Natalya could not remember the wedding. In fact, she refused to.
The event was hardly visible through her watery eyes. Her memory was so foggy that she thought she had died during her dreaded day, but she was brought back to Earth when her new husband held her hands and slid the silver ring onto her fourth finger. It was cold and heavy, and it was in that moment when she understood what the ancients meant when they said marriage was imprisoning.
Her brother kissed her forehead before she took her place in front of the priest. It was a gesture he did for her only a handful of times, but his lips felt sinister. They were toxic and cursed, and his poison flowed through her body upon contact.
"You are the only man I will ever love," she whispered sternly.
"If you love me, you will go through with the marriage," was his reply. He forced her by the shoulders to turn around and march up the steps of the stage, her pride trailing behind her. Katyusha sniffled at her side in front of her own beaming groom.
She did not truly become alive again until she was brought into the bedroom she now shared with Magnus. When the man twisted the doorknob and pushed the wooden door out of their path, she became too aware of her impending doom. They stood across from each other, before the bed. Though Natalya was living her worst nightmare, she was thankful for her brother's decision to allow their consummation to happen without his presence.
She didn't dare look at Magnus, and instead kept her eyes to the floor. Minutes passed, and neither of them moved. He had to be mocking her. If she looked up, he was going to be staring daggers into her. Curiosity soon got the best of her, and she braced herself for defense for when she lifted her gaze.
Magnus' eyes were on the wall beside them. With her sudden movement, he focused on the young woman in front of him. He blinked, cocked his head, and then in an instant, grabbed her wrists and kissed her. She bit the sour tongue that lodged itself between her lips. He yelped in protest as she gripped his own wrists and headbutted him. The man tripped over his steps and landed backwards onto the bed, where Natalya straddled him and lunged at his throat. Her petite fingers were of no use, however, because he was able to pry them away from his body without a struggle.
"I thought you would have liked your men warm," he panted, heat rising to his cheeks.
"I like it best when they have their lips sewn shut," she growled back. Tears welled in her glassy eyes when he erupted in a hoarse laughter. With a surprising gentleness, he pushed her off of his hips and made himself comfortable on the bed.
"I think it is best if we go to sleep. I am too tired for marriage rights tonight."
She whipped her fist into his firm stomach, eliciting a groan from him.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
"Because I paid to marry you?"
Another dead punch. "What are you going to do with my brother?"
"Why do you assume I will hurt Lord Ivan?" he asked as he pulled himself to his side to face her. "I would never lay a hand on my brother-in-law."
"You are barbaric," Natalya spat. She scraped a fingernail along his hand, stopping at a knuckle. His finger held a ring, which had an unfamiliar, looping design clinging to its surface. "What even is this? Why is your jewelry so ugly?"
Magnus crossed his arms under his head. "My ring has links on it to remind me that the gods will always be by my side. They help me fight and kill," he said casually.
She yanked her hovering hand away with such speed that it was possible to think he was on fire.
The duke closed his eyes and hummed. "I figured you wouldn't want a ring like mine. The one on your finger is from your brother."
Silence followed. Natalya twisted the cursed silver under her knuckle. Upon removal, she found her brother's initials inscribed in the band. Tears began to form in her eyes, and she turned away from her husband to wipe them.
Magnus' playful voice interrupted her crying. "That fool you have is funny-"
"No he is not!" she exclaimed. "He is an abomination to mankind, and the worst my brother has ever had! His mother was probably cursed when he was conceived."
Magnus let his fingers run through his sticky hair. "Worst? What happened to the other fools?"
"They had their hands cut off," her flat voice stated.
Another silence followed. Magnus' face was painted with a dumbfounded look that made Natalya want to punch him again. When she was younger, she would run to either of her siblings' rooms and let them hold her until her nerves subsided so she could sleep. Tonight was different. She was no longer a little girl, her brother made that clear. She was a lady. If she wanted to keep her castle locked in the mountains of her kingdom, then she had to be her own nighttime hug.
