Author's Note: I feel some what apologetic that to mark the five year anniversary of Persephone, I have the penultimate chapter of One Feather. But sadly, the next Persephone chapter just isn't ready yet. I hope you enjoy this one.
One Feather
And Now?
Standing outside the door to her coronation ceremony, Sarah fought hard to control her breathing. Air came in shallow pants that barely reached her lungs. She smoothed her hands over her shimmering gossamer gown, willing her tremors away. The action reminded her of her first disastrous meeting with the court. It reminded her of her first time facing the Labyrinth; she'd desperately tried to self-soothe then too.
The heavy door opened before her. Sarah stole one final deep breath and stepped forward to face her unlikely destiny. Inside the vast royal chamber, the faces swirled and blurred, but she didn't feel faint. She set her mind on completing her test of merit. She needed to cross from the far end of the chamber to the dais. Despite extensive research she couldn't glean any other details.
The task sounded easy enough, but with everything she knew of the Underground, it couldn't possibly be. Sarah predicted untold dangers: monsters, riddlers, pits of fire, rioting goblins, trap doors, duels… She swallowed, set her jaw, and set along the straight path through the crowd.
Step after step, she crept towards the dais as regally as she could. Her neck prickled with the threat of a challenge. She felt the small hairs stand straight up. She took another step and another. Nothing happened. The prickle refused to diminish. Sarah braced herself, scanning with her eyes without truly turning her head. Her heart hammered in her chest. She walked and waited for danger. The murmur of the crowd alerted her. She stiffened and hesitated. She knew she couldn't stop.
She drew near the dais. Her breathing roared in her ears. The images of the royals around her started to solidify and clear. Part of her wanted to study their faces, but Sarah wouldn't let herself be distracted.
She dropped to her knees before the high king without once looking up at him. Again, she felt the crushing weight on her vertebra as his power tested hers. This time, her magic pushed back immediately, and with a gasp from the crowd, the weight left. The rest of the court solidified in her peripheral vision.
The cool metal of a sword touched her neck.
Sarah raised her head as a tiny fair-haired child placed a golden circlet on her head. After all her trials, it was such a simple ceremony. A faint smile touched her lips.
The Majesterium began speaking in his strange shifting voice, but this time Sarah noticed odd familiarity she couldn't place. It itched at her ears.
"You swear to uphold the laws of the Goblin Kingdom, protect its denizens, and meet out justice. You swear fealty to the Majesterium, your sovereign and guardian. Your position entails extreme loyalty and absolute support for the Majesterium. You shall love me as yourself and above yourself. Do you swear it?"
"I swear." Now knowing the blessing and burden of her kingdom, Sarah found the words surprisingly easy to say. She raised her eyes to the high king's shifting gaze.
"Then rise as the Goblin Queen." He extended his gloved hand.
Sarah stared at him as she stood. The kaleidoscope of her lord's face swirled faster. She caught a flash of brown and one of blue on the Majesterium's chameleon visage. Green and fierce hazel to inspire complete loyalty. Glitter. High cheekbones and fine-arched brows that demanded submission. A narrow mouth trusted no one. Wild hair—white gold. She saw harsh ice and a gentle warmth humming beneath it. Then suddenly, the strange familiarity, and that nagging longing clicked into place as the Majesterium's features took their true form.
Sarah gasped. "You?"
"Congratulations Majesty," the old king, her former nemesis, remarked with a casually satisfied smile. "I never could have chosen better."
Glancing at her feet in bewilderment, she saw their linked hands and snatched hers away. "What?" They could have been the only people in the room. A few hours ago she'd have given anything to see him breathing again. Now, her eyes stung and she didn't know what to think or say. She could barely breathe herself. "You're…you can't be…no," she stammered, finding herself backing up without intending.
His eyes bored into hers as if to encourage her to accuse him of playing her false. "All vestiges of my life as Goblin King gone now, thanks to a petit coup d'état. I could hardly rule the underground and my smaller domain. I hope you understand my dear."
"I'm sorry." Sarah shook her head. The moisture in her eyes clouded her vision. Her crown put painful pressure on the tops of her ears. "I can't talk about this right now."
"Sarah…" he drawled her name.
