I couldn't resist not writing for a few days... Many thanks to all my reviewers! :offers a shoulder to sob on:
Now. This is the part where they burn his handsome corpse into ashes...
Chapter 10 – "Live For Me"
Prince Alaric laid still upon the pyre, his pale eyelids closed, hiding empty, faded blue eyes underneath. He had a thin red scar upon one side of his neck, and a small gash on his left cheek. His armor was removed, set beside him, and he lay in clean blue robes. It was doubtless – the prince was dead.
The sky was painted a cold steel gray, and the chilly wind was howling mournfully, bringing small flakes of snow with it. The entire kingdom was in silence, the commoners carrying candles and wearing a thin black cloak over their heads as they formed a loose ring around the altar, many yards away from the dead prince. Nobles formed the next ring, and the royal family stood nearest to the center, on the raised altar where the pyre was.
Queen Napea stared with a pale expression at her youngest son, who about to be cremated and his soul freed into the sky. Ethel stood beside her, his face stony and dark circles under his eyes. They were all waiting for the princess. Ethel's gaze trailed down to his brother's left hand, which was clenched tightly. He eyed it carefully, realizing that Alaric had a piece of paper clasped in his hand.
Turning towards the religious man and then to his mother, he said quietly, "I would like to touch my brother one last time." They looked at him, and nodded.
She loved him like a true brother, as if they were really bond by blood...
Her brother was dead.
Dead.
The fountain waters ran cold and quick through her fingers. Solita's red-streaked eyes settled upon the closed buds of the snow blossoms. It was winter, but the flowers were refusing to bloom for Alaric.
She bit her lip to keep her sobs from erupting, and recoiled her fingers from the icy waters. Clutching the ash grey cloak closer, she walked wearily out of the West Gardens.
She slid her way into the crowd beside Ethel, the entire kingdom watching her steadily. Lowering her eyes, she did not look up while the religious man performed the rituals. She did not look up at Alaric's body as it lay on the pyre. She did not look up as they handed the torch to Queen Napea, who, for the benefit of the watchers, it seemed, turned away to sob quietly into a black cloth. Ethel did not comfort her, as perhaps the queen had expected him to. When the religious man brought forth the torch to him, he shook his head slightly, gazing with a glassy stare into the distance. Solita did not look up to take note of any of this.
Only when the fire glowed in front of her did she raise her head slowly and stare hypnotically into the flames. Her glazed smoky eyes suddenly erupted in flames. She took the torch, and slowly walked up to her brother's body. Hundreds of people watched as the princess held the torch in shaking hands. The snow fell lightly down onto the tops of their cloaked heads.
Solita lowered the torch, unable to move. She was still a few steps away when the fire vanished and somehow transferred to the pyre, and it began to blaze with flames. Solita cast a look at her brother's face one last time, once lively and kind. Smoke drifted into the grey clouds, blending in with the shrouded landscape.
Solita's eyes filled with tears once again, and she tore them away from her brother to stare into the distant mountains. Her breathing grew husky, and she trembled, growing cold despite the hungry fire.
A gust of wind came, blowing her cloak off her head and scattering her black hair. Solita glanced at her stepmother. Her sobs are not natural, she realized. Is she really sad that her son died?
From the corner of her gaze Solita saw her stepmother transfigure before her eyes, her skin wrinkling until it became leathery, her eyes lightening to a piercing white, and her hair growing wild, streaking with grey. Her stepmother looked at Solita with a wild, hungry stare, and in her hand she clutched a glittering knife…
Solita squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. The image dissolved. Her stepmother was staring at Alaric's burning body, like everyone else was. She was only clutching a black cloth to wipe her eyes.
She suddenly turned to see all of the nobles gathered around her, their eyes flickering and paling into an empty white. Knives appeared in each of their hands, all pointed towards her. They walked towards in a trance-like fashion. Solita opened her mouth to scream.
Ethel clamped his hand over her mouth. The nobles and Queen Napea seem to have not noticed. Solita blinked to see no white irises or knives in their hands. Ethel whispered something to his mother and led Solita out of the cremation site.
"I do not think it would be appropriate for you to scream at a cremation," he said quietly, with no trace of a mocking tone that Solita had expected.
She did not reply. Ethel turned to look her in the eyes. He had many scars and cuts on his face, and it was gaunt and pale.
"What did you see?"
Solita stared back at him, still not saying a word. He sighed shakily, and before turning away, he slid a piece of paper into her hand.
Solita walked wearily down the trail as snow came down and scattered through the landscape. It was the same trail that winded through the woods, the same one that she and Alaric had always use to come to. She continued to walk, not looking back at the rising smoke of the cremation, or the fading palace walls. Shadowy, towering trees engulfed her, beckoning for her to come closer.
She clasped the note tightly in her hand. Solita was well educated to read and write on scrolls and scriptures, as were her stepbrothers, but her grief and madness had overcome her curiosity, and it was abandoned as she fled.