She stuck her tongue out in thought. Magnus' eyes had fluttered shut, his arms across his chest. Natalya pondered the difficulty of draping her legs over his waist and strangling him, but knew she was too weak to even form her fingers around his neck. Besides, if she was going to murder him, she didn't want to give him a death he would potentially enjoy.
The ring returned to its new home on her finger. Her lips formed an equally curved, sinister, smile.
When she awoke, the side that Magnus slept in was distressed and empty.
Natalya released a relaxed sigh as she lay under her blanket. Perhaps her arranged marriage was an awful dream, and she could continue living a pleasant life with her brother and sister. Maybe Ivan's illness was part of her imagination as well, and when she joined her family in the downstairs hall she would eat breakfast without having to hear him melodically hack into his utensils. Still, she remained in bed for a moment to confirm her hopeful suspicion, only to be greeted by Magnus' fur cloak stalking her from a chair in a corner of the room. Her pillow covered her muffled screams. When her tantrum subsided, she threw the heavy fur onto the floor and stomped on it.
She found her sister in the courtyard garden. The woman's braided, dirty blonde hair was recognizable from Natalya's bedroom window, and she rushed down the staircases of the castle to meet her. Katyusha fiddled with a chain of looped flowers as she strolled through a row of hedges; they were the same hedges that Natalya used to hide behind as a child, their main purpose being to scare her sensitive sister when she rounded the bushy corner.
Her sister held a curvaceous figure. Katyusha's cheeks were full, and rosy against her fair skin. Natalya, in comparison was slender and petite. Her hooded eyes gave her an intimidating beauty. Her corn-silk hair was long enough to blow out of her face when it became undone. Needless to say, they hardly looked like sisters.
Katyusha wasn't phased by the other's attempt at scaring her. In fact, the glowing aura that normally adorned her wasn't present. She gave her sister a shy smile before greeting her. Her eyes screamed with panic.
Natalya picked at the dirt under her nails. "You're skipping breakfast too, I see?"
"I have been praying for Ivan's health. I fear God may have other plans."
"Maybe your prayers are making it worse." Natalya teased, much to her sister's annoyance.
"Do not say that! When was the last time you bent your knees to pray?"
"Last night, actually." The younger sister leaned in to the other's ear. "Right in front of my new husband. Prayers taste worse when they are forced into you."
Katyusha released a disgusted groan, while Natalya cackled. "I am kidding, Kat. I am not letting that man take my virginity."
The elder moaned once more. "Who raised you?" She brought Natalya in for a hug. As she held the limp woman in her arms, she added, "Maybe if you didn't spend so much time watching the men out here, you would have a kinder mouth."
She wasn't completely wrong. Natalya spent much of her free time observing the servants from their garden gazebo. Her favorite days were the ones where her brother's soldiers trained in the courtyard. The men would knock each other to the ground and reemerge on their feet with trails of blood running down their faces. She was trained in formal dancing, but it was not her favorite style. Her preferred form of dancing was the one that involved receiving splinters from wooden practice swords, but that was a tune that only men could partake in.
As if on cue, an aggravated shout came from the fenced-in arena. The two women twisted their necks to find a tunic-clad Tolys hovering over a fallen soldier. He stuck his hand out to help the other get back to his feet, his other hand gripping a worn-down, wooden sword. Natalya's eyes were fixated on the odd angle that the unnamed man's wrist created, and the shy coos that escaped his mouth when he tried moving the joint.
"Sister," she began, her eyes not leaving the violent scene in front of them. "Did you consummate your marriage?"
Katyusha remained still.
"Kat-"
"Hmm?" The elder hummed, a coy grin forming on her lips.
"You did , didn't you?" Natalya grabbed her sister by her dress sleeves, making the other gasp. "You let that man fuck you?"
"Hush!" Kat tried pulling away from the woman and her rising voice, but the other was stronger than anticipated. Her face grew red as a tear trickled from her right eye. She pulled her sister close to her large breasts once more for another hug.
"I didn't want to do it," she moaned into Natalya's hair. "I am not ready to be a wife! I love children, but I cannot be a mother right now. I would much rather be a nun locked away in a convent for the rest of my earthly years!"
