Prologue
Ronnig chewed his fingernails as his eyes leered down onto the battlefield. The angry wind howled like a demon and the cold was so strong it bit the skin, but nothing could compare to the ravaging powers of the enemy. From his location high in the parapet, he was safe. From the looks of the conflict, though, this did not appear to be something that would last.
The King of the West Lowlands wasn’t sure if there were any commanders left to issue orders. He could see the bodies of his most trusted advisors scattered near the gates of his castle like so much debris. If Ronnig had anything left to say, there were few left to hear it.
“Ronnig! Come quickly!” The King turned, recognizing the voice of Zantar, his trusted advisor and wizard of the court.
“The battle! We have to do something!” Zantar merely shook his head, his long beard swaying comically with him.
“This is more important. It’s about your wife. She’s having complications…” Zantar stopped as he saw Ronnig’s eyes flash with pain.
By the time they reached Ronnig’s wife, she was near death. Ronnig angrily demanded that Zantar do something to save her life, and for an hour he performed both the best medical and magical care he could conjure. In the end, he held his head low with shame.
“Your highness…” The greeting was enough to let Ronnig know that the worst had come to past. The two men had known each other so long that formalities were only peccary in cases like these. “There is nothing I could do for her. But I was able to save your daughter.” Zantar presented the infant to her father, who screamed towards him and grasped and clawed at his arm. Ronnig shirked from the touch of the infant. The hate was so strong in his heart that he could admit no other feeling. “My wife died because of injuries she suffered in this attack. These bastards will not go unpunished. Zantar, we must take our leave. Let us fight them to the death!” The wizard solemnly nodded, and motioned at the guards at the entrance to the Queen’s chambers to follow him. The child was left in the room unattended, already forgotten.
The fear that had gripped Ronnig so often throughout his life had abandoned its grip when the far tighter hand of vengeance had taken hold. Ronnig’s party made it to the armory, and he donned the sword and shield of his grandfather. The weapons were relics, but he intended to die honoring his ancestors. Zantar, rather than take a weapon, took his bag of eclectic arcane tools.
The two men, flanked by the four members of the royal guard, bust into the main courtyard just as it was being overrun by enemy soldiers. For a brief moment, the enemy appeared to be completely frozen. Covered in blood and dirt, they were nonetheless clearly organized and in formation. A dozen soldiers in armor stood in front of them, while several more standing on the tipped over decorated tables and chairs spotted bows. Seeing the enemy leader right in front of them could only mean one thing: surrender.
The standstill died as Ronnig let out a bloodcurdling battle cry and starting to swing his sword madly. An order was quickly given, and a stream of arrows flew right towards the royal monarch. A strong wind blew against them at the perfect moment, and the arrows never reached their target.
Zantar quickly smashed several glass objects on the ground, and soon the air was replete with dusty, sight obscuring dark clouds. A few soldiers had the courage to charge through the smoke, but were rewarded by the sight of the billowing wizard’s cloak flying towards them. The wind carried the cloth rights towards them and fully obscured their vision, if only for a few moments. But this was all the time Zantar needed, as he quickly stuck each one of them with a dart coated in poison, and they collapsed to the floor.
The King had already blindly hacked his way through most of the archers, while the royal guards used their pikes and other pole arms to keep the remaining sword-bearing enemy soldiers at a safe distance. Zantar, now clad only in his pants and undershirt, spotted a lone archer further away aiming straight for the King. Ronnig saw the man, but far too late. As the man pulled back the string, the King knew he was finished.
At the last moment, Zantar pulled a shiny stone from his pocket and somehow blinded the archer. A guard had by this time recovered one of the bows from the fallen and shot the enemy before he could recover his vision. Barely a moment had passed before the adjoining room bust open, and a new river of soldiers poured through it.
Ronnig grasped the rusty hilt of his ancient, but still lethal blade and was about to charge into them as well when he recognized the insignia on the shields to be that of his own soldiers. The cadre’s leader, upon seeing his ruler, immediately fell to his knees.
“Your highness, thank goodness you still live. We’ve had some unexpected good fortune as of late. The fight goes on!”
And the fight did continue. Rallied by the fearless leadership of their King, the defending soldiers of the West Lowlands repelled wave after wave of invaders. After many blood soaked hours, they reached the entrances of the castle. Rivulets of oil from the parapets oozed their way down the walls and onto the ground, the blood of both sides colored the ground black and red.
The grim drum of soldier’s metal feet on the stone was soft, but certainly getting louder. More soldiers were getting ready to pour into the castle, and the ragtag group of remaining defenders was becoming too exhausted for a good fight. Zantar nervously eyed the situation, and then told the rest of the group to stand back.
“I will fight them alone,” the wizard claimed solemnly. “Get back lest you be hurt in what I plan to do.” The man’s impressive cloak and his hat were lost somewhere in the courtyard. His body was drenched in sweat and his beard was chalk full of blood and dirt. Yet, somehow he still managed to hold together his prestige. He grasped a nearby torch and started to chant as he heard the enemy approach.
The enemy arrived slowly, being careful not to fall on the slippery ground. The wizard’s dust hid Zantar from view until the area had completely filled. Finally, they noticed the wizard who had by now hoisted himself on the wall.
“Burn, enemies of the Kingdom!” The wizard yelled out as he dropped his torch, and flames erupted from the stone floor. The inferno consumed the group of soldiers and even made its way up the walls in little streams of fire. For a few minutes, the blaze burned white hot, but after that it seemed to consume itself and fade away.
The King gazed upon his friend with wonder and amazement. Zantar looked both exhausted and crazy, his beard burning slightly from wayward embers from the dying flame. Even after seeing it, Ronnig wasn’t sure he believed it.
The defenders quickly roamed the castle, gathering up other survivors. Before long, an impressive, though improvised little army had been assembled. They charged the gates to find the remaining attackers in disarray. In the distance, Ronnig could make out the form of Sendrek, King of the invaders. Beside him stood the gaunt form of his most trusted advisor Minon, the high cleric. Without much thought, Ronnig ordered all of his men towards his encampment.
Sendrek’s forces did not engage their attackers. Instead, they were simply stood frozen next to their commander. Ronnig stepped off his horse and looked at his counterpart with suspicion. He was about to unsheathe his sword when Sendrek spoke.
“I just received word that my wife has died, Ronnig. The wounds were ones she sustained from a stray arrow from your parapets. Nothing you can do to me now will ever be as great as the wound I already carry.”
“My wife too died earlier today. She suffered an injury from one of your catapults.” The two men eyed each other, each with an unquenchable rage on top of a near paralyzing pain of loss.
“The only good news is that they were able to save her child. I finally have a son, Ronnig.”
“My wife was with child also. I have a daughter now.”
“As much as I wish you dead, I have no wish to have your daughter grow up without her father.”
“Nor do I wish your son to be without you.”
“Nor do I wish any of the children of the men who have died here today to grow up without their fathers. But they will.”
“Sendrek, I have hated you ever since I have known you. Our Kingdoms have been at war for generations. The tables have turned dozens of times, even today. How do you ever suppose to cease this?” The two men hit each other with icy stares. Zantar, a few feet behind, began to sense that the good will that each man had shown wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Pardon me, but I think I have an idea,” Zantar began…
Chapter One
18 years later…
Zantar stared at the castle courtyard, his old eyes wearily taking note of how every corner was bedecked with agonizing detail. This was it, the final test of his plan. “Oh well,” he thought to himself, “if this fails, at least I’ve bought us 18 years of peace.”
“Why do you stare, father?” Zantar’s son, Alsev inquired. “Is it because you so keenly remember the great war?”
Zantar nodded, telling a half truth to the boy. “Two days before you were born, Alsev, King Ronnig and I sat on this very parapet and prepared to fight Sendrek’s forces to the death.”
Alsev touched his father’s hand in sympathy. “That’s all done with. There has been peace for nearly two decades. We are welcoming Sendrek and the Kingdom of the Eastern Lowlands as our guests now.”
“I know, my son, I know,” said Zantar. “But I can’t help but feeling uneasy. They haven’t set foot in these castle walls since we drove them out.”
Elsewhere in the castle, King Ronnig was awaiting the arrival of Sendrek with the same uneasiness. The loss of his wife still burned at him, and he half wished he could order his soldiers to strike at the convoy as soon as it entered the walls. Zantar’s plan make that impossible, of course. Not a day went by when the King did not both appreciate and despise all of the implications in that scheme. And yet, the long years of waiting were finally coming to an end…
“Father, how much longer must we wait?”
“Not long, my son, not long,” Ronnig replied. He looked down at the young man he had raised. Thorsten was short and ruddy haired, and was wearing a dark purple robe. It clung to his soft, rotund little body, displaying him as a man who had been pampered and never trained in the ways of combat. He looked nothing like Ronnig, who was tall, spindly, and once had light blonde hair.
Alsev entered the room and bowed at the prince. His slender form made him half the size of Thorsten. The two boys had been born only a few days apart, and had become fast friends. This amiability was only strengthened by the friendship of Ronnig and Zantar, but Thorsten often reminded Alsev that only one of them was a prince. Formalities such as a bow were never to be forgotten, even from his best friend.
“Excited to meet her, I gather?” Alsev asked. The wizard’s already son know that Thorsten was focused exclusively on this opportunity to meet Eira, to whom he was promised at birth to wed. What Alsev didn’t know, of course, was how eager the rest of royal family was to meet her as well. Zantar had managed to keep even his own son in the dark about the true nature of the devil’s deal he had made this day eighteen years ago.
Zantar slowly pondered the plan, still wondering if there had been any other way to guarantee the peace. He had been certain – and still was – that passions of hatred would lead West and East Lowlands to war with each other. There was but one clear way to limit the carnage: to place something so valuable in the enemy camp of each ruler that neither would dare to wage another campaign.
The trumpets sounded in the distance, and the four men knew that the moment of reckoning was almost at hand. For each man, however, this moment was couched in different circumstances. Thorsten was going to meet the woman he would one day marry, and in so doing, heal centuries of conflict between two troubled Kingdoms. Alsev was going to meet officials from East Lowlands for the first time, and perhaps begin to follow his father in the path of diplomacy. Zantar, in seeing the two sides meet, was witnessing the judgment of the ambitious and important decision he ever made.
King Ronnig was perhaps the most eager of them all. For the first time, he would be meeting his daughter face to face.
Chapter Two
“Stop tugging on it,” Eira cried as she tried to pull her hair free from Minon’s aging hands. The high cleric – in addition to being the Kingdom’s spiritual leader and the King’s top advisor – had served as a sort of nanny to the princess for the past 18 years. He had to admit, Zantar’s plan was a work of genius, but it needed to be carefully managed in order to succeed.
“I’m sorry dear, I’ll try to be gentler,” Minon responded in his usual raspy tone as he affixed small ribbons to her flowing mane. “I just want you to look perfect for Thorsten.” She did indeed look like a perfect princess. Her light brown, nearly blonde hair was delicately braided and contained numerous flowers and ribbons. Her flowing dress covered most of her skin but fit her frame fairly snugly. Her creamy skin and voluptuous body were universally admired marks of beauty and royalty, and her smile was stunning.
On this very day, eighteen years ago, Minon had witnessed his King and Ronnig hash out the details of Zantar’s plan for peace. They would both sign a treaty, and seal it with the promise that newborns Eira and Thorsten would one day be married. But just to make sure that no side tried to bolt from the deal, just to make sure that one side wouldn’t simply annul the marriage and renew the war again – the children of the two monarchs would be switched. Thorston would be raised as Ronnig’s son, and Eira would be raised by Sendrek. The two sides would only get their children back if and when the two met in marriage. Of course, this plan had to remain a complete secret from both the Kingdoms and the children themselves. Only Minon, Zantar, Sendrek and Ronnig knew the truth.
