long as she could. The queen always looked at Pangari with a strange confused expression. And the nobles around her noticed it. The more distance the queen put between herself and her daughter, the closer the nobles felt to Pangari.
The years flew by. Ören was soon fourteen years old. He was growing to become a good monarch, just like his mother was before she changed. Instead of fun, his days were filled with royal duties, and he enjoyed it.
One day, Ören had a lesson in diplomacy with his mother, who lovingly taught him everything she knew. He was a bright boy and caught on quickly. There was a smile on his face that reached his green eyes as he enjoyed the lesson. His brown hair was combed properly, not allowing anything to fall out of order. It would not be worthy of a future king.
"Unpredictability is a key to a survival. Never let anyone figure out your routine or you can find yourself easily stabbed in the back," explained Loviatar, her own experience from Éwayëna. She inhaled to continue, but a soft knock on the door interrupted her.
The door opened to reveal her young daughter. There was nothing similar between the siblings. Pangari was pale, like most of her ancestors, with silver hair and cold eyes. Unlike her brother, she rarely smiled, and there was something too adult in her eyes for a child her age.
"What?" asked her mother in irritation. "I told you not to disturb us."
The girl calmly came to them and sat on the ground next to her brother, since there were only two chairs in the room. Clearly, the room was not supposed to be for two pupils. "May I join the lesson?" asked Pangari hopefully.
"No. This is a lesson worthy only of a future monarch. Your brother," said the queen impatiently.
"I might be a future monarch, too. And I need to know how to be a good one," said Pangari.
The queen frowned with contempt hidden in her eyes, but Pangari still saw. "That is not going to happen. If you want to be a good princess, be obedient," advised her mother. "Leave."
Pangari seemed to swallow some other arguments she had prepared, collected herself, and left the room without looking back. She did not want her mother to see the tears in her eyes. With a dignity not suiting her age, she walked through the hallway towards the main room.
There the tempting black crown was seated, when her mother did not wear it, like then. Pangari knew she was not supposed to be there, but how could her mother know, when she was so busy with her darling brother? She seated herself on the throne, put the crown on her lap, and closed her eyes. Soon, a warm mind enveloped her and soothed the ache of her mother's rejection.
Pangari did not understand what the crown was, but she did not care. It whispered nice words to her, and that was all that mattered.
"Princess, you are not supposed to be here," said a voice from the other side of the room. Pangari was startled, but managed not to show it. She exactly knew how not to look suspicious. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at Qybern. He was her favourite person. She liked him far more than her mother.
"I know." She did not give an excuse for her presence, just acknowledged Qybern's.
No words needed to be said for Qybern to know what had happened. Again. He slowly walked towards her and knelt next to the throne, so they would be face to face. "I have a gift for you. I know you are too young to carry weapons around, but I could not bear the thought of you being defenceless if something happened." He reached into his pocket and presented her with a dagger in a small sheath.
Pangari's eyes sparkled with childish joy, finally looking like someone her own age. She reached for the dagger and Qybern willingly handed it over. "It is called Domia um Dagr. Dominance over dawn. Use it to protect yourself and promise to be careful with it." Qybern smiled at her and stroked her hair gently.
"I promise," whispered Pangari. She clutched the sheath tighter in her tiny hands, finally feeling appreciated.
It was understandable to her that her mother's main focus was to prepare her brother for his future role. A few occasions of neglect were tolerable and excusable. But that day was not a rare occasion. Over the years, moments like that cumulated.
The years passed by and everyone grew older – except for Qybern. As the queen got more and more tired, she transferred many of her duties onto Ören. Soon, he ruled the Winter Kingdom, while his mother watched from her chambers, too tired to attend to it anymore.
Ören tried to be a good ruler, but he struggled with resistance from the nobility. Most of them made it difficult for him to rule by expecting him to fulfil their ridiculous demands. Only a few of them supported his decisions. But he never complained, and bore it as a part of his role in the world.