"That makes two of us," Natalya mumbled sarcastically. Part of her wished she had the ability to bow down to a heavenly being. She declared herself too mundane to believe in God; the myriad of flowers that overtook the courtyard, the way her brother smiled, the victorious shouting that followed the kingdom's win against invaders, none of it showed itself to be spectacular in her eyes. There were things that happened, and things that appeared in certain ways, but she couldn't bring herself to find God's touch in them. The holy teachers told her life was unique, but she could easily find things to improve.
"What if we will kill them?"
"W-what?"
"We will murder our husbands!" Natalya rushed to cover her mouth upon realizing her own volume. "Our problems will be solved!"
"B-but the kingdom! Ivan-"
"We will rule together. A king is not a king without his queen, so how powerful is a kingdom with two queens? When Ivan passes, everything will stay in our name! None of it will go to those fuck heads-"
"Get those evil thoughts out of you head this instant," Katyusha hissed. Her anger showed itself in rare occasions, though something about her naturally shy demeanor being turned on its head made her sister giddy.
"More like, 'Get those evil men out of our beds!'" Natalya knew if she touched her face it would be warm. Excitement fueled her like a dry fire. She could see it mirrored in her sister's growing pupils.
"Think about it, Sister. Our husbands will be gone, and if Ivan passes, we will have total reign over the country. You can live in a nunnery if you'd like; you can even be the first deflowered nun!"
Katyusha gasped with disgust. She retracted herself away, and turned to walk in the opposite direction. Her sister, however, made her stop in her tracks.
"What did he do to you, Kat? Hmm?" She held her hands behind her back as she circled the elder. "Did he strip you of your clothing? Did he caress you in places you do not even touch yourself? Tell me about the sounds you made to please him, to-"
"Fine!" An invisible space had formed between the two women. In a shaky whisper, she said, "I will join you."
Natalya had been called a bitch enough times to evolve a sixth scent for smelling secrets. Humans were not what interested her. At times, she found herself daydreaming of the life that came with being a prized hunting hound.
The younger sister grabbed the other once more. She squeezed her sweaty hands and gave each knuckle a kiss.
"Good."
"But! I do not want to do it. I...I do not know how to kill!" Kat finished with a barely audible whisper. Glistening tears rolled down her full cheeks.
"I will take care of everything. Go, go." Natalya shoved the other away from her. "Pretend you know nothing."
The elder made the sign of the cross over her body, then did as she was told and scurried away from her sister. Nat felt her lips curl into a smirk. She loved Katyusha, but she loved her submissive nature a tad bit more. When she turned the corner, Natalya waited a moment before turning back to the courtyard.
"Hey, Tolys! You dog shit eating dick! Get your ass over here!"
She watched as the knight shrunk. The few men around him cackled at her calling. Tolys threw his weapon to the ground and shamefully walked over to the woman. The closer he grew, the less she wanted him in her sight. His hair shone with oil in the summer sun, and beads of sweat clung to his exposed skin. Still, she focused on her spontaneous plan, and tried to set his qualities aside.
"I'm a married woman now," she said when he approached the gate that separated them.
"So I've heard, and hello to you, too."
"I don't want to be one."
"That's most unfortunate." The end of his statement sounded more like a question than it did as a blunt response.
His attitude annoyed her. She knew that he knew better than to mock her, but his inability to understand her bothered her even more. The rare, passing breeze that swept her ashen hair did nothing to cool her.
"Enough of this horse shit." Her fists clenched. Before she could rethink her options, she blurted out, "I know you're a virgin. If you kill Magnus and Sadiq, I'll sleep with you."
Tolys' eyes widened. "You'll what ?!"
"Fuck you, have sex with you, lay on my back-"
"Natalya, I...you know my virtues. I'm not going to needlessly kill someone because you don't like them."
Those damned virtues. Honesty, justice, and nobility, amongst others on the list, had tied the poor man into being the quaking knight he was. Tolys, as serious as he was, took them to heart. Corruption didn't flow through his veins, and for some reason, it angered her.