The elderly cleric had obsessed for years that some horror would befall the plan and cause everything to come to ruin. He had, of course, taken the important precautions in preparing Eira for her fate. He told her, nearly daily, that God had determined her purpose to be a peacemaker. She was divinely ordered to marry Thorsten.
The impending wedding was only the beginning in Minon’s mind. For decades he had tried to out fight and out wit Zantar, and these past 18 years were no exception. Once the wedding was over, the marriage would begin – and the war between East and West Lowlands would move to a new medium, rather than cease altogether. Each Kingdom would have to make certain concessions to ensure that the peace was lasting, and Eira and Thorston would decide these together.
The war, in Minon’s eyes, would never and could never really end. He had to make sure that West Lowlands had to bear more than its fair share of concessions. The way to do that was to ensure that the one whose sympathy was with East Lowlands controlled the marriage.
As the procession slowly made its way over the drawbridge and past the moat, Minon pondered which one it would be. He was hoping it would be Thorsten, of course. God had placed man at the head of the household, where he belongs. Should the marriage be so lucky, he was sure that Thorsten would act in his interests. Or at least he would when Minon told him of his true heritage…
Though he had never met Thorsten, Minon somehow knew that they would be kindred spirits. Eira had always had a small streak of independent spirit. That spirit had often confounded Minon and led to difficulties in her upbringing. When she was younger, she once had impersonated a young squire and completed a day of training for knighthood before anyone had noticed. Another time she snuck into the castle library and read a book on the occult, a subject that Minon had proclaimed belonged only to evil wizards like Zantar. Just as all fathers have some difficulties in managing their daughters, all husbands have difficulties managing their wives, Minon thought. In this desire, he knew that Thorsten and he would be of one mind.
The procession of the carriage came to a sudden stop, and Eira quickly pushed aside the curtains, eager to see her husband to be. All around her, foreign soldiers were busy giving salutes and blaring into trumpets. A rug was lade before her feat, and she and Minon quickly exited the carriage.
It wasn’t long before Eira spotted a throne, and saw Ronnig sitting before it. Ronnig, vilified in the East Lowlands, seemed older and feebler than she had imagined. By his wizard looking robes, Eira deduced that it must be Zantar at his side.
To the side stood two young men, one of which Eira intuitively and immediately knew was Thorsten. He smiled at her, and she felt her destiny calling. Minon had been right – she was born to marry this man.
Eira curtseyed before King Ronnig, who simply stared at her for a great while before saying anything. After a great moment of hesitation, he beckoned her to come forward. Eira complied, but kept her eyes on the two young men.
“My child,” the King began at last, “I would like you to meet your future husband, Thorsten.” With this, Thorsten walked toward Eira and leaned down to kiss her hand.
Chapter Three
The first thing Eira thought when Thorsten stepped forwards to greet her was surprise. She was so sure that the taller of the two men was Thorsten – this boy was his squire, or his assistant. It was the other boy with whom she had felt the immediate connection, and yet he was not Thorsten.
She barely registered his kiss on her hand and glanced over his shoulder. “This other boy must be Zantar’s son”, she thought to herself.
Eira eyed Thorsten with suspicion. His short frame, ruddy hair, and smug grin reminded her of her father, Sendrek.
“Pleased to meet you, my princess,” said Thorsten with the understanding that she would respond in kind.
“Pleased to meet you as well, my prince.” Eira repeated her courtesy, but this time her heart was not in it.
“We welcome the Kingdom of East Lowlands, and invite all of our guests to attend the royal ball we will be holding this evening,” Ronnig said, concluding the brief evening. Thorsten and the other young man were quickly parted from Eira, and Minon was pulling her back towards the carriage.
Zantar viewed the short encounter with a healthy suspicion. He wasn’t quite sure if things ought to have gone quite like this – perhaps an extended meeting would have been better. First impressions were often difficult to dislodge, and with several hours between now and the ball…
The old wizard tried to put dismaying possibilities out of his mind. This had gone well, all things considered. Soldiers of East and West Lowlands had met in a show of friendship and unity for the first time in over 100 years. Down the courtyard behind him, Zantar could hear Thorsten and Alsev eagerly chatting about Eira.
“Amazing, wasn’t she?” Thorsten gushed. “I’ve never seen a finer specimen of gentle feminine beauty!”
“I’d agree with that,” Alsev replied, eagerly nodding. Thorsten shot him a jealous look.
“Don’t get any ideas. I’m the prince – she’s betrothed to me.” The fact that Thorsten even needed to say this was a tacit acknowledgement of the constant rivalry between the two boys. Alsev was unfazed by the declaration, and from the moment he laid eyes on Eira he was fixing to find some time to get her alone with him – preferably before the ball this evening.
Thorsten was already thinking several hours in advance. He had his pocket mirror out and was trying to adjust his hair and was practicing smiling. Alsev loudly scoffed, and Thorsten responded by giving him a friendly punch in the arm.
“I’m off to become handsome for my princess, Alsev. You certainly don’t need to look handsome for anyone,” Thorsten taunted. Alsev didn’t respond, his eager mind already thinking of plans.
“Yeah, you do that, Thorsten. See you in a few hours.” Alsev studied the carriage were Eira would presumably remain until the ball. He surmised that only she and that priestly looking old man were in it. It would be easy to get rid of someone like him, but there were four guards surrounding the carriage as well.
As he formulated his plan, a few twinges of doubt entered his mind. Why was he doing this? A petty rivalry with a friend? Jealousy at the high station and privileges of a prince? These motives were always sufficient for simple pranks, but Alsev realized he was about do something quite serious.
Then he remembered Eira’s smile. She had smiled right at him. Thorsten was too self absorbed to notice, but he felt her gaze upon him. He felt a power compelling him to do this, Thorsten and the Kingdom be damned.
Alsev reluctantly tore himself from the front courtyard and made his way to the stables, looking for a particular young boy who was always fascinated with his magic tricks. He spotted him almost immediately, and whispered to him the details of his little scheme.
“Do this for me, and I’ll show you how I do the disappearing frog magic,” Alsev concluded. “You’ll be the envy of all your brothers,” Alsev added, and caused the young boy to grin with glee.
A few minutes later, the young boy scampered towards the carriage. The East Lowland guards immediately stopped him, but as he was seized and carried off, he shouted out “Evil spirits! Evil spirits in the wishing well! Warn the princess!” At this, Minon poked his narrow head out from the carriage curtains.
“Evil spirits, you say, boy?” Minon quickly pulled himself out of the carriage, thinking that an ambush might be in the works. He knew Zantar…always trying to get the edge. Not this time.
Minon instructed the guards not to let anyone but himself back into the carriage, and he hurried off with the boy to inspect the tainted well. Before they had left the carriage completely, however, the boy pulled a small flash from his pouch and tossed it into the convoy. Minon, who struggled to gain a good balance in his ornate religious garb, failed to notice.
Eira, who had rolled her eyes at the concept of a haunted well, heard the dull thump of the flask immediately. She picked it up off of the carpeted floor and saw that it was empty, save for a note tucked inside.
“Wave your handkerchief,” said the message without any explanation or identifying mark. Not that it needed one. After studying it for a moment, Eira felt sure who it was from. The note was asking for an identifying mark, a signal to show that she was willing to have a meeting. Whomever had sent it – almost certainly Zantar’s son – had also been responsible for getting rid of Minon. The son of wizard had his father’s wits, she thought. She peeked her head out of the carriage and let her handkerchief wave in the wind like a flag for a few moments.
A few minutes later, a blast of purple smoke erupted from one of the northernmost parapets. Minon, who had finished inspecting the well and found it to be free of evil spirits, saw the explosion from the opposite end of the courtyard. He knew that smoke: it was one of Banter’s signature weapons. He rushed past the boy as fast as he could and made his way back to the carriage.
Alsev had made a gamble – that not only did Eira share his feelings of love at first sight – but also that she was smart enough to understand what the note meant. It meant he wanted a meeting, and that she would not yelp in surprise at his impending entrance.
Chapter Four
After Minon had carefully inspected the castle walls and found no trace of any sinister plot by Zantar, he returned to the courtyard, intending to check to see if Eira was shaken. Instead, however, he found himself face to face with Thorsten, who by now was dressed in his finest royal garb.
“Minon, a word with you,” Thorsten began, and the cleric complied. “You were once arch enemies with Zantar, right?”
Minon nodded. “We were the right hand men of the two respective Kings, young prince. Of course we were enemies.”
“Then, I was wondering…well you see, Zantar’s son, Alsev, is one of my friends…but I never tire of finding new ways to torment him. You know, in a friendly way…anyway, do you know anything about Zantar that would embarrass him, bother him, about his father?”
Thorsten’s query took full possession of his mind, and Minon quickly forgot all about checking on Eira. “Sit down, my boy,” Minon began. “I do indeed have some stories to tell…”
As Thorsten was receiving his fill in scandalous – but mostly false – stories about Zantar, Alsev was quietly exiting the carriage. Aided by the darkening sky and the general downturn of interest in the convoy from the East Lowlands, Alsev was able to slip out undetected.
Eira, meanwhile, was all alone with her thoughts. Alsev had a single message for her: think about it. She and Alsev had felt an immediate, mutual attraction upon seeing each other. Alsev’s dangerous and daring scheme to see her before the ball had only increased that feeling for Eira. He was willing to risk for her, and she liked that.
Being raised by Sendrek and Minon, however, had instilled a little of the manipulator in her. How could she – even for the most nondescript reasons – delay her marriage with Thorsten without inflaming political and nationalistic passions? She knew that she was either to marry Thorsten before her visit was out or perhaps take him with her to be married in her castle after this visit was concluded. The latter option, taking more time, would undoubtedly be best – and she could probably get Minon and Sendrek to push for it, given that they’d see it as a sign of strength that the marriage would be sealed in their Kingdom.
These thoughts, far from comforting her, left her feeling guilty and ashamed. How could she even contemplate such risky actions based on a girlish attraction? And yet, she had to remind herself, she had just been admiring Alsev for being willing to take such risks.
Eira quickly made up her mind: She would spend some time trying to get to know Thorsten, to give him a chance to prove himself to her. If he really was the man she was meant to be with, she would come to know it. If not, she would continue to pursue things with Alsev.
It wasn’t so bad. Alsev, after all, was still part of the West Lowlands. In fact, owing to Zantar’s close relationship with the King, Alsev was practically born into royalty. Assuming that Ronnig and Thorsten weren’t too disappointed, a potential marriage between herself and Alsev could still serve to soothe tensions between the two Kingdoms.
This thought taking full possession of her mind, Eira prepared for the ball. After it was over, she thought, everything would become clearer.
Chapter Five
“You look ravishing, my Princess,” Thorsten said as he leaned towards Eira and kissed her hand. Eira wished she could repay the compliment in kind.
Instead, she merely replied, “If you say so, my Prince.”
Thorsten nodded slightly and licked his lips. “You have a figure fit for a Goddess. A gentle complexion, and hips perfect for…” Thorsten stopped himself for a moment. “Perfect for baring me many sons, I can only hope.”
In a simple sense, these remarks were compliments, and Eira blushed slightly to hear them. She was used to receiving compliments on her looks, but had always assumed that they carried some ulterior motive, usually to curry favor with her father. If she had been born ugly, no one would have dared speak it out loud, and that fear constantly haunted her. Thorsten, despite his princely upbringing, seemed too uncouth to make compliments in that fashion. She knew his affections were genuine.
And yet…something about them rang hollow. Thorsten’s words and looks remaindered her of a hunter, looking at a tender piece of game. He acted as though she was merely the best that he could hope to satisfy his lust and his desire for many children, a desire which he repeated many times throughout the evening.