The guildmaster of agriculture was especially supportive. Norvedrgarde stood on a very strategic place. Beneath the city lay a system of naturally created corridors surrounding rivers, which penetrated the earth's crust and then returned as hot springs. The water of these rivers met in a lake under the city, from which the rivers parted again and flew their ways.
Ören used the heat from the lake to nurture certain types of plants which would not grow in Norvedrgarde otherwise. The seeds he had delivered from the elves in Du Weldenvarden, who accepted him as a skilled leader of the Winter Kingdom and were willing to trade with him. Even various books from the elves of Du Weldenvarden were added to the outdated library in Norvedrgarde.
The city was built from a black ore, which seemed to consume a lot of the little daylight they received that the plants needed. Ören and some of his supporters created a special paint made of white pebbles scattered in the north. They painted the flowerbeds with this paint to maximize the amount of daylight they received.
That earned him support of some other nobles. But many remained faithful to his sister. If it was not for their resistance, he would not care about their loyalty at all. His sister's presence complicated the situation. It was only a matter of days and a few letters in exchange until he had a solution at hand.
Later that day he paid his sister a visit. He knocked on her door and patiently waited for a few seconds for an answer. But he got none.
Ören opened the door and entered the dim room. Only a few candles were lit, casting many shadows on the walls around them. On the bed sat his sister, toying with her infamous dagger. "You were not invited in," she said coldly, not looking at her older brother.
"You did not answer," returned Ören. He walked closer to her and sat on the edge of her bed, trying to mimic a close sibling relationship. "Pack your things. We are going to Ellesméra."
His sister finally looked at him, suspiciously. "What for? You never take me on your diplomatic trips," she answers with a contempt with which she was regarded for years.
"You will marry the prince of Du Weldenvarden," stated her brother assertively.
"Pardon me? I am not marrying anyone. Does Mother know about this? I am not some broodmare to be sold." His sister raised from her bed in anger, trying to put more distance between herself and her brother.
Ören only shook his head. "That is not a choice of yours. It is necessary to stabilize our fragile alliance. They will not treat you poorly, I made sure of that. And yes, Mother knows and agrees. She knows we are leaving, one of us for good."
"Yes, how typical of her. She only cares for you anyway."
"That's not true!" exclaimed Ören, but that was where the conversation ended. "You will marry him and you will merge with him in a wedding ritual," ended her brother the conversation by leaving the room.
"What ritual?" Shouted Pangari after him, but he was already gone.
Du Ásja Samför, spoke to her a strange presence, which invaded her mind for a second before it disappeared into nothing again. The princess flinched and looked around cautious for an intruder. Never had she felt something like that. For a while she believed she just hallucinated it, since it sounded so weak and as if the being itself was fragile and very tired.
Yet, the words were too specific for her to let it go.
Soon, she climbed over the wobbly stairs leading into her Kingdom's library, where ancient books and old scrolls were cumulated over the years. She allowed her subconscious mind to lead her. Her body seemed to know exactly where to go, without her conscience interfering with it.
Her fingers glided over the dust-covered leather covers of various books, until they found the one book they were searching for. Pangari removed it from the shelf and immediately started flipping through the pages, until she encountered those words: Du Ásja Samför.
Her eyes quickly scanned through the old curly writings on the yellowish parchment in disbelief. With enraged scream and fury flaming in her eyes Pangari ripped part of a page away and crumbled her in her palms. She walked around the room, until she found a candle and set it on fire in order to burn the damn parchment to nothing but ash. As the tiny fire came to life it casted her shadow on the wall behind her. Even the shadow seemed enraged.
She would not let them have her true name. She would not let them abuse her powers.
The next day they left Norvedrgarde. Ören was very thorough and made sure only his loyal guards went with them, leaving his sister's guards behind. His sister remained silent the entire way to Ellesméra.
He tried to gently remind her of her manners once they reached Ellesméra. But he was met only with deadly stares and, for his own safety, backed down.