"Besides, I'm saving it. You know, for marriage, if that happens one day…" Seemingly lost in thought, Tolys' eyes rolled and he cocked his head to the side.
Still, she reached out to gently grab his hands that had been resting on the fence.
"I'll be your wife."
A light pink dusted his already red cheeks. "But you just said you don't want to be married!"
"Use your head and look at the man I'm married to. He's not one of us! Don't tell me you don't hate them. You've been fighting them for what, half a year? He's some pagan from across the ocean, and he paid to marry me."
Natalya had to swallow the bile rising in her throat. She squeezed the palm of his hands, and gave him one of her courtly smiles. In the kindest, most soothing voice she could muster, she said,
"If you say yes, I will know your intentions and admiration for me are true. I don't want to have to order you to go through with this."
Tolys lowered his eyes to their embraced hands. To her satisfaction, he gave hers an assuring squeeze. Then, he slid out of her grip, bent down to one knee, and kissed her knuckles through the fence.
"Anything for you, my lady."
The priest lived on the outskirts of the kingdom. It took Tolys half of an hour to reach him on horseback, but the tranquility of the pathway that lead to the holy cell never failed to cleanse him of his woes. As soon as the city was behind him, the rustling fields and harmonizing birds accompanied his journey. At one point, he looked forward to visiting the friar and having the man ease his constant worrying with prayer. When the king fell ill, his trips were shrouded with dread.
As a devoted soldier to the king, he was used to the lower class citizens in the community hiding from him. It was a common occurrence; the clashing of his chainmail tolled through the dirt-coated streets, and akin to a gush of wind, the citizens would rush through their errands and slam their doors behind them. Tolys grew to accept his lonely fate. He loved the people who resided in the kingdom, despite not knowing their names. The bloody cross that adorned his tunic held his stigma.
This time, however, his daydreaming was interrupted.
His horse gently trotted down the worn path that lead out of the city. It tripped occasionally when its hooved trampled over sprouting weeds, though Tolys adjusted himself to the bumpy ride. With every whinny that erupted from the animal, he would lean close to its midnight mane and whisper encouraging words. Then, they would continue down the road and the knight would watch the shredded clouds that hung over the city until the cycle needed repeating. Tolys couldn't prepare himself for the sudden halting of his horse, however, and the jolt almost threw him over its head.
Standing in front of his horse's path was a child. The boy's hair was matted, and his bangs were tied into two pigtails. His tunic was crusty. Without realizing that he was moving, Tolys dismounted the animal and squatted in front of the stranger, who thrust a freshly plucked flower into his chest.
"This is for you, sir," the boy said. Tolys twirled the stem between his fingers.
"Why, thank you." He scanned the dirt road around them, and found the only other sign of life to come from overhead birds. The silence of the distant city was deafening.
"Are you a knight?" The child's squeaky voice made Tolys melt.
"Yes!"
"My brother says knights are enemies to the people!"
Tolys opened his mouth, then closed it. He furrowed his brow as he thought of a response.
"You should not be outside on your own," he said sternly. "Where are your parents? I can take you to them-"
"Aurel!" A masculine voice, followed by the crunching of twigs, caught the attention of both visitors. The man who approached them was shorter than the knight, as well as a close replica of the child between them. He yanked the boy from the ground and held him close to his chest as Tolys rose to his feet.
"What did I tell you about leaving the house?" The man scolded into the shaggy head of hair. For a still moment, it felt as if time froze. The city streets were barren, and not even a gust of wind blew through the two men. Tolys found himself releasing the breath he was unknowingly holding, which ceased the earth's chilling pause.
The stranger glared up at him.
"Thank you for finding him," he muttered. He started to turn back, but the knight placed a gentle hand on his shoulder before he could continue. Tolys felt the tension in his muscles.
"Who are you?" he asked curiously. The peasant slowly twisted his head to meet him, fear growing in his widening pupils.
