Seven for a Secret

A series of quick knocks on his chamber door roused in the former King from his sleep. Each knock brought him further and further from a vivid dream; one joyful in context but with a strange underlying tone of guilt. In it, Stefan playfully chased a mysterious woman, one he had never met but somehow still knew, through lush green fields. The ripple of the grasses in the cool breeze constantly hid her from vie, only to have her sneak back in as the stalks shifted back, ebbing and flowing like the ocean waves. She wore a brown frock with a large tear in the fabric right above her breast; however, despite her plain dress she embodied a natural beauty. Her deep chestnut hair swayed gently as she bounded through green barley, and her creamy white cheeks flushed pink in her laughter. As they frolicked she always remained two steps ahead of him, just out of Stefan's grasp. A name, he recalled a name swimming through his head all night, but it too remained just out of reach.

Sa… s… two blinks of an eye later he lost it, along with her picture.

"Sir?" asked a voice on the other side of the door. Stefan's head cleared. "Sir?"

"Yes?" he asked, rubbing his eyes before throwing off the sheets. He plucked his robe from the end his bed, and opened the door just as he slipped his arms into its plush sleeves.

"The Queen has requested you join her on a morning walk," informed the servant, considerably shorter than the King in his new body. Stefan turned around to see the skyline just turning pink in the windows behind him. "She wanted to see the sun rise," the servant explained.

"As the Queen wishes."

He splashed some cool water on his face and dressed in the clothes he wore yesterday. His frame would burst the seams of the Queen's brother's clothes, and the servant's thin tunics were no better. Slipping on his leather jacket, he stepped outside his room into the silent hallway. He couldn't help but notice all the differences between this castle and his own. The stones in the floor seemed duller and farther apart than the ones that lined his floors. Perhaps it was just his longer legs, but he noticed less distance between steps on the stairs as well. He couldn't decide if he was still adjusting to his new body, or if something was just off about the castle.

Stefan didn't know exactly where to meet the Queen, so he wandered a bit. A servant would find him eventually, he reasoned. However, he soon found himself wandering into unknown territory. This part of the castle seemed lit by golden candlelight rather than the usual hoary haze that filtered through the ever-present clouds. Stefan turned down a long hallway and found two great oak doors twice his height blocking his way. He imagined they opened into a great dining hall, and he was very hungry, so using his newly acquired strength, he grunted and pushed them open, the heavy wood grunting back.

The doors revealed a great space that surprisingly sat rather empty. Warm light flooded the walls and everything in between them, and the glow seemed to emanate solely from a giant bronze dish standing on the right. It had an incredibly reflective surface, more than moorland water on a sunny day, or a window at midnight. He could sense a dark power rolling off it in heavy waves, and for that Stefan feared it.

On the far side of the room lay a small empty pool, really an oversized bathtub built into the floor. He'd read about the Romans' bathhouses and wondered if Ravenna was attempting to bring that sort of classic culture into her kingdom.

However, all of this was merely an afterthought, as the bulk of his attentions focused on the gray-haired woman strewn across the floor. Her bony, wrinkled hand curled upwards, liver spots dotting the translucent flesh. A mess of silver hair concealed the details of her face, but Stefan could still see her wide, screaming mouth through the curtain. Though no blood littered the ground, the woman was clearly dead.

Get out! The voice in his head yelled at him, but he didn't need the advice.

He took one shaking step backwards before turning and running out the vast oak doors. Dark magic and dead women were not in his morning itinerary. Not today. Not yet.

Stefan had the entire long (brisk) walk back through the castle to reason with himself. The dish couldn't have been magical, what good would a massive enchanted dish be? Certainly no good for serving, that's for sure, so it must be for decoration only. Perhaps it went with the Romanesque bath, yes certainly, all bathrooms in Rome had mirrors, didn't they?

And the woman? He could not dismiss what he'd seen. No, far too real, the image of her was permanently burned into his mind. She clearly didn't die of natural causes, but who could have done this to her? He couldn't imagine Ravenna doing something so… devious. Messy. Perhaps her brother then, the ominous Finn? Still, he could only imagine what Ravenna went through to bring him back from the other side; there must be some dirt on her hands, some red in her moral ledger. It couldn't be too hard an idea to believe Ravenna might be behind the woman's murder.

Ravenna knows what she's doing, it's all part of the plan. With any war, there will be casualties, he reasoned as he quickly left the room in his dust.

After Stefan's scattered, fear-inducted rationalization concluded, he worked on shoving the incident into the back of his mind. He had just about succeeded in doing so when Ravenna herself, looking more lovely than usual, called him.

"Stefan! There you are," she walked over to him from the staircase she just appeared from. "We've been looking all over for you! Thought you'd gone back to sleep. Anyway, we must leave at once or we'll miss the sunrise!"

Diaval followed the horrid alcohol scent into the forest that stood on the opposite side of the kingdom as the Moors. He had never traveled here by land before, only ever by air as he flew over it once or twice on errands for his mistress. Now that he travelled through it, he half expected it to contain the same mystical qualities as his homeland. He discovered that, while full of magic, it was not the good kind. He felt it in his bones as his large paws padded over coarse soil; the evil seemed to rise from the ground like noxious fumes come to poison him. The spots on the mushrooms formed wicked faces in the moonlight, and even the gnarly roots and fallen branches seemed to reach out for him. He could tell it was all an illusion, but the knowledge made it no less frightening. He kept his nose to the ground and tried to stay focused on his course.

