The 28th of February in the 15th year of the New Order under our Lord and King
I've been sitting by the King's side for some time now as He hears petitioners. I can see no method or pattern to how He decides who benefits from His generosity and who is denied. It would seem that despite His insistence that He is doing only good, His magnanimity is limited to whims and the weather. It's merely a game to Him and I can hardly bear to witness it. Those are real people down there, with real lives and He toys with their futures! It's disgusting!
The 18th of March in the 15th year of the New Order under our Lord and King
I watched an old man from my village climb the stairs to the dais today. He had aged significantly since I'd last seen him. A crotchety old loner, he had never been very friendly to me and I didn't know his name other than calling him Old Smokey. Everyone called him that because he always smelled of the hickory smoke from the meager cuts of smoked meat he would sell at the market. For him, it seemed that the King would be unyielding in His denial of aid, no matter his plight. I reached up to His arm and touched it. I'd never done such a thing during Petitions, for I feared retribution from the King. He turned to look at me and I forced myself to look deeply into His cold, uncaring eyes. They seemed to flare brighter for a moment and I merely whispered my request.
"My Lord, please help him." To my surprise, He did indeed change His mind. The old man fell at the King's feet and thanked Him profusely. When he then crawled over to me, dragging his walking cane alongside to thank me as well I couldn't bear his miserable gratitude. Under the very real threat of rousing the King's anger, I leaned forward, took the old man's dirty hands in mine and held them.
"My Queen…" he croaked out as he dropped his wizened old head down further towards the floor. Had I become so unrecognizable in the mere three months I had been here? His hair was stringy and thinning and his clothes hung from him, ragged, torn and reeking of smoke. He kissed my fingers repeatedly and I could do nothing other than let it happen, for I feared if I acknowledged his appreciation further, I would draw the King's wrath down upon me and possibly risk a second reversal of His decision.
At last Old Smokey backed away and shambled down the stairs where he was met with an escort carrying a large bag of supplies, similarly as I had been on my fateful meeting with the King. The guard was kindly to him, aiding him in walking towards the door and I watched for as long as I could see them. Other petitioners came and left and I barely acknowledged them, yet still I watched after Old Smokey until he was out of sight. I didn't realize tears were falling from my eyes until the King abruptly stood and ended Petitions early. The rest of the petitioners were quickly ushered outside and I wiped my face. It was too late. The King took me by my upper arm and raised me roughly to my feet.
"Why must you weep after that old man? Was he something to you?" The King's voice was harsh and low. Did He fear my love would be stronger for an old man than for Him? The King continued on when I didn't answer.
"He will likely be dead soon; I do not know why I bent to your will on his behalf." His unkind words shook me free of my inertia.
"He is something to me, yes. He's a little piece of home."
"This is your home, Lily. I am your home. You must forget your past."
"No. You may be my King but this is my prison and you're my executioner!" I broke free and He shouted after me as I pushed the heavy door open and walked away from Him, clutching my skirts so I wouldn't trip over them. My guard was the only one to follow and he walked just behind me as I traversed the long, cold halls of the King's fortress. I stopped at the turn that would lead me to the endless staircase and my rooms. My guard came to a stop beside me and stood watching me silently, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at me.
"I want to leave like everyone else who comes through those doors! I don't care if I starve with them. At least I'd die free." I didn't expect a response from him and I didn't get a spoken one. Instead, he took me by my forearm and led me away from the direction of my rooms. He took me down several hallways and through at least two locked doors, selecting keys from the ring on his hip as we went. At last, at a larger door than others, he looked hard at me and unlocked it. He left the key in the closed door and gestured to it with his hand.
"Open it." I slowly walked to it and pulled upon the handle. The door was exceedingly heavy but I threw my weight backwards and pulled with all my might. A bitingly cold and damp gust of wind blew my hair back when at last the door opened, letting in the sound of pouring rain with it. It couldn't have been later than mid afternoon yet the sky was a heavy slate grey and made the day appear to be almost evening. Rain was falling in sheets from the sky and it dashed upon the stone walkway at my feet. Beyond the wall only a few steps away, the dreary landscape fell away before my view. It was a long drop to the ground below.