"None of your concern," the man breathed. He yanked himself from the other's hold and ran in the direction he came from. Tolys' palm remained in the air until it naturally drifted back to his side. The sight of the man and child diminished until they turned into a shadow, and then into nothing. He sighed and readied himself to mount his horse, but then he became aware of the flower in his other hand. He looped the stem through itself and attached it to a clump of his hair before jumping onto the animal and continuing his journey.
The priest met him outside. He was fond of horses, and Tolys sometimes wondered if he preferred them over humans. They could only enter the chapel after he blessed the animal, which is something he did upon their departure as well. When the two men moved through the tall doors and into the other's cramped house, Tolys was attacked by the warm scent of basil. He took his usual place at the wooden table in the middle of the room. The priest shuffled through a wicker cabinet before seating himself across from the knight.
"Father Felix."
"My child."
Felix squinted at the man. Then, his eyes popped open.
"Lily of the Valley," he whispered.
"Hmm?" Tolys quirked a brow, and then remembered the flower in his hair. He reached up to grab it, but was interrupted by the priest slapping his hand away. Felix threw himself onto the table and made his way towards the other's head. Tolys felt the patch of hair as it was tugged roughly, and soon after he spotted the stem and petals being thrown behind the holy man.
"What was that for?" the knight asked with frustration as he held his head.
Felix sat back down. "That was Lily of the Valley! Those are very dangerous, Tolys! Where the hell did you find that?"
"It was a present from a child?"
On most days, the blond of Felix's bobbed haircut reminded the knight of a halo. It hung at the sides of his face, and the sun bounced on each light strand to give his cheeks a heavenly glow. This time, however, the stained glass window looking down on the two men painted him a sickly purple and blue.
Felix shook his head and let out a shy laugh. "The heavenly father is watching us, Tolys."
"Please do not scare me like that!" he exclaimed, throwing up his hands in defense. This only made the friar's laugh more prominent. As he cackled, Felix retrieved an item from a pocket of his robe and placed its contents in the middle of the table. His bony fingers unraveled one by one to reveal a glass vial. A cork lid covered its contents at the mouth.
Tolys grabbed the bottle and quickly pulled it towards himself. He moved to shove it in his purse, but stopped when he remembered his new intentions.
"I need more."
"Hmm?"
"I need more," he repeated, his voice cracking. "Please."
Feliks smirked as he leaned forward. He rested his chin in his hands. "Oh? You never stock up. Are you being sent off?"
"No, it is for something else."
"It is not safe to keep poison around a castle-"
"It is not for me, Father." Tolys sighed and placed the delicate vial on the table. He held his head in his hands for a moment, then regained his posture.
"Natalya wants me to kill her and her sister's new husbands," he hissed. The holy relics littering the room seemed to be glowing with anticipation. His heart pounded in his ears. "She said she would marry me if I helped her."
Felix crossed his arms and sank into his chair. "And you believe her?"
Tolys' mouth refused to open.
"Who are you when stripped of your armor, Tolys? You need to guard your heart. It beats you the same way those royals do."
"Wise words, coming from God's honored speaker-"
"I'm not telling you this as a priest. I am your friend, as well as a citizen of this kingdom, and I would like justice."
Felix rose from his chair and glided towards the colored window. His face was now a sickly, emerald green. "A woman came to me last night. Her daughter had just passed from hunger pains. Hunger , Tolys. Why is Ivan not feeding his people?"
"Perhaps it is God's will-"
"This is not God's will."
Toly's brows lifted from his friend's sudden boldness."I...do not question his mind. His thoughts are all his own."
"It is a wonder we have allies, Tolys. He throws you into so many senseless battles. I don't know how you're still alive."
The friar glanced over his shoulder. A playful smile lined his pink lips. "I think he wants you dead."
"I vowed to protect the kingdom. That means everyone within our borders." Tolys unclenched his strained jaw. He couldn't recall when his sudden tension began to build.
"He has never fought a day in his life, all because of that damned cough of his. Think about it; if you had a doll, and you slammed it against other dolls and tore it's limbs off, would you feel it? Though, I guess it is only natural for a sick man to crave blood..."