As the evening progressed, Eira found Thorsten to chalk full of tragicomic absurdities. He insisted on refilling her punch glass for her, and yet tripped and spilt it upon her dress upon returning. He dogmatically insisted that he lead during each dance, and he continuously stepped upon her toes. With no battle stories to call his own, he took to telling stories of dangerous hunting expeditions – stories which, given that Eira had actually been hunting while she tried to be a squire – were not just obviously false, but felt almost like an insult upon her intellect.
Thorsten managed to be both overly energetic and boorish, both light humored and unfunny, and both conceited and insecure. At one point, she even caught him standing on his tip toes to try to equalize the difference in their heights. Eira was so much taller that this made no difference. Thorsten’s short stature didn’t really bother her, but his aversion to admitting of it felt both silly and somewhat shaming. She was proud of her height, and it felt wrong to have Thorsten see it as only a detriment to his hopeless pursuit of feeling tall.
In short, Thorsten was everything that Eira had dreaded, and was in several ways considerably worse. She continuously cast her eyes into the crowd, hoping to spot Alsev. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.
After due course, the ball began to come to an end. Both Kings made short proclamations about friendship and peace, and Eira and Thorsten exchanged kisses on the cheek. Soon, she headed back to the courtyard, and Minon was waiting for her.
“Well, my dear? What do you think of him?” Minon asked once they were safely in the carriage, staring at her intently.
“What do you think of him?” Eira responded, trying to hedge her bets.
“After speaking with him at great length this afternoon, I have the upmost confidence in him. He seems like a fine man, and a perfect husband for you,” Minon spoke proudly.
Eira, almost unsure that they were conversing about the same person, didn’t say anything for a moment. “What did you two discuss?” She asked as innocently as possible.
“We talked about old war stories, mainly. He wanted to know if there was another side to the story about Zantar, other than the whole ‘Honorable and trusted friend of the King,’ bit. You know, his son probably set off those smoke devices earlier today. I can’t believe the incivility of something like that at a time like this. But Thorsten…a man ready to be King if there ever was one. Honest, eager, ambitious…he will rule well, mark my words.” While Minon prattled, he studied Eira’s reaction. She seemed confused and upset.
“Of course, I completely concur,” Eira said at last. “We will wed and rule justly, I am sure.”
Minon noted her phraseology – the “we” – and thought to himself that she wouldn’t be ruling at all. Thorsten’s greatest quality he had neglected to mention – he was exceedingly gullible and malleable. He was a perfect puppet for a man like himself. Still, he wasn’t satisfied that Eira was as smitten with him as she was. “Do wish me to see to is, then, that the wedding will be as soon as possible?” Minon pressed.
“Actually, Minon, I wanted to talk with you about that. I want to take Thorsten with us after this is over. If we marry in our castle, it sends a signal – it shows our half of the lowlands to be the one with the power,” Eira said.
Minon considered this answer for a moment. It was evasive and had the effect of delaying the wedding considerably – exactly the response he would expect if in fact Thorsten was not to her liking. Still, he couldn’t help admit that she was right in what she said, and he had to concur.
“You are correct, my dear, of course. We will arrange to take Thorsten with us on our return journey.”
Chapter Six
Eira had done all she could to delay her marriage to Thorsten, but she knew that at best, that wedding was a little less than two weeks away. Her stay in the West Lowlands would be over in a few days, and with it, her chances of getting close to Alsev.
She had already made up her mind about Thorsten – she could never be a truly happy woman while married to him. Yet she knew that disrupting her marriage to him had the possibility to create chaos and strife. Though Alsev was as good a second choice as was conceivably possible, she knew that several important people would be greatly upset, Minon and King Ronnig among them.
The irrational part of her – the part she had received from her fiery father – wanted to say the hell with them, and marry whoever she wished. The very idea that she was born into matrimony with such as man as Thorsten felt like an insult. The honor of her duty of peace seemed to pale when she allowed herself to wallow in the anger and frustration of her expected role.
The calculating part of her – the part instilled by Minon – knew she had to approach this from a value perspective. Yes, upsetting the balance of power and rejecting her arranged matrimony would undoubtedly cause some degree of chaos and uncertainty. The question then needed to be, was Alsev worth it? Would he truly make such a better husband for her as to be worth potentially starting a war?
It was a high hurdle for any man to clear. Alsev had shown himself to be brave, attractive, and charismatic, but he hadn’t had the opportunity to show her any other qualities.
She decided that she needed to invest some effort into knowing Alsev better. In the meantime, she’d keep up the pretense that she planned to go with the wedding to Thorsten as planned. No need to ruffle any feathers prematurely.
The next time she was to see Alsev was a royal brunch the next morning. She, her father, and Minon had been invited to dine with King Ronnig, Zantar, and Alsev.
The meal itself went rather uneventfully. The adults seemed more interested in hammering out the details of new trade agreements and other aspects of the new alliance and almost seemed to ignore Alsev, Eira, and Thorsten. After the meal was over, Alsev left the table and hoisted himself on one of the taller parapets overlooking the dining hall. Thorsten exited as well, eager to join Alsev on his high perch, but being so much shorter, lacked the reach.
“Do you need a hand?” Alsev asked his friend.
“I don’t need any help from you,” Thorsten spat, and continued, unsuccessfully, to try to pull himself onto the parapet. Thorsten tried to get some footing by placing his weight on a stone archway of one of the several doors adjoining the room.
“Thorsten, don’t. You could…” Alsev’s sentence was cut off as Thorsten completely lost his center of gravity. His leg slipped off of the archway, and he plummeted nearly 10 feet. He landed on his hip, greeting the floor with a scream accompanied by a sickening crunch.
To Eira’s surprise, the first two people from the table to run to his side were Minon and her father. Ronnig and Zantar stood back, both shaking their heads in what looked like disgust. Perhaps they had grown used to Thorsten having frequent accidents, and thus were less concerned.
Sendrek, though, seemed positively startled. “See that he’s given what he needs,” the King instructed Minon, who helped carry him to the castle infirmary. Zantar and Ronnig followed closely behind, leaving Alsev and Eira alone in the dining hall.
Chapter Seven
Eira and Alsev exchanged glances as their families took Thorsten to the medical ward. They said nothing for several moments, content with merely gazing into each others eyes. Eira took a deep breath, filled with nervousness. She tried her best to ready her scattered mind and find something, anything to say.
Before she had the opportunity, though, footsteps signaling return echoed through the passageways leading to the dining hall.
“Is Thorsten going to be alright?” Eira asked.
“He’ll recover, but he won’t be walking around for a while,” Minon replied curtly.
“May I see him?” Eira queried.
“Well…I suppose a little moral support wouldn’t do his recovery any harm. Come this way,” Minon motioned.
“I’m coming too,” Alsev hastily added. Minon scowled at him, but said nothing.
Despite all of the commotion throughout the castle and the many guards outside the medical ward, Thorsten’s bedchamber in it was small and private. Eira and Alsev looked down at Thorsten, tossing and turning in his sleep.
Minon grossly misunderstood Eira’s intentions, and closed the door to the small room, leaving the three alone.
Eira and Alsev, at first, spoke few words and spoke them softly, fearing that they might awaken Thorsten from his heavy slumber. The prince’s sleep, however, proved uninterruptable, and soon they were talking with all the ease that they would normally assume had they had some real privacy. The sleeping prince was all but forgotten.
As the hours passed, Eira became enchanted with the wizard’s son. Unlike Minon and her father, Alsev had less faith in loyalty and dogma and more faith in reason and liberty. He explained to her his belief that a marriage, by itself, could never truly heal the deep wounds between two such troubled Kingdoms. He seemed kind, modest, thoughtful, and wise. What was more, she felt from him neither condescension nor deference. He would be, she decided, a true partner in ruling. A man like Thorsten would relegate her to merely a figurehead, too proud to let anyone help him make a decision.
Alsev was similarly enraptured by this beautiful woman. He saw in her everything that he had ever wanted in a wife – someone who could both appreciate the words he had to offer and be strong and decisive in her own right. Eira was someone who shone with regality and had the fire of an independent spirit. He was utterly convinced that a simple and traditional man like Thorsten would be thoroughly incapable of appreciating her.
Of course, there was another, simpler element to this budding relationship than intellectual admiration. Eira and Alsev were hopelessly attracted to each other. From the moment they set eyes on each other, there was an internal spark. From the shape of their bodies, to the sounds of their voices, to their very scents…they were intoxicated with each other.
This feeling of lusty excitement seemed to grow stronger and stronger as the conversation wore on. Eventually, their fingers began to brush each others. Their bodies moved imperceptibly closer together. Finally, after a poignant silence in the conversation, they leaned in together and shared a kiss. Eira’s arms slowly wrapped around Alsev’s tall, thin body, and the two melted in the embrace.
Just at that moment, the door to room swung open. Eira and Alsev quickly parted, but it was too late: Minon had seen then, and he let out a bloodcurdling shriek. He charged towards Eira in a blind rage.
“You filthy whore! You fiend!” Minon shouted and slapped Eira hard across the face. Alsev quickly pushed the cleric back, and Minon responded by kicking and scratching at him. Minon’s long nails dug into Alsev’s neck and shoulders, and Eira saw little droplets of blood. She screamed and started pounding on Minon’s back, ordering him to let Alsev go.
Thorsten, who was by now wide awake but hadn’t seen any of the ill-fated kiss, watched the struggle play out with eager indifference. He punched the air, while hooting out slogans like “Get ‘em” to no one in particular. All the commotion had roused the suspicion of the guards, and they quickly stepped into the room and pulled the quarrelling parties apart. Without offering an explanation, he grabbed Eira and pulled her out of the medical ward. She continued to struggle, but less this time: she knew that she could have little say in what was likely in store for her.
Chapter Eight
“Explain yourself,” Minon demanded in his raspy voice after he had finished dragging Eira into the carriage. “And please explain quickly.”
“I am in love with Alsev, and he and I are to be married.” Eira spoke the remarks with a bitter, determined defiance.
“You miserable fool…how could you…how could you expect Ronnig would ever agree to this! You’ll ruin everything. You are going to betray everything you were ever born to do…”
“Minon, I do not love Thorsten. I simply cannot marry him. Besides, Alsev believes that this marriage, by itself, just doesn’t have the power to irrecoverably banishing this constant struggle between our two Kingdoms.” Eira’s remark was simply ignored, as Minon spent the better part of her sentence nosily gasping for air with which to yell more.
“Thorsten is a perfect husband and a King. You told me so just yesterday. What could he possibly lack in your eyes?” Minon demanded
“Thorsten lacks intellect.”
“He merely doesn’t concern himself with the unimportant.”
“Thorsten lacks humility.”
“No man who wishes to be King can afford to have low self worth.”
“Thorsten lacks appreciation for who I am.”
“He values you for exactly who you are: a woman who must marry him to save a Kingdom.”
“Thorsten lacks…handsomeness and charm.” Eira mentioned it last for a reason. If it was Thorsten’s only handicap, she could imagine adjusting to it. The fact that it was one of so many made it much harder to do so.
“Oh, so we at last come to the crux of the matter,” Minon said sardonically. “I should have known, with you being so young, you would be unable to put duty ahead of the temptations of sin.”
“Just because I’m not attracted to Thorsten doesn’t mean I’m a sinner!” Eira insisted.
“Oh, but you are willing to jeopardize eighteen years of peace because Alsev is so much prettier? That’s a sin, my dear. You shamed yourself and your family by sinning with Alsev. You’re nothing but a whore, a monster.” Minon spoke these remarks with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm. “Do you understand me?”
“I do not and I will not. And this isn’t your decision to make. I’m the princess. I will marry who I please.”
Minon cackled at this. “Who do you plan to appeal to? Ronnig? Sendrek? The two Kings who bet the salvation of their lands on your marriage to Thorsten will have none of this. You know that whatever your wishes, you must bow to duty.”
