Important Disclaimer: This story is the fourth in a series and as such, if you have not read 'Living Dangerously', 'Living In Secret' and 'The Greatest Nobody in Nowhere' then this may prove difficult to follow.
And now, presenting for the final time…
The Ice Queen Lives
I
The King is Dead
In the night sky, the bleeding stars faded darker and darker, yet never had the courage to let go entirely. This was because they knew that endings were easy. But surviving against the odds was harder and with it came no reward or consolation. Yet they still continued, willingly participants in the circle of dying forever. Why did they persist? Did they know something about existences that the rest of us didn't? Was there some great reward waiting at the end and if they just held on long enough, it'd all be worth it in the end? What result could possibly justify the millenia spent hanging alone in space. Above everything with no way down. What could make that freezing cold worth it? If there was nothing, why did they persist?
They just did. There was no meaning behind it, no poetic justice or reason for their existence. They just simply were. And trying to read anything different or deeper into it would yield a rational explanation of their reasons. They didn't have reasons. They were simply stars. And she was simply her.
Through all of it, the only constant in her life was her. The rest had been watered down and stripped away. There were no goals anymore. Her heart did not want for anything. She'd outgrown having a reason to live - she just simply took the days as they met her and survived. Like the stars, she just simply was.
The severity of today felt like everything had been building towards it, yet even as it arrived on her calendar that morning, it still didn't feel any closer. Then again, there wasn't much that felt real anymore. Events unfolded before her and she interacted with the world, but at no point did she feel like she was the driving force behind it. She was simply allowing existence to happen around her. Trying to control it had never worked out, so what damage could be done by giving up? Truly, what did she have left to lose?
Maybe after all of the build up, once today was over with, she would start to feel real again?
She hoped not.
Despite the rain, the air in the cemetery was thick. Droplets of water battered the dry soil and transformed it into sloppy mush and the stench of wet earth filled her nostrils. A mist rose from the ground and disguised the church as a distant ghostly silhouette, though it was only several metres away.
She took shelter from the weather beneath a hillside tree overlooking the ancient burial ground. She did not enjoy cemeteries and hardly imagined her opinion was in the minority on that one. But her reasoning was that if she was destined to one day spend eternity here, she disliked having to devote any of her waking time to it as well. And the sorrow experienced here had a habit to linger as well.
The tree was not entirely helpful at shielding her from the hissing rain, which made the sizable-rimmed hat she chose to wear helpful for more than just hiding behind.
She heard the church door scrape open and her attention was drawn towards a woman exiting the structure.
Initially, Elizabeth Sallow had won the jackpot when she was impregnated by the head of a noble house, only to then be cast aside when she did not provide him with a true heir. But, credit to her, the woman had the willpower of an aurochs - a rare trait these days and one Astoria had definitely inherited herself - and she refused to raise her daughter alone. The magistrates' courts spoke in her favour and thus, Benedict Greengrass had a second daughter to raise, neither of which he'd asked for and neither capable of continuing the legacy of which he sought so dearly to preserve. Her sudden devotion towards the wretched man of which today was arranged to celebrate was odd, but then, suppose it was true about the ultimate irony of funerals? They were the only day everyone held a positive opinion of you, and it was long after you were out of reach to appreciate it.
What was it about human's that allowed them to only love when something was out of reach? As soon as it's gone, every crime or ill intent they posed seems to fade with them. She wondered perhaps if as much universal love were shared for the living as was the dead, maybe it'd go a way toward preventing some of those funerals? Why were people only capable of loving at arm's length?
She waited, expecting to see Astoria with her. But no one else followed, in fact, and Elizabeth glowered straight ahead at her. And just like that, here was always something ready to disturb her peaceful isolation.
Up the hill, she came to a halt opposite her.
"Are you coming inside… ?"
There was an odd relationship between this woman and her. They had no relation by blood and thus never had much to do with each other. She had no childhood memories of her to remember, and from Elizabeth's point of view, she imagined she was simply a walking reminder of her lover's previous marriage. She had less of a presence in her sister's life than Moira had had in hers and about the only time they'd see each other were the obligatory Christmas get-togethers and birthdays. Their relationship was built on a shared love for Astoria and clearly, to be getting such hostility from her, was indicative of her current mood. Which she didn't understand.
She watched her from beneath the rim of her large hat. When she did not respond, the woman tried again.
"Listen - I don't care how you're feeling. This isn't about you. Stop being a moody bitch and go say goodbye to your father."