Tolys breathed out of his nose. His friendship with the priest was complicated. Feliks grew out of his persistent shyness the more time they spent together, though Tolys couldn't help but wonder if it was truly a good thing. Once reserved and passive, the holy man now freely told the knight anything that was on his mind.
When the silence began to ring, Feliks spoke again.
"How are you going to do this?"
Somehow, Tolys got himself tangled in the holy man's strings.
"I may have to kill Ivan faster than I initially anticipated. He refuses to be looked after by a doctor-especially you! He does not trust you, unfortunately, and he has accepted his fate at this point. No one will suspect it. Oh gosh, am I babbling?!"
"He has to know he is being poisoned," Feliks admitted. "Tell me, what are his symptoms?"
"Coughing is...a big one. There's usually blood in his handkerchief. He sometimes vomits after eating, that is if his appetite is present. He tires easily, and he has lost weight. I think he has delusions, too."
"Oh Tolys, his delusions are nothing new."
Tolys snorted.
"Yours aren't new, either. Natalya, marrying you ?"
"What's wrong with me ?"
The priest looked him up and down. His long, slender fingers gracefully covered his mouth to hide his growing smile.
"You were raised alongside her. She probably sees you as an ugly brother from her father's mistress. Didn't you tell me that she broke your fingers when you were children?"
"She's changed! Sure her tongue is sharp, and her temperament is very hot, but she can be a pleasant lady."
Feliks walked back to his cabinet. He began to hum a tune as he shuffled through various sizes of jars. They clinked together, making Tolys jump.
"What is it you really want?" he asked, still skimming through his collection of pharmaceuticals.
"Isn't it obvious?" the knight whispered loud enough for the other to hear. He feared that, if he were any louder, the whole room would turn its attention to him.
"I want this constant fighting to end. Our soldiers should be allowed to relax without worrying when Ivan is going to become bored and send us out to our deaths!"
"Mmm? What else?"
"What else?" the knight repeated to himself. He blinked from his own genuine confusion. "Is there anything else to say?"
The friar turned dramatically to face Tolys, a smirk growing on his features. Between his fingers were two, thumb-sized vials of a dark liquid. He held them up next to his shiny head.
"There has to be a reason why I give these to you. Why do the southerner and the Pagan warlord have to die with Ivan?"
"Because...because…" Tolys sighed as he weighed his words carefully. The way he said it wouldn't matter, he knew that, but he was wary of his sense of shame growing if he spoke the wrong words. If he was being honest with himself, he would have to admit that he didn't think farther than marrying Natalya. Now that Feliks mentioned it, the opportunities for a new direction passed through his mind.
"With Ivan, Magnus, and Sadiq gone, I can marry Natalya and rule the kingdom in a way that isn't so harsh."
"There you go!" The friar slid the two bottles across the table. They lightly bounced against Tolys' chest. The declaration came out naturally for the knight, though even he caught on to how smooth it was to say. It was as if a spirit had possessed his form and pried his jaw open to speak; it terrified him.
He knew there was no use in dwelling on his words; his full, honest truth was uttered in front of God, His relics, and Satan, and all he could do now was pray.
The sun fell from the sky as the knight was returning to the castle grounds. Tolys' nervous stomach fought itself as he climbed the castle stairs to his bedroom. Once his fumbling fingers locked the door, he collapsed onto the cool stone at his feet. The knight, succumbing to his anxiety, forced himself to crawl on his hands and knees to the gap between the ground and his bed. He used what remained of his health to drag a bronze box into view.
Once his shaking hands could flip the center padlock open, Tolys pulled the three vials of poison from his purse and laid them on either side of a drained bottle. He lifted the preexisting glass and held it in front of his vision.
'Oh Feliks,' Tolys thought to himself as he stirred the remaining liquid. 'You are a man of many roles.'
Carefully, he closed the box and slid it back under the bed, and out of his sight. With the bottle in his hand, he found his way to his feet to give Ivan his evening wine.