“I’ll die before you, or my father, or anyone forces me to marry Thorsten.” Eira said the remarks with wounded, righteous anger. She had felt violated by Minon’s interruption, and since then, by his shaming. She almost felt compelled to say what she needed to say in the way that would make Minon as upset as possible.
Minon, meanwhile, was silently thinking that if Eira made an appeal to Ronnig, he would likely listen. He know that Ronnig was, of course, was Eira’s real father. He would never let her be unhappy, and he certainly wouldn’t abide by a peace agreement bought through his daughter’s suffering.
Trying to force Eira into the marriage against her will carried the possibility of everything that he had worked so hard for disintegrating. Worse, he knew that Zantar and Alsev were more than capable of causing some kind of destabilizing incident, possibly at the wedding itself.
No, Minon finally decided, he was going to need convince Eira to marry Thorsten of her own accord. She was not willing to listen to reason, only to her own sinful impulses. He needed to make her feel utter abhorrence of these sinful impulses. How he was to do this, though, was an enigma. She certainly didn’t seem to be open to verbal persuasion…
“I don’t know what you are thinking, Minon, and I don’t want to know. What I do know is that I will be happy with Alsev, not with Thorsten. Nothing you can say or do will change that.” Eira waited for a response, but only was greeted with a sickly smile from Minon.
“Nothing I can do eh?” Minon let out a long, dry, foreboding cackle. “Well, then, I suppose that you and I are at an impasse. So let’s compromise. I will let you continue to see Alsev. I’ll even help you secure some genuine privacy. Spend some time getting to know him, see if you really believe…if you really believe you will be happy with him. If you continue to believe that is so, then the Kingdom be damned. If you’ve changed your mind about the importance of respecting duty and abhorring your…monstrous sin, then you will marry Thorsten as planned.”
Eira was shocked, and suspicious. Minon was conceding far too much. “What do you want from me in return for all of this?” she asked with skepticism.
“I want you to give me your word that you will discuss all of this with no one. Not Thorsten, not Ronnig, not your father. If you reconsider, it would be best if you and I were the only ones that knew of these happenings.”
Eira nodded, believing the bargain to be fair. “I give you my word.”
“Then we are at an agreement, my dear. And…I wish to apologize for my earlier behavior. I was angered and started…I didn’t mean everything I said.” Minon held out his arms to Eira, begging an embrace.
Eira, somewhat reluctantly, put herself in Minon’s hug. He slowly rocked her back and forth, whispering something incomprehensible as he did so. As Eira started to pull back, Minon produced something from his robes.
“I have a gift for you…to show you my sympathies are always with you.” Minon said slowly. He showed Eira a small, metallic charm with several sharp edges. The little trinket resembled a metal crescent moon.
“What is it?” Eira asked innocently.
“It’s to show you how much I love you…let me give it to you.” Minon pushed the trinket into her Eira’s right hand. He grasped her palm with both hands and pressed it hard, digging the small metal spikes on the charm into her flesh. Eira screamed and tried to pull away, but Minon held her hand firm and pressed the charm deeper into her hand.
Finally, Eira wrenched herself free from Minon’s grip and pulled the silver moonlike object out of her hand. It was now wet with blood. “I don’t know what kind of sick practical joke this is, Minon, but I don’t find this amusing. Keep your gifts to yourself,” she said, as she flung the charm into the ground. Minon did not respond, merely greeting her with an eerie, quivering smile.
Chapter Nine
That night, Eira experienced a restless, nightmare-filled sleep. Her sleeping mind drifted to thoughts of war, carnage, and death. She awoke drenched in a cold sweat more than once, out of breath and incredibly itchy and uncomfortable in her nightgown. She scraped her skin so raw with her nails, causing near-bleeding on a few patches of skin. By the next morning, Eira was more drained and exhausted than before she went to bed.
She didn’t see Minon all morning, but one of the guards outside her carriage delivered her a note that bore his signature. It said “South Stables, Noon,” but although it bore Minon’s signature, the two words didn’t seem like Minon’s handwriting. She rummaged through her belongings, eager to find note she had received from Alsev earlier. Sure enough, the writing matched.
After a few moments of thought, she realized what this probably meant. Minon was making good on his promise to try and find her and Alsev some privacy to figure out their situation. She was mildly surprised. What could his motive possibly be? He had given in far too easily last night. She knew that he was always trying to get his way. The man never stopped until he achieved what he wanted.
Eira knew that noon would arrive before she knew it, and so she put Minon out of her mind and focused on what she would wear for Alsev. She settled on something she thought nobody would miss if it was soiled in a place as filthy as a stable. She would have preferred dancing with Alsev at the ball, decked her finest, but she knew that Minon was probably the only one who was going to help her and Alsev get privacy. If a stable was their only abode, than they would make it their palace.
It wasn’t immediately obvious why the stables were chosen when she arrived. Alsev, who was waiting for her, quickly explained.
“I talked with your friend Minon this morning about what happened yesterday. He thinks he’s given us some privacy so I can explain why we are all wrong for each other. I told him this stable would be a perfect backdrop, a beautiful metaphor. You, as a princess, don’t belong in a place like this, just as you don’t belong with a person like me. What he doesn’t know is that I chose this location because, if you want, we can take two of these horses and ride out of here.” Eira, suddenly enchanted with the notion of riding away somewhere with Alsev, didn’t bother explaining her own episode with Minon.
“Where would we go, Alsev?” She asked, wide eyed.
“Anywhere you want to you, my lady.” Alsev spoke the words coolly, and Eira’s heart melted. Implicit in that simple sentence were so many wonderful truths. It contained grace, charm, adventure, and a willingness to put her needs and wishes into the decision.
She stepped forwards, and enveloped him in a tight embrace. After such a tumultuous experience at this castle, she was eager to leave, and increasingly, with him. She could feel his warm breath on her ear, and felt herself becoming progressively more and more excited about his proposal for a new life.
But was it that? Eira suddenly pulled back, needing clarification. “How long would we be gone for, Alsev?”
He scratched his head. “Well, for a few hours. We do want to get back before they start missing us at the dinner tonight, right?”
Eira’s heart sank. She had misinterpreted him after all.
“What, how long would you like to leave for?” Alsev asked the question so innocently that Eira couldn’t keep herself from blurting out what she really felt.
“Forever!” Eira felt her face flush with embarrassment.
“But…what about you being queen, and making sure that our Kingdoms don’t go to war?” Alsev spoke these words slowly, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Alsev, I want you and only you. I know you are the one that I’m meant to be with. I’ll do anything if it means we can be together.”
Alsev wasn’t sure what to believe. Catching the princess’s eye for a few moments seemed doable. But was it really his destiny to leave everything he had ever known? To betray his best friend? Perhaps even become King? As he marveled at his own fortune and Eira’s beauty, his doubts faded away. If they decided that they wanted something, then they’d have it. Nothing would get in their way.
He leaned forwards and slowly stroked Eira’s face. They soon began to kiss eagerly and hungrily. Eira wrapped her arms around Alsev and gripped him tightly. As they began to kiss deeper and faster, she felt her grip on him grow stronger. Alsev eventually broke this kiss, panting and out of breath.
The two made their way to a little corner of the stables, clean and isolated. Hay wasn’t the most comfortable substance, but it would do.
Alsev pushed Eira against the cobblestone wall and kissed her gently as he leaned his body against hers. She moaned through the kiss and ran her fingers through his hair. She could feel herself becoming aroused, but she also seemed to be feeling something else…
Alsev, meanwhile, wasn’t completely carried away in the moment. Dual concerns over being caught in a compromising situation and making Eira feel uncomfortable by doing too much battled in his mind. He hesitated, and tried to pull back.
Eira, however, suddenly felt a surge of sexual aggression. She reached her arms around the retreating Alsev and pulled him back towards her. She pressed her face up against his and started to kiss him again. She put one hand around his back, pinning his body to her, and one hand on his head, pressing it against her own.
Alsev could feel her tongue probing his mouth deeply and could feel the gnashing of her teeth against his. She gripped his hair and held him in place so tightly that it hurt. At first he was surprised and a bit frightened, but those feelings quickly faded as arousal usurped them.
Eira didn’t know what had come over her, but she liked it. She pulled Alsev’s body around and switched their roles by pressing him against the wall. She continued to kiss him as she ground her body against his.
Eventually, Eira broke the kiss. She placed her mouth at Alsev’s ear and let out a feral growl. “I want you,” she said in a low voice. “Now.”
Alsev started to protest that this was neither the time nor the place, but didn’t get the chance. Eira hoisted him into the air and lay him down on one of the bails of hay. Alsev was surprised she could so easily lift him, but enjoyed it nonetheless. He was more startled, however, at the sight of Eira’s arm. It was large and muscular, and strained her top.
As he lay on the hay, he got a good look at Eira. Up until this point, they had been kissing with their eyes closed and in a relatively dark area. He hadn’t had a really good chance to look at her.
Now he did, and he didn’t know what to make of it. Eira’s body had become significantly more muscular. Her clothes now stretched to cover her chiseled, strapping body. Her face bore a greedy glint, and as she smiled, he could see that her teeth were sharper. Her hair had become darker and increased in volume. Even her skin seemed to be a strange color.
Eira jumped on top of Alsev and resumed their kiss. Alsev, still in disbelief, ran his hands across her arms to make sure they really were as he had seen them. They were, and as he felt those hard biceps he could feel himself becoming hard. Alsev lay their passively, not sure what frightened him more: the fact that his princess seemed to be transforming into some kind of monster, or the fact that he was enjoying it. Eira didn’t notice anything. She pinned Alsev down, and arched her back. She let out a guttural moan and shook her head wildly, her hair falling into her face.
It was then that Eira noticed that her hair was dark. She gazed at the unfamiliar tresses in confusion. It was then that she noticed the little wound she had sustained yesterday when Minon thrust the metal charm into her hand had not healed. In fact, it seemed to be glowing bright red.
Fear briefly coursed through her veins as she stared at the glowing wound. It was vaguely moon shaped, like the charm. As she stared, though, it seemed to fade away.
Eira examined her hair again. It was dirty blonde, as always. Had she imagined the entire thing?
Alsev, meanwhile, was lying under her, incredulous. He had seen his princess transform from woman to monster, and now back again before his eyes.
“Eira? What’s going on?” Alsev asked in a tight, frightened voice.
Chapter Ten
“I…don’t know, Alsev.” Eira suddenly thought about the fact that she had pinned Alsev to the stable floor and had been, a few minutes ago, grinding her body against his. Had she really been that bold? That crazed with lust? It seemed unthinkable now, but perfectly natural just a short while ago…
The red wound on her hand seemed like it had to be a clue. Perhaps Minon might be able to held her understand what it was.
Then it hit her. Of course Minon would be able to know what it was – Minon was the cause of it. She was sure that somehow this was a kind of practical joke, a way to expressing his disapproval of Alsev.
“Alsev, I have to go. Stay here. I have to do something.” Without waiting for a reply, Eira quickly ran out of the stables and back around the castle the front courtyard. She felt hurt and embarrassed, and bitterly angry that Minon had tried to poison her romantic encounter with Alsev. She had been so close to abandoning it all and riding into the sunset with him – and yet now she, once again, would have to consult Minon.
She found him in the carriage with an evil glint in his eye and a dark smile.
“Well, well. You seem awfully upset over something. Care to discuss?”
“What is this,” demanded Eira as she shoved her injured hand into Minon’s face, “some kind of joke?”
“It’s the mark of the beast,” Minon began. “It’s an illustration of your…perversions and sins.”
“What have you done to me?” Eira said, now yelling.
“I’ve fixed things so your body will be as ugly as your mind, that’s all. I’ve created an incentive for you against your lusty desires.”