I stepped out into the rain and the drops were so cold they caused bone chilling pain everywhere they struck my flesh. I became soaking wet immediately yet I walked to the wall and rested my hands on it. Down below, a line of people straggled through the bleak wetness like bedraggled ants and I knew what I was witnessing: the petitioners who had been dismissed without having had a chance to ask for aid were walking home. The old and the young, mothers with children, sick and starving. I had robbed them of a chance, of hope. The tears I had shed for Old Smokey had turned out to only be tears for myself. I sank slowly to my knees and rested my head against the icy stone wall in front of me. I wept for a different reason this time, for self loathing and hatred for what I had done to the people I thought I had been vying for. The pain of my mistake shook my body and I clutched at the fabric of my ruined gown where it stuck to the skin of my chest as I wept miserably for my foolishness.
My guard's voice came to me, cutting through the cadence of the rainstorm and lifting my forehead from the rough surface of the stone wall.
"Do you see those people? They came all this way and now they must go. Many of them will not make it home." His words cut me like a knife yet he didn't stop.
"You want to help them. I know this. But angering the King will only make it worse for them. Do you see it now?" I nodded my head, unable to speak or stand for the wretched heartache I felt on their behalf.
It seems that if I am to find any reason to live, it must be for them and not for me. I must set aside my interests and seek only to appease the King, even if it saves just a mere handful more than if I do not. My purpose has never been more known to me than it is now. How dare I wish for what I cannot have when there are others out there who only wish for one more day to live! How selfish of me! In my mad rush to hate the King for all that He is and all that He does, I had ignored the modicum of truth when He spoke of my ingratitude. It doesn't make what He does right but neither does it justify all of my self centered ire.
"Come inside, Lily." My guard's tone softened to one of compassion. It held no pity or sternness, which only would have broken me further. He stood just inside the doorway holding the door and shut it behind me after I entered. Despite the warmth and silence inside the thick stone walls, I shivered uncontrollably from being outside dressed as I was. Water pooled at my feet and I gathered up the now nearly transparent fabric that had grown heavy from its soaking and held it against my legs as I numbly followed behind my guard. He escorted me up to my rooms and drew me a bath but I balked at the luxury, attempting to deny myself such things if the people I sought to aid couldn't have them as well.
"You will become ill if you remain like this." My guard argued. I stubbornly refused to heed him and he grew visibly frustrated with me. His thick brows drew together and his dark eyes bored into me. In just a few long strides, he was across the room. He took me around my body, pinning my arms to my sides, and picked me up. I struggled but was no match for his strength as he plunged me into the steaming water. My ankle struck against the side of the basin and I cried out at the pain of it but he held me there as I fought him still. His sleeves were soaked up to his shoulders and the front of his jacket quickly became just as wet as I thrashed in his grip. At last I could resist him no more and I quieted. I did nothing but stare at the sections of his hair that had fallen forward and hung down into the water beside me as he spoke once again.
"Your death would accomplish nothing but send the King into a frenzy of anger. The only way you can make a difference for the good is to be alive… and well. You must do your best to stay that way. If you refuse to cooperate I will be forced to make you do it." As he spoke, he methodically unlaced the ties holding my dress closed and slipped the entire thing off of me. I covered myself with my arms and looked away from him in shame while he stood to wring it out and drop it on the floor in the corner. I thought he would leave me then but he crouched down once again and reached for my face. He turned it until I looked at him and he spoke his final words to me.
"You must go to the King. His heart softens only for you. Go to Him and make amends." With that, he rose and left me.
When I had finished bathing, I grudgingly decided to take the words of my guard to heart. He had never taken such pains to teach or advise me before so I knew he must have felt strongly that what I must do was my only option. His words proved to be true.
I perfumed my skin with scented oils, dressed in one of the finest garments I had been provided and asked my elderly caretaker to braid my hair the way the King likes best. The necklace belonging to His mother went around my throat and I bedecked my two braids with jewels. And so it was that I walked with my guard, upon my own motivation, to the King's chambers. With my own knuckles, I rapped upon His doors and when He called out a word, my guard nodded at me. I felt as if I were opening the heavy doors to my demise as I slowly pulled them wide.
The King was standing in the center of His chamber, as if He had just risen from the large, cushioned chair by the window. He was not wearing His wolf head covering nor his large necklace or armbands and for a brief moment, His expression was one of outright shock at my appearance. I didn't wait to see if it would change; I immediately fell down to my knees and then prostrated myself before Him right in the doorway. In the corners of my vision, I watched the light, airy quality of the creamy silk I wore flutter down around me and settle on the floor. My heart beat rapidly and I heard the blood in my body rushing into my head in an attempt to drop me unconscious. The voice of the King stopped all time like the crack of a whip.
"What brings you to me?" His voice seemed to echo in the vast room and I spoke into the floor beneath my face.