Her head felt light and airy, but she continued to stagger through the trail. Other than the rushing of a distant river, the woods were silent, no murmurs of the animals or whispers of the trees. Solita didn't know how long she had walked, but after taking a random turn, she came to a part of the woods that she was completely unfamiliar with. She squinted her eyes, and saw something in the distance. She approached it, slowly and carefully.
It was a cottage. No smoke was arising from the chimney, but it hardly seemed to be abandoned. The misty glass windows were clean, and there were plants and flowers growing under the windows. Solita was suddenly overcome with tiredness. She backed up against a tree, and sank down, leaning on it. Her eyes were still gazing at the cottage curiously. Who would live so deep in the woods, isolated so far from the kingdom?
The snow seeped through her cloak, and she shivered. She decided it was about time to return to the palace, but she was… lost in the woods. Turning to look in the direction of the mountains, Solita realized that the woods must stretch across the hills, its fingertips reaching through the valley and to the bottom of the mountain. The cottage was at the edge of the valley. She couldn't believe that she was this far from the palace.
Solita rose from the snow, casting the cottage a last glance and walking back the other direction. The snow began to fall hard upon the surface, blanketing the trail entirely. She ambled on and on, following her instincts and taking no note of the chilly wind or the snow. But it is beautiful, she thought. The shimmering whiteness of the snow was so pure, so clean and refreshing. In her mind, an image formed of many winters back...
A thin girl of twelve stood like a statue by the urns of her parents. The snow came down, blanketing her shoulders and her ivory black hair. Her gaze was not sad, but hypnotic and empty. In the distance a voice called her name.
"Solita! Where are you?"
She ignored it, and continued to stare at the urns. King Jethro the III, and Queen Odessa. Her dear, sweet mother. Her mother which she had never met ..
"You must go back into the palace, Solita! You will catch a cold!" The voice came closer.
Solita did not move. Suddenly warm hands were upon her shoulders. She turned to come face to face with –
No…no.. Solita shook herself, telling herself not to think of him again. She walked wearily through the woods for many more minutes, until she came to the river.
Its waters were icy and fresh, and it tempted Solita's dry lips. She stepped closer and cupped her palms, when noticing the note that she did not read. She hastily stuffed it into her cloak, and cupped her palms again to take a sip of the water. She realized that she could have easily slipped into the river and be carried away by it. She would be plunged into its depths, and relieved of all her troubles and worries. Ending her life in the river would mean she did not have to forever avoid the knives of the queen's assassins. She would be at peace, for once in her life. She would see her mother and father again... and Alaric... a smile came to her lips.
The thought deeply tempted Solita. A gust of wind blew by and her cloak opened, the note falling out. It floated on the surface of the shallow waters that rushed slowly. Solita waded waist-deep into the river, and fished out the note. Inscribed in clear, elegant handwriting was her name… To Solita. Her heart stopped as she realized whose handwriting it was.
She folded open the note with shaky hands. The smooth, black ink had not been faded away by the water like she had expected. She bit her lip to keep her eyes from watering as she read the three words written on the note. Solita then stuffed it carefully into her cloak, her breathing fast and husky.
She started trudging back to land, when suddenly her foot was caught in something. She jerked it, and only lost her balance and fell deeper into the river. She rose from the icy waters, her entire body shivering and soaked. Then she realized that she was moving. The river was carrying her away. Solita panicked, and tried to swim her way back to land. She only plunged under the surface again, drinking in freezing, but sweet water. Her whole body was numb. Despite all that she had thought a few minutes ago, deep in her mind she had a voice urging for survival. His voice.
But the river continued to carry her away, and she fought to keep from losing consciousness. She almost gave up when suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her away from the current. Alaric, she thought blissfully, before sinking into blackness.
The brief images she sees are a pychotic thing - something like.. pyschoses, I think. Now.. here's to my wonderful reviewers..
PaperbagPrincezz: Well I had her think that he was her "brother".. that should be enough, I hope... Yay! I'd love you to beta-read this story.. How does it work, exactly?
mistyqueen: yes, indeed I did. It was wicked of me, no?
dreamingdaemon: "You added to the domino stack that was my love for Alaric and then you prodded the beautiful arrangement once and laughed as it all collapsed around my ears."... Wow, what can I say... Such a vivid description - right on!
fireworksinmypocket: Yep, she does try to save him with the flowers, but as you see.. they didn't bloom for him. (It's like they have a mind of their own when to bloom, but only in wintertime!) ... :nervous laugh: Hahah.. Robbers and thieves and bandits...
warrior-wolf: Alas.. things always happen for a reason...
EvenSong: There will be a happy ending in the end, so not to worry! Well, semi-happy... Hmm, yes, Ethel has indeed changed... :hinthint:
CareBearErin: :Sighs: .. Yes, he was a perfect prince charming, wasn't he? Was.