Eira sat, stunned, still not believing or understanding what she was hearing. Minon continued, talking quickly and excitedly.
“You told me you were attracted to Alsev, but not Thorsten. That means that Alsev will…shall we say…bring out the worst in you, while Thorsten will bring out the best. I’ve fixed things so that you’ll never feel that Alsev will make you happy. Your temptation to ruin your future has been tempered.”
As Minon preached his hateful sermon, tears rolled down Eira’s round cheeks. She felt pain and betrayal, but mostly a sense of sadness that Minon was probably right: Alsev and she could never be together.
As she contemplated what Minon had done to her, though, her pain faded to rage. “I’ll get even with you,” she screamed. “You just wait. This isn’t over.” She stormed out of the carriage and out onto the cobblestones of the courtyard. It had begun to rain, but that didn’t stop her from running back to where she had left Alsev as fast as her legs would carry her.
Alsev was where she had instructed him to wait, though she knew that they couldn’t stay there long. The rain meant everyone would soon return to the castle. She and Alsev quickly found and entered through a door on the southern side without saying a word to each other.
Chapter Eleven
Eira explained her predicament to Alsev as calmly as she could. Alsev simply nodded, not knowing what was appropriate to say. Finally, after she was finished, she made her request known.
“Alsev, the only person I believe we can safely talk to about this is your father.”
Of course, Alsev had already considered this. But he didn’t want his father to get involved. He knew that his legacy had been diplomacy, not wizardry. Why would his father help him destroy everything he had worked so hard to achieve?
Unless…unless he didn’t let his father know was really going on.
~
“And you have no idea why Minon would do this?” Zantar asked as he examined Eira’s hand wound.
“No idea, sir.” Eira replied.
“Well…it appears to be a bewitching signet imprint. There’s nothing I could do to help you unless I got a look at the signet itself.” Eira remembered a the charm that Minon had used to inflict the wound.
“I don’t have it. But I think I know where I can get it.”
“This is a serious matter, Eira. Get it. I’ll wait here for your return.”
Eira got up to leave, and Alsev was about to follow her.
“Son, you stay here. We need to talk,” Zantar said grimly. After Eira exited the room, Zantar started to yell. “So, when were you going to tell me about your little escapade with the Princess?”
Alsev, stunned, did not reply.
“Oh, I had a hunch from the moment I saw her that you’d take a fancy to her, yet seeing you two together, you almost seem like Minon did this to stop you from having your way with her!”
“Father, that is why he did it,” Alsev admitted.
Zantar was taken aback. “So you really intend to destroy my legacy. To destroy 18 years of hard won peace…”
“Father, we are in love. I’ve always tried to befriend Thorsten, but surely you must know he’s not fit for a princess like her.”
“My boy, that’s not your decision to make. They were promised to each other at birth, you know. The two Kingdoms must be joined!”
“Father, the tension in the air is so thick that men like Minon are just itching to go to war. Marriage cannot guarantee peace,” Alsev countered.
“Of course not, but East and West must meet, Alsev.”
“And they will meet. Am I not from the West?”
At this, Zantar hung his head low. “Yes, Alsev, you are. But so is she.”
“Father, what are you talking about? Eira is Sendrek’s daughter.”
“No, Alsev, no she is not. She is Ronnig’s daughter. Thorsten is Sendrek’s child.”
Alsev sank to the ground at this revelation, his mind reeling. “So that’s why…that’s the secret to this whole plan. You knew that neither man could possibly start a war if that war would make their own child the enemy…you knew they’d want the peace to last until they cold be reunited with their child.”
“Yes, Alsev. And that is why you have to fix this situation with Eira. You know as well as I do that Minon and Sendrek will go to war if the new rulers are both from the West.”
Alsev nodded, solemnly. “Yes father, I know what I have to do.
Chapter Twelve
Eira was unable to locate Minon despite hours of searching, nor could she find the charm that had sliced into her hand. While most of the important people in the castle had been out in the countryside, they had received word of a plague outbreak, and it had been advised that for the next few days, everyone hide themselves away to avoid the spread. Eira found that people would literally flee her presence, lest they be the ones to spread infection to her. Minon had disappeared, and she knew that even if she could find him, it was highly unlikely she would get the charm back.
Eira tried to contact her father in case he knew Minon’s whereabouts, yet she was quickly made aware that he was refusing to see her as well. After several hours of toiling in futility, she returned to Alsev’s quarters.
She was surprised to find Zantar absent. “I couldn’t find the charm,” Eira said.
“My father didn’t think you would. If Minon really wants to curse you, he’ll find a way to hide that thing from you forever.”
Forever. The word felt like a knife in her gut.
“Eira…there’s more.” Alsev proceeded to tell her about how his father had arranged for her and Thorsten to switch places as babies.
Eira soaked it all in, somehow knowing that this was the only real explanation for how things must have come to be. Why else did Thorsten look so much like her father? Or, rather, the man that was supposed to be her father?
“So, you see Eira, we can never be together. Never.”
The words sank into her like poison. This hurt more than any curse Minon could have ever uttered. It burned worse than any shame she had borne and felt more constricting than any corset she had ever been forced into. Not that she could blame him.
“I understand, Alsev.” Eira quickly exited Alsev’s quarters without saying goodbye. Eira didn’t understand. She had arrived at the castle hopeful and eager to serve out her duties as a princess. Yet over the past few days, she had become aware at the lengths men like Minon and Zantar would go towards ensuring she had no choice in this. She was angry and wanted to be defiant. In a flurry of passion, it seemed as though Alsev was ready to be defiant as well. And now, this little revelation changes everything? It seemed too simple. Then, it hit her. She ran back to Alsev’s room and burst it open. He was surprised and only partially dressed.
“Alsev, you don’t have to lie to me. I know why you are changing your mind on us.”
“Eira, what are you talking about?” Alsev fidgeted as he struggled to pull on the rest of his sleepwear.
“You know very well. It’s this curse. I don’t blame you for finding it hard to love a monster. But don’t pretend you are in this for the Kingdom’s sake. A few hours ago, we were ready to throw all that away.”
“Eira, how can you say that! Look, the truth is that after talking with my father, seeing him talk about his hard work…I don’t want to ruin everything that he has dedicated his life to. And I know now why he was so committed to the idea of the marriage between you and Thorsten.”
“Don’t patronize me, Alsev. I know you must have found me repulsive.” Eira suddenly realized that, although she was aware of her transformation, she had not seem it directly herself. “What…exactly, did I look like?”
“You weren’t a monster. You were strong…powerful…” At this, Alsev walked forwards. He traced his hands up and down her arms.
Eira was startled. The way he used those words seemed more like a compliment, rather than an insult. “But, Alsev, I must have acted monstrous…”
He shook his head. “No. You were aggressive, eager, dominating…” He found the descriptions almost coming out of his mouth against his will. He had made up his mind – they couldn’t be together. And yet, talking about her transformation was making him want her more than ever. His hands were playing with Eira’s hair.
Eira inspected her hand and could see the wound start to glow again. She could feel herself tingling with Alsev’s touch and knew the transformation was going to happen again.
“Alsev…you have to stop.” He quickly complied. “We need to think about this, about the Kingdom, about my freedom from this curse.”
“I was foolish,” Alsev implored, his gaze fixated upon Eira and his emotions taking full control of him, “to Hell with the Kingdom. I want you.”
“You can have me,” Eira said breathlessly, “but when we find Minon’s signet charm and destroy it.”
“Why wait?” Alsev asked eagerly.
“Alsev…you don’t know what it feels like to be under this curse. I can’t really believe you could love me like this…and I don’t know what I’m capable of doing to you.”
“But, I’m not afraid. I need you. Now.”
Eira could feel herself get warmer just through this talk. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel the transformation beginning. Her arms and legs shook with energy and her lusty desires welled up inside of her. “Alsev…I just want to be prefect for you. I want you to have just what you want. I want to give you just what you need.” She looked at him with a pleading look in her eyes.
Alsev moved closer and pressed his lips against hers. She met the kiss with a kind of contentment. He really did want her, curse and all. Even as he held her body tight and controlled the kiss, she couldn’t help but imagine this to be a submissive gesture. He was willingly giving himself over to her, to her bestial nature. He was eagerly accepting his fate. He was sending as signal – he was all hers.
On this thought, her mind pounced.
Chapter Thirteen
Eira felt her princess mind fade away into the kiss. Alsev, she knew, was both the son of a wizard and a healthy, red-blooded young man. But Eira was no longer a princess. Every prohibition, every political and religious duty, every obstacle to her own personal pleasure and satisfaction came crashing down in her mind. She was no longer Eira the betrothed, she was Eira the beast.
She quickly took charge of the kiss, thrusting her tongue as deep into Alsev’s mouth as it would go. She took several steps forwards and pinned his back against the stone wall. She ground her body up against his and kissed him with ferocity and gnashing of teeth.
Alsev was merely clinging to her for dear life. He, though startled, was once again enjoying every minute of it. This time, though, he knew what was going on. He had understood it, made peace with it, and even invited it upon himself.
Eira fumbled with Alsev’s sleep robes. With one powerful yank of her now muscular arms, she tore a huge swath from its front. She stopped the kiss and hoisted him up into the air. When his waist was in line with her mouth, she used her teeth to pull down his underwear.
She could feel her own clothes starting to give way as her transformation rapidly accelerated. Her dress was pulling itself to shreds, unable to support her larger frame. Her wider shoulders had pulled her dress in two, revealing her large breasts sitting proudly on her now muscular and chiseled chest. Her arm sleeves burst open, revealing powerful biceps, and her new powerful legs utterly destroyed her tights. She was all but naked as she lifted Alsev onto his bed and used her new strength to pin him there.
Alsev ran his hands over Eira’s new body. He traced the lines of her powerful muscles and felt himself salivating. Her new darker hair was a feral main, falling into her face. He could feel that hair fall into his face as well as she crawled on top of him and stared at him.
Eira was, objectively, more than human. But she wasn’t just a monster, at least according to Alsev. He also saw in her a Valkyrie warrior angel. She was majestic in her strength, beautiful in her ferocity, and loving in her aggressive lustfulness. In her altered face, he saw the anger that she bore to the world, the fierce desire she had to live her own life for her own desires, and paradoxically the tenderness she inexplicably developed under the care of men like Sendrek and Minon. She was a Goddess to him, a Queen. He both loved her and lusted for her with every fiber of his being.
She looked down at Alsev with the hunger of starving wolf gazing at a lame deer. Eira pulled her body onto his, possessing him, taking in him in, dominating him, and making their two bodies one.
Alsev rand his hands up and down her powerful body as she rocked herself back and forth. His fingernails etched themselves into her back as her teeth tasted his shoulder. They both growled and cried out in passion as their animal desires completely overtook them. It was quickly over for both of them, their climaxes hitting early and hard.
After, Eira spooned Alsev, her large, powerful body nestling and protecting his. She gently stroked and cuddled with her lover, and the two slept.
Chapter Fourteen
When the two lovers awoke, it was to the sound of the rooster announcing the dawn. Faint rays of light came into a parapet overlooking the room, and Eira and Alsev held each other in calm satiation. Eira was back to her fully human form, just as beautiful but in a different way to Alsev. They kissed, and enjoyed a few moments of bliss before their world was utterly destroyed.
There was the clink of metal feet against the stone floor. Then, the door to Alsev’s room creaked and crashed as it was literally torn from its hinges. Before either of them had time to react, the room was quickly flooded with guards bearing the East Lowlands insignia on their chests. They were quickly followed by Minon, and then by Sendrek.
“I told you, your highness. I told you the wizard was not to be trusted,” Minon intoned. Sendrek said nothing. “This was their plan all along,” the cleric continued, “To pair up two from the West Lowlands together. To win the war through treachery and trick diplomacy.”