"I wish to apologize, my Lord Husband. It was wrong of me to insult and defy you so. I should have known better than to do such things." Silence, broken only by my rapid breaths, spread on and on between us. I drew my hands from where they were pressed upon the patterned rug before me and closed them into fists to hold against my head. I neither heard nor saw the King approach but all at once His hot hands engulfed my wrists and He helped me gently to my feet. Only the quiet click of the doors shutting behind me indicated that we were alone. The King drew me toward Him and held me against His chest. I forced myself to breathe the acrid, singed scent of Him into my lungs and fought against the reflex to gag as I slid my hands over His burning skin and held tightly to His shoulders.
"What made you do this? Apology and affection are not your way." The King is no fool. Perhaps He felt my actions were merely a charade. For once, I actually did carry remorse for my actions and I lowered my face in true disgrace.
"My guardsman showed me the result of my actions. He made me look upon the people who had been turned away from your throne room… because of my undermining you. When he returned me to my rooms, he said I must undo my wrongs." The King made a considering noise in His chest that was vaguely threatening. Perhaps I had mis-spoke and instead roused the King's ire against His own man. A sickening jolt of fear tore into my chest as I imagined the King's retribution being taken out on my stern yet kindly guardsman. I looked up at the King with trepidation and spoke quickly in his defense.
"My Lord… he was right to do so… If I may be so bold as to judge his actions in your presence. He's loyal to you and he reveres you as his King and Lord. He has shown me the error of my ways!" The King snorted with some derision yet it carried an amused sound as well.
"I know the quality of his loyalty. That is why I have him stationed by your side." The King narrowed His blazing eyes at me and studied my upturned face.
"I can see the distress you carry and I know of your love for the people of this place. They look upon me with fear but they look upon you and see compassion." The King's voice dropped to a lower tone and He tightened His hands on my arms.
"But it is not for you to decide the fate of those who come here looking for aid. Bear that well in mind, Lily." His threat was clear and I knew I had to strive for His complete forgiveness. I stepped back from Him and led Him deeper into His chambers to His bed.
"Lie down, Husband." I whispered to Him. He did as I asked, watching me carefully as I reached for His sash and loosened it until I could unclothe Him. Without undressing myself, I climbed upon Him, gathered my silken skirts up and gave myself to Him. He let me do so, only occasionally putting His hands upon me to touch my legs or open my corset to expose my breasts to His sight. Only when He neared His climax did He take hold of me and control my movements. When it was over He pulled me down to lie upon His chest. For a short while He dozed and I longed to return to my rooms to be alone but if I did so, I would surely undo the forgiveness I had won. When He woke He was pleased to find me still lying upon Him. So pleased, in truth, that He took me once again before allowing me to make myself presentable enough to join Him for dinner.
The 9th of April in the 15th year of the New Order under our Lord and King
The days have grown warmer and the sun shines for greater lengths. Spring is at last upon us and I have found some measure of beauty in this prison I am bound to live out my days in. Through my narrow windows I can see the softest blush of new red tips on the tree branches and even a haze of green and yellow as the leaves begin to reveal themselves. Since I last wrote, I have begun to spend more time with the King, attempting to understand Him and how to best please Him. His expansive rooms have a vast, private balcony with gardens grown within containers. He lets me roam among them and sit in the sunny sections to read the many books in His collection or watch the people come and go in the distance.
The people have now taken to asking for seeds along with food and I have taken to making physical contact with the petitioners as often as possible. To avoid the jealousy of the King, I prefer to restrict such contact to holding babies, kissing small children and hugging or holding the hands of other women but on occasion I will allow an older man to kiss my hand. In some ways I have grown more accustomed to the fickle nature of the King's kindness. Dare I use the word "accustomed"? Is not "hardened" or "apathetic" more appropriate?
The 23rd of April in the 15th year of the New Order under our Lord and King
I'm a murderer. Though I have never wielded a weapon designed for killing in all of my life, the blood of many stains my hands and I will never be free of it! Not now, not ever. Oh, to have the sweetness of death, the freedom of a blade piercing my own heart… if only it were to be for me but no! There is only guilt and fear and sickness to be had in all of this wretched place.
It was a day like any other: the same words spoken, the same requests… only the people are ever different. Sometimes, on rare occasions there is a face I recognize, a voice that smacks of familiarity but for the most part, the people merge together as one hungry, desperate entity in need of aid and mercy. Except that day.
I remember returning an infant, such a precious little thing, to his mother as she prepared to take up the provisions that had been issued to her. A voice came to me, one I hadn't heard in ages… not since I was young. A name came to mind when I heard it: Nicholas. I remembered a boy throwing a ball with Eddie; he had grey eyes and light brown hair and he was always teasing me when I would chase after them as they would run to the river with their fishing nets. The memory made me smile and the mother who took her baby smiled back at me, thinking I was happy for her. I was.
