Queen Joy
The castle was large and beautiful. It suited the Queen easily and the courtiers that came with it were even nicer. She'd only been there eleven years when her old friend, Sir Knight, arrived back from wherever was keeping him. Sir Knight had been the one to drive away the stupid King, and they'd put together a deal, a contract, so to speak, which was magical and unbreakable. Although the Queen didn't know that. She leant on the Balcony wall and gazed at her Kingdom. The one she and Sir Knight ruled. And her true love.
To Queen Joy, Sir Knight was a trickster, not a do-gooder. He spoke flippantly and mostly disobeyed her and had for the last eleven years they'd been bound by the contract. He could spin lies like gold and seemed to harbour a great passion for taking away the first born of his contract men or women. With them, he simply gave the child to another and made sure they lived hard and upsetting lives.
The Queen had struck four bargains with him.
One: the Castle. Two: the Status of Queen. Three: her true love. Four: his heart.
He'd granted each and every one of them, though in return she had given nothing. That's why she thought about him now. She hadn't seen him in a long time and expected his demands soon enough. She'd made a fortune of gold-taken from her husband's stock.
She had magical gifts, such as the Cloak of Invisibility, the Boots that walked you anywhere and a special sword that would swipe off your enemies' heads but never yours. She loved them-her self proclaimed gifts from her true love-and hardly took them off. That was why the fierce winds seemed to pass by her: the moon forgot to shine on her; hills seemed to disappear.
As she turned to look inside, to her true love, she missed the two shining lights that settled behind a house-having flitted from her forests-and go inside.
Her true love was sitting silently, miserably, on the throne she had constructed for him. Anger briefly moved in her heart-why did he not appreciate the wondrous beauty around him?-and she remembered.
He didn't have his heart anymore. It was gone, safely tucked into a chest of pure bronze, his greatest enemy, in the Queen's chambers. As he turned to look at her, his face still and emotionless, his hand traced desperately under his sash, where she knew the great, gaping hole lay.
'Love conquers all' had not conquered a man without emotion. She loved a heartless man, yet he was not cruel, not unkind. He did not hate her. That was the fourth wish: his heart. Sir Knight had cut it out and placed it in that box, misreading the Queen's intentions. And now she had to live with him, because Sir Knight had long since disappeared.
'Waiting for me?' Croaked a voice. She turned back to the balcony, where perched a raven. One of Sir Knight's many forms, she mused. 'I think it is time. Let us talk.'