Alsev looked up at the guards, half-fearing that they would kill him for “defiling” their princess. But they did nothing. Finally, Sendrek spoke.
“You are no daughter of mine. You never have been, and you never will be.” With this, he walked towards their bed, and spat on his daughter. He and Minon then left the room. As they did, Minon casually spoke to the head of the guards.
“Kill the boy, but keep Eira alive. I’ll see to her myself later.” he said, without a trace of regret or pain in his voice.
“No!” Eira shrieked out. She quickly pushed her half-naked form in front of Alsev’s. “Don’t! Please!” She saw the leader slowly pull out his sword as Minon and Sendrek walked out into the corridor. The guard captain walked towards the two, slowly and with deliberation. He put a gauntleted hand on Eira’s bare form and shoved her aside.
The princess struggled to push back as Alsev cowered as close to the wall as he could. The other guards remained stationary, allowing their captain to carry out his orders.
Eira pushed and pulled with all her might, but all she succeeded in doing was pushing the captain off balance. She knew that within seconds, her love would be dead. She summoned all of her strength and changed up against the captain, her soft, fleshy form making little impact on his chainmail vest.
“I order you, stop!” Eira cried out, but the guard threw her against the hard wall. Eira, feeling nearly helpless and defeated, suddenly realized what she had to do. She closed her eyes and remembered her passion last night. She remembered the pain she had felt when Minon had stabbed her with the charm. She ran her fingers over the indentations of the wound in her hand and remembered all the pain and restrictions of her upbringing. Then, she remembered the liberation she had felt when she had rebelled against it and the power she had gained from lust.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Alsev being pushed down, and the guard’s arm raised, ready to plunge the sword into him. She felt herself start to change, and she remembered how it had been she who had pushed Alsev down onto the same bed the night before. Her strength swelled within her, and she lunged at the guard.
This time, her weight and her strength were enough to stagger the captain. His downwards thrust missed Alsev, instead hitting the bed and shredding a large slice of it. Feathers flew everywhere, and for a moment, confusion reigned. Alsev saw the other guards startled by Eira’s sudden transformation, and they began to reach for their weapons. Alsev knew he had just one chance, and reached under his bed for his secret weapon.
Eira had grasped the guard captain’s neck. She was in the process of smashing his head against the wall as a wave of purple smoke filled the room. She knew Alsev had done it, and she hoped he would try to escape, with our without her.
“Alsev, go!” She growled out into the fog. “I won’t leave without you,” she heard him cry out. “Go, now! That is not a request!” She heard the scamper of unclothed feet against the stone, and knew he had gone.
Eira let go of the neck of the now unconscious captain, and reached for his fallen sword. She roared into the fog and swung wildly. Her long arms gave her and advantage over her foes, and she pushed them back with broad strokes. As the fog cleared, she started to see the guards pulling back and running in fear. She hoped they wouldn’t catch up to Alsev.
Chapter Fifteen
Alsev was running as fast as his legs would carry him towards his father’s room. When he had awoken him, Alsev explained the bad news.
“I have failed you, father. I have destroyed everything you have worked for.” Alsev bowed before the old wizard, expecting the worst.
“ What, exactly, have you done, my boy?” Zantar asked inquisitively. After a few moments of heavy silence, Alsev told him everything.
Zantar absorbed the information with a surprisingly calm demeanor. After his son was finished, he sat for a moment quietly and pondered the chain of events.
“So, the war is on now, then,” Zantar remarked.
Alsev nodded. “Yes, that’s likely.”
“Then, my boy, you are in luck, for I have no time to address anything you have done. We are needed in the ramparts of the battle.” Zantar and his son got dressed, with Alsev donning one of his father’s robes and a special brown pouch containing some of his father’s best magical supplies.
“Eira.” Alsev said at last. “We have to go back for her.”
“You go back for her, I must see to the King,” Zantar replied. “Meet me in the King’s chambers.”
They both took off running as fast as they could in opposite directions. Alsev made it back to his quarters quickly. He saw the back of one of the guards, and took his wizard staff (borrowed from his father,) and jabbed him in the back of the knees.
The guard fell, but cried out in a woman’s voice. Alsev rushed around into the room, to find that his “guard,” had been Eira trying to equip herself with a set of East Lowlands armor.
“Alsev,” she cried out as she struggled to pull herself from the floor and embrace him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know…with the armor.” She shook her head, and embraced him tightly. “
We have to stop Minon, I don’t know what he will do,” Alsev said quickly.
“I do,” Eira said. “When this captain came to, I questioned him on what he knows. Minon’s told everyone everything about us. He’s saying Zantar planned all along to take the power away from the East and keep it in the hands of the west. Alsev, our castle is under siege.”
Alsev was struck by these words, particularly the last sentence. “Our castle?” he said
“Yes, us, the West Lowlands, that is the Kingdom of my birth, the only Kingdom to which I will ever be welcome, the Kingdom to whom I am now loyal,” she said.
“Why the armor, then?” Alsev asked dumbly.
“You wizards, always darting about. Alsev, if I’m going to fight, I’m going to need protection, this armor was the only one available. “
“You mean to fight on the front lines?” he asked again incredulously.
“Of course, but you must not,” she chastised. “I can’t keep up my morale unless I know for sure you’re safe.”
“But my father needs me,” Alsev said, “besides, why must you fight? You’re the princess!”
“Who cares about your father!” Eira spat. “You should care about what I want, and I want you out of harm’s way! And what’s this about me being the princess, so I can’t fight!?! You sound like Minon with that talk.”
The remark stung. Of course, Eira was referring to Minon the manipulator, and Minon the religious upholder of every archaic tradition, not Minon the curse wielder nor Minon the murderer. But all possible means of identifying the evil man hit Alsev, and he turned away.
“You do what you wish, then,” said Alsev, with great pain in his voice.
“I didn’t mean that,” Eira quickly said. “My anger…I just feel so out of control. I spoke without thinking. I’m sorry.” She quickly pulled him to her embrace.
“Someone needs to help defend our Kingdom,” Alsev said.
“We will both do it. We will fight together, side by side, and defeat Minon once and for all,” Eira proposed. Alsev agreed, and the two made their way to Ronnig’s chambers.
Chapter Sixteen
When they arrived at the King’s chambers, they found Zantar furiously trying to give medical care to Ronnig, who lay upon his bed. He had been gazing out at the battle, as he had so many years before, but this time, a lucky archer had seen him and had hit him in the chest.
“It is only fair that I die like this,” Ronnig said slowly. “I can’t wait to be reunited with my wife.”
“You won’t die, your highness, not on my watch,” Zantar said, but it was obvious that the wizard thought otherwise.
“Who’s at the door?” Ronnig asked. The two walked towards the fallen King slowly.
“My daughter, my daughter…” he said with great pain. “Come closer.” Eira moved towards her true father’s side, and he did his best to embrace her.
“I’m sorry that I never had the chance to know you as a child. Please know that I loved you from afar. I had hoped to become you father again once you were Queen, but I fear I will not see that day, though I know it will come soon. I love you, my child…” The King paused, and turned his head. “Alsev, I believe you might have something to say to me?”
Alsev deeply bowed and knelt before his King. “Sir, your highness…” he paused, knowing full well what he needed to say but momentarily lacking the courage. “May I have the honor of having your daughter’s hand in marriage?”
The King placed his hand on Alsev’s hair, and patted his head. “If it be my daughter’s wish, your request is granted. You will make a fine, fine, King, my boy.” With those remarks, the King breathed out his last breath, and was no more.
Zantar spoke his final respects to his King in an ancient wizarding language. Then, he said something that surprised everyone.
“Eira, by the fact of your father’s passing, I hereby recognize you as the Queen and ruler of the land of the West Lowlands.”
“What has become of Thorsten?” The new Queen asked.
“Before he died, King Ronnig told me that Minon had told him everything, and that he now swears his loyalty to the East.”
Alsev shook his head. “I should have known.”
“What else do we know?” Queen Eira pressed Zantar.
“Well, we know that they’ve taken us by surprise, but they have a smaller force than we do. Without doubt, more forces are on the way, but if we can fight off what they have here now, we will continue to have a numerical advantage.”
“Take us to the battlefield,” Eira said.
“With all due respect, your highness,” Zantar began, “We just lost one ruler of our land that way. We need you to remain in safety.”
“Zantar, I don’t intend to observe this battle; I intend to fight it. I’m going to the courtyard, without you, or without you,” Eira said defiantly. Zantar reluctantly acquiesced, and the three made their way to the battlefield.
By the time the three had made it to the courtyard, however, the battle appeared almost won for the forces of the West Lowlands. The enemy forces were cornered, pressed up into the last vestiges of the castle, just as Zantar had remembered then nearly 20 years ago.
Without the battle going so well, Alsev’s safety was not in question, and thus, it was more difficult for Eira to summon up her strength. She was awkward in the heavy chainmail, and kept mainly to the sidelines of the fight.
Even Zantar was barely needed. The soldiers of the West, although surprised, had an overwhelming numerical advantage. Before the three had even had a chance to really join the fight, it was clearly over. A handful of soldiers were guarding Eira’s carriage, but everywhere else seemed secure.
As the carriage became surrounded, the last enemy soldiers guarding it dropped their weapons and knelt in front of their foes, signaling surrender. The silence created by the end of the battle had allowed a new noise to be heard.
It was now obvious to everyone that there was some sort of loud argument going on inside the carriage. The curtains convulsed, and loud cursing was heard.
Finally, the curtains were drawn aside, and Sendrek shouted out “We surrender!” Minon shouted at almost the same time, “Never!”
The priest pulled out a dagger from his belt and stabbed his King in the heart. Everyone watched, too stunned to move. Minon stained his fingers in the flood, then looked up at the sky purposefully.
“Radix totus malum est monastica!” Minon shouted out the incomprehensible nonsense, and the sky turned dark and the ground trembled. “Now, you will see, my friends,” Minon screamed and started to cackle. “Now, you see.”
Chapter Seventeen
As Minon laughed, his body changed shape. He became taller and thinner, his proportions becoming almost comical in nature. His arms and fingers were long and spindly. His head was large, and his teeth were yellowed and jutted out of his jaw. His clothes seemed to only partially comply with his growth, and stretched and partially shredded themselves upon him. The sky grew darker, and the thunderstorm began to brew.
A single guard, spear in hand, raised up his iron pike to attack Minon. As he was about to make contact, a lighting bolt defended from the sky and sizzled him. Minon laughed as the man slumped to the ground and the other guards started to back away from him.
Minon hopped down from the carriage with surprising dexterity. He grabbed at the retreating soldiers with his long arms, and with each wide swath, a powerful patch of dark energy seemed to form. Soldiers with thrown from him and lighting continued to pour from the sky, hitting the metal-clad warriors. When the unit was no more, he once again began to laugh. He was a totem pole of evil, a grim, spectral incarnation, an embodiment of all the ills conceivable. His large, spindly body was somewhere between the splinter of a nightmare and a human spider.
The soldiers of West Lowlands were in full retreat as the cleric began his rampage in earnest. Like crows running from a scarecrow, they ran as fast as they could from him. Eira turned to fight, but Zantar and Alsev pulled her away.
Zantar’s elderly frame tried as best as it could to keep pace with Eira and Alsev, but he was quickly winded. He stopped to catch his breath, and Alsev stopped, too.
“Go, go! Leave me,” Zantar pleaded.
“Never, father,” Alsev replied. Minon’s towering form was soon upon them. He scooped up the old wizard and pulled him into the air.
“I’ve waited decades for this,” Minon said in a low and guttural voice. Just then, though, Zantar reached into his wizard’s pouch and doused Minon with some strange fluid.