By morning light, he reached the edge of the forest. Looking out to the open land, he saw a great castle perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. He had come very far indeed, several miles it seemed, as he had never seen the sea on his previous trips overhead. High white walls surrounded the castle with the only visible ground entrance a great portcullis with two guards in the adjacent towers. As Diaval took in his surroundings and tried to devise a plan on how to follow his trail, he noticed a tall, blonde-haired man and an extremely beautiful woman strolling a few meters from the forest's edge. The man held his right elbow out, and the woman clasped it lightly with her pale, delicate hand. Her blue eyes shone like the waters of the Moor, only clearer, and her lips moved softly and delicately, like a pink worm wriggling just below her nose, two high complements from a Moorland crow.

"Just a few miles beyond this forest, your kingdom awaits you," She told the man as he gazed out among the emerald trees and bramble bushes. Diaval's limp ears shot up.

The man said nothing, so the woman spoke up again.

"I am sure you miss it. Fear not; soon I will devised a plan so clever, it will guarantee you your kingdom back," she continued, flashing him a smile so lovely it rivaled a flower in its radiance.

Back? Thought Diaval, listening even more intently while simultaneously dropping himself further to the ground to better hide. He considered changing into a mouse or a fly, but he feared missing a piece of their conversation during the transformation.

"I hate this waiting," the man conceded, helping his lady over a muddy patch, "I wish I could do something now, something to help."

"All I need you to do now is regain your strength, relearn the world after your sleep." She rounded him, stepping in his path to prevent him from moving any farther. They stood right in front of Diaval now, hidden as he was behind a thick bramble bush speckled with black berries.

"Do not worry about me, or the plan. For now, I have it covered.", she said softly, causing him to unconsciously lean in to hear her. She moved her hands to his thick biceps, gripping them lightly to prove her point. She rested there a moment, letting him drink in her youthful, golden glow. She had drained a maiden of her juvenescence late last night, so she knew she looked her absolute best.

He swallowed thickly. He couldn't tell if she was waiting for an answer or just pausing for emphasis. Everything was going a bit foggy to be honest.

Her eyes, don't look into her eyes, whispered the voice.

Of course, once he heard that he immediately looked into her eyes, noticing their soft, hypnotic gaze. He blinked once and looked away.

"Of course, my Queen," he answered, the fog slowly dissipating. She clucked her tongue gently, moving her hands from his arms.

"Oh Stefan, I've told you, call me Ravenna. You are still a King, even if your throne is under the care of another. We'll get it back from your daughter soon enough.

The woman went back to his side, took his arm again, and continued their early morning walk.

Back behind his bush, Diaval's ears were ringing.

Stefan. She called him Stefan, and told him he'd get his kingdom back. From his daughter. The clues were all too obvious. This man didn't look like the dead King, but Diaval knew appearances could be deceiving. He himself was evidence of that. He didn't know how it happened; Stefan was clearly dead when they scraped his body from the stones of the castle, but that woman, that Queen, just spoke to him, to Stefan. He couldn't wrap his head around the how of the situation, but he sure as Hell knew the what; King Stefan had returned, and is ready to regain his throne.

Realizing the urgency of the situation, Diaval quickly regrew his customary black feathers and took off into the sky, breaking through the canopy of trees like a bat out of hell.

A few meters off, the startled coupled turned around to see a flutter of green leaves as a raven burst from the treetops, scared by something below. The Queen scrunched her perfect brows.

"Odd, " she remarked. Her companion grunted in response. "Oh! I've just remembered. The tailor is coming in today to fit you for some new clothes. I can't have you wearing the huntsman's clothing forever; it is simply not fit for a King!"

Ravenna glanced back at the portcullis where her brother, Finn, just arrived. He looked disgruntled; behind him only a few men remained from a large search party the night before. She frowned.

"Why don't you head back now to meet him," she suggested.

"I couldn't leave you all alone,"

"My brother Finn just returned from an, ah… errand. When you pass him, tell him to join me."

Stefan nodded and walked away from her. She turned round and headed back to the berry bush she'd seen earlier. If she was correct, the round, black berries were a crop of Bella Donna, the elusive Deadly Nightshade she'd been running low on. She reached the bush and plucked one plump fruit from the vine, examining it's unblemished exterior. It was then in her concentration that she felt it.

A certain electricity crackled within the air, a sensation unfelt a moment ago. She looked up, past the bush, and noticed a slight waver in the air, like the one above a fire or when looking through water. She narrowed her eyes.

"Sister?"

She thrust a hand out, silencing her brother. "Do you see that?"

"See—?"

"Do you feel that? The slight chill of lingering power?" She stepped around the bush, hoisting her skirts to get through the tall grasses. Stepping into the small clearing behind the bush, she saw obvious paw prints in the soft ground, and scattered among them she noticed several black feathers.

Stepping into the invisible, magical cloud, she felt it even more strongly.

"Shape shifter," she whispered. She reached down and picked up a feather, twirling it in her fingers. She looked up, remembering the crow that burst through here earlier.

"Finn," she called, gazing at the feather, "I think I have a plan for our dear King Stefan."