Sarah wondered if he thought she'd turn around like her little-girl-self and return to him, running to his side, somehow asking for forgiveness. For half a heartbeat, she wanted to, but her rage satisfied her more. Instead, she turned on her heal, held her head high, and walked out of her own coronation.
x x x x
Shakily, she shimmered into existence in her royal bedchamber. Sarah paused at the settee to scrub her eyes with the back of her hand. Her hand caressed the green velvet, leaving smears on the fabric. She fluffed her pillow, preferring to go to bed rather than act the wretch and sob anymore.
Sarah looked over her shoulder, through the threshold to the elaborate bed within which she'd never dared to sleep. She strode over to the bed and pulled back the hangings. Then she ripped them down. She didn't want to make it hers, but to challenge and inhabit his full position. The elaborate carved bed belonged to her now. She pulled back the covers, mussed them, and snuggled in deep. Despite her exhaustion, she tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position in the luxurious feather bed. It felt too good. It smelled like him.
The brass knocker sounded against the heavy door.
Sarah jumped, cursing as she caught her foot in the sheet. Besides the goblins who were supposedly always locked out of her suite, she'd never met anyone else in the castle. And the goblins were too short for the knocker.
"Come in," she sneered, sure of whom she'd face.
He opened the door quietly and closed it behind him. "I thought we should talk," he stated simply. "Your office?"
She glared at him. "Sure, my office."
Sarah slid out of bed, refusing to concede any ground.
Clasping his hands behind his back, he led her back to the royal office.
She sat on the desk, slouching. He stood across from her, head slightly bowed, looking up through his wild hair. For a dead man, he seemed relatively unchanged. They stared at each other in silence.
"So talk," Sarah finally said. Nothing he could say would allow her to forgive him for the abusive emotional rollercoaster she'd ridden the past year.
"You're being a little hostile my dear," he observed, casually studying the tiny changes she'd made to the room. "It doesn't befit a ruler."
She rolled her eyes at him for daring to scold her, and for calling the kettle black.
He merely held her gaze.
Sarah sighed. "Why?" she asked, surprised at how small and vulnerable her voice sounded.
He nodded. For a moment, Sarah thought she really saw the man in him, another being almost like herself. The vision faded. "Simply stated, I found the former Majesterium's corruption intolerable. And being the next in line for the throne anyway…I staged a small coup."
"You lied to me."
He lowered his eyes, betraying a twinge of guilt. "I like to think of my metaphorical death as the Goblin King, since my life is now so completely different, as bending the truth rather than lying."
Sarah leveled him with her harshest glare. No excuse could undue the way she'd overturned her life to take over the kingdom he deserted. He'd abandoned their citizens to a novice ruler, if not abandoned them all together. He'd taken the joy in her life and challenged her dreams. He'd made her distance herself from Toby.
"I thought you would not agree with me." The corners of his mouth rose very slightly as their eyes locked. "In total honesty, I am not sure I believe myself."
"Why?" she asked again, chewing her lower lip. "Why me? Why did you do this to me?"
The old king shrugged. "If I apologized, would you feel any better?"
"No," Sarah replied without thinking, surprised by her spontaneous response. "It's hard sure, harder every day sometimes, but I love this place. I've learned so much…and I think I've started to teach some too." Tears gathered in her eyes at the small improvements she'd started to make. Despite all the torments of monarchy, Sarah knew she could never give it up. At the same time, no other task could ever fulfill all her dreams.
His smile widened. "I thought we were two of a kind that way."
"You didn't answer my question," Sarah observed, starting to enjoy the game despite her anger. At the very least, he made a good sparring partner.
"I knew you would be the best," he said simply.
Smirking, she raised a brow at him.
He might have blushed, for his porcelain pale complexion showed signs of life. She found his discomfort amusing and charming.
"I like to think I continue to learn, improve, and rectify my mistakes. I wanted you back. Another chance. " He paused. "I missed you."
"You could have called…or something."
"Would you have spoken to me?"
Sarah pursed her lips, studying her feet. "I honestly don't know."
Suddenly he was at her side. One finger lifted her chin until she met his strange eyes again. They seemed kinder than she'd ever thought him capable. The shifting colors sparkled and intensified. She felt the smoldering heat of his skin through his thin glove.
"Another mistake on my part then," he murmured.
His breath caressed her face, but this time, he was real: here, warm, and alive. His hands moved to her shoulders, a gentle weight without restraint.
"What?" She couldn't think of anything to say.
"I underestimated you."
She licked her lips. "Are you apologizing to me?"
"Yes," his mouth brushed her forehead, firm yet gentle. "I think I am."