I turned toward the dais again and was struck immobile by the sight before me. A man knelt there yet his face belonged to Nicholas. Not the stout, troublesome boy of fourteen who lived in the next town over, just gaining his low voice of adulthood and looking up to my brother, who was two years his elder. No. A half starved, wiry, hollow cheeked man knelt there yet his nose, mouth and yes, his very eyebrows were the same as I remembered. I gripped the fabric of the pillow I sat upon in my hands and became still beside the throne. Like everyone else, Nicholas' story was one of sadness and loss. Having returned from the Wall, injured and sickly, he had not been able to provide for his aging parents and the winter had been too harsh. They had both passed in a dark morning of early spring and he had barely managed to survive by digging for acorns in the woods, as I had. His story was also vastly different. He was not at the Palace to get for food for himself, but rather for those who were too weak to travel on their own to ask.
As he finished his story, he turned his face toward me slightly and his grey eyes, so much older looking than I had expected, fell upon me without any recognition. They lingered for only a flash before returning to the floor in front of his knees. In that moment, I had seen what working on the Wall had done to him. A scar starting at the edge of his chin ran down the right side of his neck and disappeared under the collar of his ragged shirt. It must have been a grievous injury, for it had healed badly and the skin around it puckered strangely as the muscles in his neck moved beneath it. His bottom lip was pulled slightly downward on the right side, making his mouth somewhat asymmetrical in appearance yet if he were to be of a more healthy build, it would not take away from his appearance as drastically as it does in such a starved state. His collar bone on the right side was also distorted; it must have been shattered at some point.
My heart broke for him and I waited to hear what the King would say. Surely He would be moved by such selfless kindness on Nicholas' part. No. The King denied him anything.
"I am not such a fool as to send enough food to feed a village of people on the questionable word of one man." I should have kept my protest to myself. Many lives could have been saved that day. But no. I grasped the King's arm like a fool and gave voice to my insanity.
"Then take my word, my Lord! I know him. Nicholas was my brother Edward's friend and a good, kind soul! Please, my Lord! Have mercy for those he seeks to aid." Though I kept my attention on the King, I could feel the eyes of Nicholas on me, studying me.
"Lily?" It was the only word of disbelief he could whisper before the King leapt from His throne. He took a handful of my hair near the back of my neck and I grasped at His hands as His hold on me lifted me up onto my knees.
"You dare intercede on behalf of this peasant? And you!" The King flung out His hand toward Nicholas, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
"Cast your eyes away from the Queen!" Nicholas fell to his face instantly.
"Please, my Lord, my husband!" I cried desperately but the King was unmoved by my pleas. Instead, He only grew angrier. Those assembled below had fallen silent in fear and had prostrated themselves already.
"Silence! You seek favor for him when I have decided not to bestow goods upon his doubtful word? You say you trust him when you should be trusting me! Go to him then! Take comfort from a weak vagrant and not your King!" He flung me forward and I fell beside Nicholas on the dais. I lay there panting in fear and watched as the King gestured to His guards with His hand raised upwards and the glowing orb held in it.
"Lock the doors. No one leaves here alive." It took a moment for me to comprehend His vicious condemnation. When I did, I struggled to raise myself upwards from beside Nicholas and I reached my hand toward the King where He loomed over us.
"No, my Lord, spare them!" The King turned His wrathful eyes upon me and they positively blazed.
"I said take comfort from your weak man! You have no need of me!" Turning His frightening eyes to Nicholas, He bellowed at him.
"Offer her your strength, peasant, for she will need all of it!" Nicholas rose to his knees and we stared at each other. Over his shoulder, I watched as the mass of people present began to panic and fight each other to reach the doors. A cacophony of fearful screams and shouts rose as the King's guards swarmed into the room and began to slay every man, woman and child. My own screams joined the terrible din as I witnessed such hideous carnage taking place before my very eyes. Nicholas fell upon me, taking me in his arms and forcibly turning me away from seeing it. I fought him in my terror, screaming and weeping as the sounds around us became a calamitous roar.
After what seemed like an eternity, the screaming dimmed and finally stopped. I had long since ceased struggling in Nicholas' arms and I slumped against him, defeated and feeling an otherworldly separation from reality blessedly cutting me off from my own mind. When one of the guards climbed the steps, leaving a path of bloody footprints behind him, the King let him approach Nicholas. Even wearing black, I could see the blood that spattered his clothing from the slaughter that had taken place. It ran down his sword, dark and sticky, and dripped from its wicked point as the guard lowered it towards the back of Nicholas' neck.