It appeared to have no effect, and Minon quickly pulled Zantar close. A blur of red and black ensued, and then Zantar was dropped to the ground, dead, his body as drained as the dried up victim of a spider. Alsev was stunned, unable to comprehend how to fight such a fiend. Eira pulled out her weapon, but again, Alsev headed her off.
“Eira, what are you thinking? You can’t fight him like that. Transform!” Alsev commanded his Queen.
“I…I can’t!” Eira said at last, as she and Alsev ran into the innards of the castle, Minon in hot pursuit. “I can’t just do it at will.”
“You did it this morning!” Alsev reminded her.
“Yes, but I thought you were in danger then,” she replied.
“We are all in danger right now!” Alsev exclaimed.
That was true, Eira realized. She tried to visualize Alsev in danger…but she knew it wasn’t working. What was missing?
“Alsev…this morning, it wasn’t just that we were in danger.” Before she could continue, she and Alsev made her way into a sort of armory. Ornate weapons were hung on the walls and the room smelt of leather and iron. They quickly locked and bolted a heavy door behind them.
“What do you mean, what wasn’t just the danger?” Alsev asked.
“I’m embarrassed…” Eira said, hesitating. Minon’s hands could be heard grasping at the door.
“We’re going to die in a few moments!” Alsev’s eyes shone with tears from the death of his father. “Tell me, tell me now.”
Chapter Eighteen
“You were naked,” Eira said at last. “I was…consumed with passion for you.” At this, Alsev started to remove his clothes.
Eira, although she appreciated the gesture, was simply too shocked to feel the transformation. Her father had died not an hour ago, and now, Alsev’s father, too. Her longtime mentor had literally turned into a fiend and was destroying the castle. Her reign as Queen was being marked by the destruction of the new Kingdom to which she had so recently given her allegiance. No lust would come now.
“Please,” Alsev said, “It’s our only hope.”
Eira force herself to try to drown out Minon’s frantic clawing at the door. She closed her eyes and tried to drift off into a state of pleasure. It wasn’t working.
“I have an idea,” Alsev said, a glint in his eye. He worked to pull down Eira’s armored leggings, and then her undergarments. He then proceeded to place his head between her legs.
Eira’s first response was to tense up, to consider pushing him away. Yet, as she felt him touching her, she knew she needed this. She knew that only something so radical would shake her out of her funk and get her fighting again. In a perfect paradox, only an act of love would enable her to win the act of war.
Alsev’s tongue lovingly probed and massaged her. There was a certain, unspoken thought between their minds: Even if they couldn’t stop Minon, they wanted to feel pleasure, one last time. Alsev was enjoying himself greatly, licking vigorously.
At long last, Eira’s pain melted, and she felt herself transform again. Her strength returned to her with every delicate lick of Alsev’s tongue. Her blood flowed through her veins rapidly as her pulse pounded with pleasure, and with that blood flowed the strength of the beast within.
Finally, she grasped Alsev’s head, and pressed him against her. Not content with the slow pace of things, she shook it and bucked her hips against him. Her iron thighs pressed against his ears like a vice. When Eira climaxed, she roared triumphantly, her transformation complete. She grabbed a mighty battleaxe from the wall, and undid the locks on the doors.
Minon eagerly pushed a long, spindly arm into the room, but Eira was waiting. Her axe fell on the arm with all the rage of fury, and cleaved it from him. Minon howled in pain, and the dismembered limb fell to the floor, and then shriveled into nothingness.
The half naked, half monster, warrior Queen charged into the hall and waved her axe wildly, wounding and slicing at Minon. She was quick, avoiding the grasps of his remaining arm. She made his way towards him, and was about to swing her axe directly at his head, but he let out a breath full of icy air directly at her.. She staggered, stunned, and his left arm scooped her up.
“You could have prevented this. You could have just done what you were told,” he hissed.
“You’ve manipulated me. You wanted to manipulate me, my marriage, my husband, who I pick as a husband, who I love and why and how,” she retorted as she danged in the air from his grasp.
“It’s not my fault you couldn’t see the light.” He said.
“You’re crazy. There’s never been any light in anything you’ve ever done,” she spat.
Alsev stared at Minon’s towering form, unsure of what to do. He knew this dialogue wasn’t going to continue forever, yet he didn’t know exactly how he was going to help his Queen.
Suddenly, though, he noticed the wetness on Minon’s robed, the evidence of his father’s failed attack. Why had that attack failed, he wondered? Was it possible that the attack hadn’t failed at all, that it simply needed a second step? A step he expected to be taken by his son?
His destiny as a true wizard finally set in his mind as he understood. He remembered the most important line in Zantar’s favorite war story. Alsev rushed towards the wall and grasped the torch lighting it.
“You’re at your end, Eira,” Minon said, and started to lower her towards his mouth.
“Enemy of the Kingdom, burn!” Alsev shouted, and tossed his torch onto Minon’s oil-slick clothes.
Minon erupted into a pillar of fire, his body engulfed in inferno. He dropped Eira, who fortunately avoided landing on her head on the stone cobbles. She and Alsev looked at the cleric as he disintegrated into a mass of ashes.
Epilogue
Eira and Alsev did not move for quite some time, as they sat and stared at Minon’s ashes.
“Some fighter I am,” Eira said, in a full throated voice. “You ended up saving the day.”
“If he had two arms, he would have grasped us both at once. Besides, I credit my father for this more than anyone,” Alsev responded. “What about the charm? With Minon dead, will you ever find that charm?”
Eira shook her head. Her transformation, Alsev could tell, was beginning to fade. “I will likely always have a bit of the beast within me. We all do. The question is, what do we do with it? Do we channel it towards constructive anger and a lust for what’s good in life? Or repression, manipulation, and a lust for power?”
“I love all of you, Eira. The beast and the Queen. The warrior and the lover, and every merger in between.”
They met in a tender embrace.
Ronnig chewed his fingernails as his eyes leered down onto the battlefield. The angry wind howled like a demon and the cold was so strong it bit the skin, but nothing could compare to the ravaging powers of the enemy. From his location high in the parapet, he was safe. From the looks of the conflict, though, this did not appear to be something that would last.
The King of the West Lowlands wasn’t sure if there were any commanders left to issue orders. He could see the bodies of his most trusted advisors scattered near the gates of his castle like so much debris. If Ronnig had anything left to say, there were few left to hear it.
“Ronnig! Come quickly!” The King turned, recognizing the voice of Zantar, his trusted advisor and wizard of the court.
“The battle! We have to do something!” Zantar merely shook his head, his long beard swaying comically with him.
“This is more important. It’s about your wife. She’s having complications…” Zantar stopped as he saw Ronnig’s eyes flash with pain.
By the time they reached Ronnig’s wife, she was near death. Ronnig angrily demanded that Zantar do something to save her life, and for an hour he performed both the best medical and magical care he could conjure. In the end, he held his head low with shame.
“Your highness…” The greeting was enough to let Ronnig know that the worst had come to past. The two men had known each other so long that formalities were only peccary in cases like these. “There is nothing I could do for her. But I was able to save your daughter.” Zantar presented the infant to her father, who screamed towards him and grasped and clawed at his arm. Ronnig shirked from the touch of the infant. The hate was so strong in his heart that he could admit no other feeling. “My wife died because of injuries she suffered in this attack. These bastards will not go unpunished. Zantar, we must take our leave. Let us fight them to the death!” The wizard solemnly nodded, and motioned at the guards at the entrance to the Queen’s chambers to follow him. The child was left in the room unattended, already forgotten.
The fear that had gripped Ronnig so often throughout his life had abandoned its grip when the far tighter hand of vengeance had taken hold. Ronnig’s party made it to the armory, and he donned the sword and shield of his grandfather. The weapons were relics, but he intended to die honoring his ancestors. Zantar, rather than take a weapon, took his bag of eclectic arcane tools.
The two men, flanked by the four members of the royal guard, bust into the main courtyard just as it was being overrun by enemy soldiers. For a brief moment, the enemy appeared to be completely frozen. Covered in blood and dirt, they were nonetheless clearly organized and in formation. A dozen soldiers in armor stood in front of them, while several more standing on the tipped over decorated tables and chairs spotted bows. Seeing the enemy leader right in front of them could only mean one thing: surrender.
The standstill died as Ronnig let out a bloodcurdling battle cry and starting to swing his sword madly. An order was quickly given, and a stream of arrows flew right towards the royal monarch. A strong wind blew against them at the perfect moment, and the arrows never reached their target.
Zantar quickly smashed several glass objects on the ground, and soon the air was replete with dusty, sight obscuring dark clouds. A few soldiers had the courage to charge through the smoke, but were rewarded by the sight of the billowing wizard’s cloak flying towards them. The wind carried the cloth rights towards them and fully obscured their vision, if only for a few moments. But this was all the time Zantar needed, as he quickly stuck each one of them with a dart coated in poison, and they collapsed to the floor.
The King had already blindly hacked his way through most of the archers, while the royal guards used their pikes and other pole arms to keep the remaining sword-bearing enemy soldiers at a safe distance. Zantar, now clad only in his pants and undershirt, spotted a lone archer further away aiming straight for the King. Ronnig saw the man, but far too late. As the man pulled back the string, the King knew he was finished.
At the last moment, Zantar pulled a shiny stone from his pocket and somehow blinded the archer. A guard had by this time recovered one of the bows from the fallen and shot the enemy before he could recover his vision. Barely a moment had passed before the adjoining room bust open, and a new river of soldiers poured through it.
Ronnig grasped the rusty hilt of his ancient, but still lethal blade and was about to charge into them as well when he recognized the insignia on the shields to be that of his own soldiers. The cadre’s leader, upon seeing his ruler, immediately fell to his knees.
“Your highness, thank goodness you still live. We’ve had some unexpected good fortune as of late. The fight goes on!”
And the fight did continue. Rallied by the fearless leadership of their King, the defending soldiers of the West Lowlands repelled wave after wave of invaders. After many blood soaked hours, they reached the entrances of the castle. Rivulets of oil from the parapets oozed their way down the walls and onto the ground, the blood of both sides colored the ground black and red.
The grim drum of soldier’s metal feet on the stone was soft, but certainly getting louder. More soldiers were getting ready to pour into the castle, and the ragtag group of remaining defenders was becoming too exhausted for a good fight. Zantar nervously eyed the situation, and then told the rest of the group to stand back.
“I will fight them alone,” the wizard claimed solemnly. “Get back lest you be hurt in what I plan to do.” The man’s impressive cloak and his hat were lost somewhere in the courtyard. His body was drenched in sweat and his beard was chalk full of blood and dirt. Yet, somehow he still managed to hold together his prestige. He grasped a nearby torch and started to chant as he heard the enemy approach.
The enemy arrived slowly, being careful not to fall on the slippery ground. The wizard’s dust hid Zantar from view until the area had completely filled. Finally, they noticed the wizard who had by now hoisted himself on the wall.
“Burn, enemies of the Kingdom!” The wizard yelled out as he dropped his torch, and flames erupted from the stone floor. The inferno consumed the group of soldiers and even made its way up the walls in little streams of fire. For a few minutes, the blaze burned white hot, but after that it seemed to consume itself and fade away.
The King gazed upon his friend with wonder and amazement. Zantar looked both exhausted and crazy, his beard burning slightly from wayward embers from the dying flame. Even after seeing it, Ronnig wasn’t sure he believed it.
The defenders quickly roamed the castle, gathering up other survivors. Before long, an impressive, though improvised little army had been assembled. They charged the gates to find the remaining attackers in disarray. In the distance, Ronnig could make out the form of Sendrek, King of the invaders. Beside him stood the gaunt form of his most trusted advisor Minon, the high cleric. Without much thought, Ronnig ordered all of his men towards his encampment.
Sendrek’s forces did not engage their attackers. Instead, they were simply stood frozen next to their commander. Ronnig stepped off his horse and looked at his counterpart with suspicion. He was about to unsheathe his sword when Sendrek spoke.