Were her face not frozen from the cold, she may have scolded her for her chosen tone. Instead, she chose to remain icy.
"... I have nothing to say to him."
It was the first time her voice had been used all day, and sounded as such.
Elizabeth's eyes flared.
"Then do it for Astoria. She is in there, crying her eyes out!" she spat in a loud whisper. "She misses her daddy!"
She looked past her to the building shrouded in rain and for a moment, wished it could be as easy as she made it sound.
"... you're her Mum, why don't you look after her? You know, for once?"
She scoffed - a hateful sound.
"For Merlin's sake - she's fifteen, she's just lost her dad, she wants her big sister! What the hell is wrong with -"
"I'm not coming inside."
"Oh, you little… selfish brat!"
She glared under the brim of her hat at her.
"Piss off, Liz."
Elizabeth didn't wait for her to change her mind, as she stormed back towards the procession through the aisles of headstones. She watched the landscape from beneath her hat, trying to decide if they had been watched or not. Though she'd been able to keep out of the eye of other attendee's since leaving the Woodhouse, it was not them she sought to avoid.
Journalists and newspapermen had hovered around the proceedings like flies on manure. It was not every day that the Head Curator of the Department of Magical Artefacts passed away tragically in a boating accident and left behind his two illegitimate daughters as the heirs of their ancient estate. All sorts of dignitaries were arranged to appear; the newest Minister of Magic, various lords from the Sacred Twenty-Eight and some very important members of the Wizengamot. It was all very cunning picking. No mention of any of his lesser-known hobbies. As far as funerals go, this one was as best as anyone could hope for. And was more than the man deserved.
Don't speak ill of the dead, she thought. What nonsense that was. The dead were dead.
Her grieving was over. She held no feelings for the dead man inside that building, anything beyond contempt, anyway, and it was out of respect for others she did not make those true opinions known. But she refused to pretend. She'd meant nothing to him besides being an opportunity for gaining his goals. And he was to her, nothing except the force that caused everything bad that's ever happened to her. He had only himself to blame for the events that led him to that box. He'd made a choice between the family name or the family. And now that family was left without its head and the precious name would die with him. And now because of that, they were as good as orphaned. Even in death she was still suffering the consequences of his actions.
The only grieving in her mind today was for the life she'd never have the chance to live. Perhaps there was a world out there where this was the worst day of her life? That was what she was mourning. The happy family he could have chosen. Or, failing that, the closure she'd be forever denied from now.
At this point, being called selfish was an achievement. She had earned the right. She was raised to be a pet who spoke when spoken to and married rich. She only existed as an extension of his will. So forgive her for not being disappointed that she had the opportunity to be herself. None of it mattered anymore now. His death would not bring her the freedom she wished it would. She'd broken away from his influence too late and fell in too deep. Her actions made under him would be chasing her long after this, and they were not so easily forgotten.
More than just him had died that night. The fanciful side of her that knew if she was a good girl, did as she was told and upheld everyone's expectations, then it'd all be worth it in the end. If she remained as unproblematic as possible, by the end of it she'd be rewarded. She had to be, because otherwise she'd traded her freedom for nothing. Again, an idea that she'd broken from too late. That was never on the cards for her, for it was not her happiness she was seeking to achieve. That innocence died with him and now she saw him for who he was. He had set her on the wrong path and then had left before having to face the consequences. This was the freedom he'd awarded her. All that remained now was that newfound clarity. It was only in numbness that she found her head the clearest it'd ever felt. She forwarded all of the emotions she should have been experiencing today into a singular one. Disdain for the man whose actions lead them to this fateful day, and hatred for the people who stole her life away from her. A piece of her died that night and what was left was a hateful, vengeful shell that sought to wreak the same injustice on the world that had been done to her.
The stars would grow darker again tonight, but still, they would remain. She could never be herself again, because Daphne Greengrass had died that night. All that remained now was a haunted vessel of hate.
A/N I apologise for the wait! I wished to publish this entry only after I'd completed the whole thing so as to give it a reliable upload schedule. Then a reviewer reminded me it's been three years since my last update - and I figured maybe it was best to just chuck out what I have to let people know the project isn't dead! I've been busy working on a visual novel game and continuing to create content for Youtube, but rest assured, this story will reach its conclusion, no matter how long it takes.
Be prepared for this entry to be more linear and focused than its predecessors, while this is still a romance story, expect more of a slow burn here. That's why this story has a companion story "The Greatest Nobody in Nowhere" which is set in the same continuity and lighter in tone. Check that out on my page if you're interested.