They were greeted with a huge feast upon their arrival, held outside in an opening between trees, which the elves there seemed to honour. At the head of the opening was the infamous Menoa Tree. The forest offered shadow from the scorching sun and thus created the perfect place to celebrate with various delicacies such as berry wine and mead.
This was a huge event in history. Finally, these two diverse kingdoms would be united, and a peace was ensured. Everyone but one person celebrated. Pangari did not bother to introduce herself to her future husband, who looked at her with admiration laced with fear. She watched her brother with hatred.
Ören raised his glass filled with the infamous elven wine and toasted. "Let us drink to our happy couple. Shall their marriage be just as peaceful as the peace they are ensuring for us." The others raised their glasses. Only Pangari did not.
The silence loomed over the opening as they all waited for her to do the same.
"I am not marrying anyone," she stated, her voice soft, yet sharp as a blade. Her brother frowned at her.
"You will," he said sternly, clenching his jaw.
A dark presence glittered in her eyes for a second. "If you need a reason, I will give you one," she said viciously. She snatched her dagger from the sheath tied to her ankle and thrust it into the heart of her fiancé and twisted.
All the poor elf managed to do was gasp and look up into Pangari's eyes, lost in the dark shadow coming forth from within. Then the light inside his eyes disappeared.
It was as if the world stopped for a minute, the weight of the imaginary scales suddenly twitching, and eventually, favouring the dark balance pan.
The guards immediately jumped from their chairs, but shock was still written all over their faces. But Pangari paid it no mind. She pulled the dagger out of the prince's chest, straightened herself, and looked towards her brother. The lights cast her shadow on the tree behind her. The shadow seemed to suddenly grow and darken.
As the guards finally neared her, the shadow gained its own life and attacked the closest guard's shadow. Suddenly, the guard fell to the ground without being touched, his throat slashed.
Soon, the same happened to everyone, but the prince Ören.
Pangari, nothing in her way, made her way towards her brother, leaving her shadow behind her. For the first time, there was fear in her brother's eyes. He held a sword in front of himself, prepared to fight for his life.
He was well aware of the odd magic coursing through their blood, and he knew that his sister had been awakened. All his life he had worked towards being a good monarch, and now it had all been ripped away from him. "We could have had peace," he said with a trembling, defeated voice. "We could have had it all, and you ruined it. But I am not letting you take my life, too."
His sister smiled wickedly, her irises devoured by the darkness completely. "You said one of us is leaving for good. And it is not me." She fearlessly charged at him.
Ören swung his sword at her. He would probably have hit her if someone had not tackled him to the ground. The air was forced out of his lungs and the sword wrenched from his hand. He looked around in confusion. No one had landed on top of him.
And that was when he noticed the sinister silence which fell over the opening. He looked around and all the elves, his and theirs alike, were slaughtered.
Meanwhile, his sister knelt next to him and smiled at him with dark pleasure. "We may share the same blood, but the magic lives inside me. Your life goes in vain," she finished and slowly pressed the dagger inside his heart.
Loviatar knew something had happened. She waited for days for her beloved son to return, but it did not happen. No message came either. Her powers whispered to her and warned her.
So when the door to her chamber burst open, she was not taken aback. She looked at her daughter, the monster she created and immediately knew what happened. "You never should have lived. You are nothing but doom for this kingdom."
"That I am. In the end, the Malign Queen created my brother to doom this kingdom and then the Malign Queen created me to doom the rest of the world," she said. A smile appeared on her face.
The light from the hall shining on Pangari cast a shadow on the wall behind her mother. The shadow moved and gripped Loviatar's neck and squeezed.
Loviatar lapped for air which never reached her lungs. She tried to fight her invisible attacker, tried to touch him in order to poison him. But her powers were useless against the shadow. The queen's body hit the floor, her pale skin veiled with blue.
The little drop of light on the side of good was nothing compared to the evil his sister caused. The weight of the scales rapidly changed its course in favour of the dark balance pan, returning everything into the old rails, where there is no justice in the world, and where evil is favoured more.