Finding a new strength in my body, fed by a fractured mind, I lurched upward over his shoulder and grasped the bloodied blade in my hands, redirecting it so its point dug into my throat. I felt the bite of its double edges cutting into the palm and fingers of my left hand but it seemed too distant to be real or of any consequence. My own blood ran down my arms and the guard could neither take the sword away nor kill Nicholas without harming me further. He stood, frozen in place as I screamed at him to kill me as well. Until Nicholas began to shout, I couldn't stop my own suicidal tirade.
"Lily! Stop it! Stop!" I clenched my fingers tighter on the blade until another swath of blood ran from me. The guard looked between me and the King with an expression of sheer panic on his face.
"Let go of it, Lily. Let him kill me." Nicholas spoke softly to me. His voice was calm and he held gentle pressure against my sides in a stabilizing fashion and so he could push me away if he felt it necessary. The King interrupted and spoke in a cold, emotionless fashion.
"No. This is her doing… isn't it, Lily?" I closed my eyes and pressed my neck harder against the tip of the sword. A tremble from the guard's nervous grip traveled along the blade to my bleeding and aching hand.
"Yes." My voice was hoarse and broken. The King stepped alongside the guard and the apple flared in His hand. My hands separated from the sword blade against my will and the guard immediately backed away, lowering his weapon to the floor. The King directed His next words at Nicholas.
"You will not die today, peasant." The King turned and pointed out toward the mass of dead people littering the bloodstained throne room.
"Look out there. Look at what disobedience and rebellion bring upon the innocent. Get to your feet!" Nicholas turned his face into my neck as he very slowly moved me away from him and barely whispered into my ear.
"I'll come for you; I'll raise an army!" I just shook my head in despair as he settled me back on my heels and stood. The King growled angrily at him for delaying.
"Your duty as a survivor of this… unfortunate uprising… is to spread the word of what happens when there is treachery within the walls of my court. Go. Have no fear. The Queen will live." Nicholas dared to look at me one last time and his eyes pleaded with me to believe his insane promise. He has no idea of how impossible it would be. He doesn't understand the power the King wields.
After Nicholas had picked his way between the scattered bodies and been allowed to pass unmolested out into the world, the King turned a disgusted eye on me where I knelt with my head bowed and my maimed hand resting in my lap. He left me there, alone in the throne room which had so recently been turned into a killing field. The smell of blood and death was horrendous. I pitched forward and vomited onto the stone floor. At last, when there was nothing left but heartache, I felt the familiar hands of my guard lifting me up. His silence was welcome and I remained so myself as he carried me up to my rooms.
The old woman was there and she tsked at my guard when he became reluctant to put me down. All he had to do was show her my hand and she immediately began animatedly speaking to him in their strange language. She gestured toward the bathing room so he carried me in there and set me down in the basin. He then climbed in as well and knelt behind me. I no longer cared about anything it seemed, until he took my left forearm in his hand and brought his right arm around me to extend the fingers of my injured hand outward. The old woman leaned over and took a long look at it before moving to the hand pump. My guard pushed me farther forward, extending my upturned palm beneath the end of it and the woman began to pump water.
I had never felt such pain in my life. My guard had been anticipating my reaction, for he tightened his grip on me and held me fast as I screamed and tried to pull my arm out from under the flow of water that ran red down the unplugged hole in the basin. Once the blood had been washed from me, the woman examined my hand again, holding the lantern close and prodding at the wound with her finger as I shook and attempted to quell my tears. She spoke a few more words to my guard and then left the room.
"Your wound is not as deep as it appeared, though it is still bad. Grandmother thinks you will not lose the use of your hand. She will treat it." We sat together in the basin and I alternately wept and fell into silence. When the old woman returned, she sewed the edges of my cut closed. I gritted my teeth and did my best to cooperate but it was good that my guard never released me, for by the end of it I was screaming again. A paste of plant matter and other things went onto my hand next and then it was bound tightly in cloth. Afterwards, my guard left us and the old woman stripped me down and bathed me. She left me as well once I had crawled into bed.
I don't think I slept much that night. I find it difficult to sleep at all but I don't even leave my bed some days. I haven't seen the King since that awful afternoon nearly ten days ago. Instead, I keep to my rooms and watch the birds of spring returning to the land to sing their songs of sorrow. Why do they come here? Why would anything come here?