“I just received word that my wife has died, Ronnig. The wounds were ones she sustained from a stray arrow from your parapets. Nothing you can do to me now will ever be as great as the wound I already carry.”
“My wife too died earlier today. She suffered an injury from one of your catapults.” The two men eyed each other, each with an unquenchable rage on top of a near paralyzing pain of loss.
“The only good news is that they were able to save her child. I finally have a son, Ronnig.”
“My wife was with child also. I have a daughter now.”
“As much as I wish you dead, I have no wish to have your daughter grow up without her father.”
“Nor do I wish your son to be without you.”
“Nor do I wish any of the children of the men who have died here today to grow up without their fathers. But they will.”
“Sendrek, I have hated you ever since I have known you. Our Kingdoms have been at war for generations. The tables have turned dozens of times, even today. How do you ever suppose to cease this?” The two men hit each other with icy stares. Zantar, a few feet behind, began to sense that the good will that each man had shown wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Pardon me, but I think I have an idea,” Zantar began…
Chapter One
18 years later…
Zantar stared at the castle courtyard, his old eyes wearily taking note of how every corner was bedecked with agonizing detail. This was it, the final test of his plan. “Oh well,” he thought to himself, “if this fails, at least I’ve bought us 18 years of peace.”
“Why do you stare, father?” Zantar’s son, Alsev inquired. “Is it because you so keenly remember the great war?”
Zantar nodded, telling a half truth to the boy. “Two days before you were born, Alsev, King Ronnig and I sat on this very parapet and prepared to fight Sendrek’s forces to the death.”
Alsev touched his father’s hand in sympathy. “That’s all done with. There has been peace for nearly two decades. We are welcoming Sendrek and the Kingdom of the Eastern Lowlands as our guests now.”
“I know, my son, I know,” said Zantar. “But I can’t help but feeling uneasy. They haven’t set foot in these castle walls since we drove them out.”
Elsewhere in the castle, King Ronnig was awaiting the arrival of Sendrek with the same uneasiness. The loss of his wife still burned at him, and he half wished he could order his soldiers to strike at the convoy as soon as it entered the walls. Zantar’s plan make that impossible, of course. Not a day went by when the King did not both appreciate and despise all of the implications in that scheme. And yet, the long years of waiting were finally coming to an end…
“Father, how much longer must we wait?”
“Not long, my son, not long,” Ronnig replied. He looked down at the young man he had raised. Thorsten was short and ruddy haired, and was wearing a dark purple robe. It clung to his soft, rotund little body, displaying him as a man who had been pampered and never trained in the ways of combat. He looked nothing like Ronnig, who was tall, spindly, and once had light blonde hair.
Alsev entered the room and bowed at the prince. His slender form made him half the size of Thorsten. The two boys had been born only a few days apart, and had become fast friends. This amiability was only strengthened by the friendship of Ronnig and Zantar, but Thorsten often reminded Alsev that only one of them was a prince. Formalities such as a bow were never to be forgotten, even from his best friend.
“Excited to meet her, I gather?” Alsev asked. The wizard’s already son know that Thorsten was focused exclusively on this opportunity to meet Eira, to whom he was promised at birth to wed. What Alsev didn’t know, of course, was how eager the rest of royal family was to meet her as well. Zantar had managed to keep even his own son in the dark about the true nature of the devil’s deal he had made this day eighteen years ago.
Zantar slowly pondered the plan, still wondering if there had been any other way to guarantee the peace. He had been certain – and still was – that passions of hatred would lead West and East Lowlands to war with each other. There was but one clear way to limit the carnage: to place something so valuable in the enemy camp of each ruler that neither would dare to wage another campaign.
The trumpets sounded in the distance, and the four men knew that the moment of reckoning was almost at hand. For each man, however, this moment was couched in different circumstances. Thorsten was going to meet the woman he would one day marry, and in so doing, heal centuries of conflict between two troubled Kingdoms. Alsev was going to meet officials from East Lowlands for the first time, and perhaps begin to follow his father in the path of diplomacy. Zantar, in seeing the two sides meet, was witnessing the judgment of the ambitious and important decision he ever made.
King Ronnig was perhaps the most eager of them all. For the first time, he would be meeting his daughter face to face.
Chapter Two
“Stop tugging on it,” Eira cried as she tried to pull her hair free from Minon’s aging hands. The high cleric – in addition to being the Kingdom’s spiritual leader and the King’s top advisor – had served as a sort of nanny to the princess for the past 18 years. He had to admit, Zantar’s plan was a work of genius, but it needed to be carefully managed in order to succeed.
“I’m sorry dear, I’ll try to be gentler,” Minon responded in his usual raspy tone as he affixed small ribbons to her flowing mane. “I just want you to look perfect for Thorsten.” She did indeed look like a perfect princess. Her light brown, nearly blonde hair was delicately braided and contained numerous flowers and ribbons. Her flowing dress covered most of her skin but fit her frame fairly snugly. Her creamy skin and voluptuous body were universally admired marks of beauty and royalty, and her smile was stunning.
On this very day, eighteen years ago, Minon had witnessed his King and Ronnig hash out the details of Zantar’s plan for peace. They would both sign a treaty, and seal it with the promise that newborns Eira and Thorsten would one day be married. But just to make sure that no side tried to bolt from the deal, just to make sure that one side wouldn’t simply annul the marriage and renew the war again – the children of the two monarchs would be switched. Thorston would be raised as Ronnig’s son, and Eira would be raised by Sendrek. The two sides would only get their children back if and when the two met in marriage. Of course, this plan had to remain a complete secret from both the Kingdoms and the children themselves. Only Minon, Zantar, Sendrek and Ronnig knew the truth.
The elderly cleric had obsessed for years that some horror would befall the plan and cause everything to come to ruin. He had, of course, taken the important precautions in preparing Eira for her fate. He told her, nearly daily, that God had determined her purpose to be a peacemaker. She was divinely ordered to marry Thorsten.
The impending wedding was only the beginning in Minon’s mind. For decades he had tried to out fight and out wit Zantar, and these past 18 years were no exception. Once the wedding was over, the marriage would begin – and the war between East and West Lowlands would move to a new medium, rather than cease altogether. Each Kingdom would have to make certain concessions to ensure that the peace was lasting, and Eira and Thorston would decide these together.
The war, in Minon’s eyes, would never and could never really end. He had to make sure that West Lowlands had to bear more than its fair share of concessions. The way to do that was to ensure that the one whose sympathy was with East Lowlands controlled the marriage.
As the procession slowly made its way over the drawbridge and past the moat, Minon pondered which one it would be. He was hoping it would be Thorsten, of course. God had placed man at the head of the household, where he belongs. Should the marriage be so lucky, he was sure that Thorsten would act in his interests. Or at least he would when Minon told him of his true heritage…
Though he had never met Thorsten, Minon somehow knew that they would be kindred spirits. Eira had always had a small streak of independent spirit. That spirit had often confounded Minon and led to difficulties in her upbringing. When she was younger, she once had impersonated a young squire and completed a day of training for knighthood before anyone had noticed. Another time she snuck into the castle library and read a book on the occult, a subject that Minon had proclaimed belonged only to evil wizards like Zantar. Just as all fathers have some difficulties in managing their daughters, all husbands have difficulties managing their wives, Minon thought. In this desire, he knew that Thorsten and he would be of one mind.
The procession of the carriage came to a sudden stop, and Eira quickly pushed aside the curtains, eager to see her husband to be. All around her, foreign soldiers were busy giving salutes and blaring into trumpets. A rug was lade before her feat, and she and Minon quickly exited the carriage.
It wasn’t long before Eira spotted a throne, and saw Ronnig sitting before it. Ronnig, vilified in the East Lowlands, seemed older and feebler than she had imagined. By his wizard looking robes, Eira deduced that it must be Zantar at his side.
To the side stood two young men, one of which Eira intuitively and immediately knew was Thorsten. He smiled at her, and she felt her destiny calling. Minon had been right – she was born to marry this man.
Eira curtseyed before King Ronnig, who simply stared at her for a great while before saying anything. After a great moment of hesitation, he beckoned her to come forward. Eira complied, but kept her eyes on the two young men.
“My child,” the King began at last, “I would like you to meet your future husband, Thorsten.” With this, Thorsten walked toward Eira and leaned down to kiss her hand.
Chapter Three
The first thing Eira thought when Thorsten stepped forwards to greet her was surprise. She was so sure that the taller of the two men was Thorsten – this boy was his squire, or his assistant. It was the other boy with whom she had felt the immediate connection, and yet he was not Thorsten.
She barely registered his kiss on her hand and glanced over his shoulder. “This other boy must be Zantar’s son”, she thought to herself.
Eira eyed Thorsten with suspicion. His short frame, ruddy hair, and smug grin reminded her of her father, Sendrek.
“Pleased to meet you, my princess,” said Thorsten with the understanding that she would respond in kind.
“Pleased to meet you as well, my prince.” Eira repeated her courtesy, but this time her heart was not in it.
“We welcome the Kingdom of East Lowlands, and invite all of our guests to attend the royal ball we will be holding this evening,” Ronnig said, concluding the brief evening. Thorsten and the other young man were quickly parted from Eira, and Minon was pulling her back towards the carriage.
Zantar viewed the short encounter with a healthy suspicion. He wasn’t quite sure if things ought to have gone quite like this – perhaps an extended meeting would have been better. First impressions were often difficult to dislodge, and with several hours between now and the ball…
The old wizard tried to put dismaying possibilities out of his mind. This had gone well, all things considered. Soldiers of East and West Lowlands had met in a show of friendship and unity for the first time in over 100 years. Down the courtyard behind him, Zantar could hear Thorsten and Alsev eagerly chatting about Eira.
“Amazing, wasn’t she?” Thorsten gushed. “I’ve never seen a finer specimen of gentle feminine beauty!”
“I’d agree with that,” Alsev replied, eagerly nodding. Thorsten shot him a jealous look.
“Don’t get any ideas. I’m the prince – she’s betrothed to me.” The fact that Thorsten even needed to say this was a tacit acknowledgement of the constant rivalry between the two boys. Alsev was unfazed by the declaration, and from the moment he laid eyes on Eira he was fixing to find some time to get her alone with him – preferably before the ball this evening.
Thorsten was already thinking several hours in advance. He had his pocket mirror out and was trying to adjust his hair and was practicing smiling. Alsev loudly scoffed, and Thorsten responded by giving him a friendly punch in the arm.
“I’m off to become handsome for my princess, Alsev. You certainly don’t need to look handsome for anyone,” Thorsten taunted. Alsev didn’t respond, his eager mind already thinking of plans.
“Yeah, you do that, Thorsten. See you in a few hours.” Alsev studied the carriage were Eira would presumably remain until the ball. He surmised that only she and that priestly looking old man were in it. It would be easy to get rid of someone like him, but there were four guards surrounding the carriage as well.
As he formulated his plan, a few twinges of doubt entered his mind. Why was he doing this? A petty rivalry with a friend? Jealousy at the high station and privileges of a prince? These motives were always sufficient for simple pranks, but Alsev realized he was about do something quite serious.
Then he remembered Eira’s smile. She had smiled right at him. Thorsten was too self absorbed to notice, but he felt her gaze upon him. He felt a power compelling him to do this, Thorsten and the Kingdom be damned.
Alsev reluctantly tore himself from the front courtyard and made his way to the stables, looking for a particular young boy who was always fascinated with his magic tricks. He spotted him almost immediately, and whispered to him the details of his little scheme.
“Do this for me, and I’ll show you how I do the disappearing frog magic,” Alsev concluded. “You’ll be the envy of all your brothers,” Alsev added, and caused the young boy to grin with glee.
A few minutes later, the young boy scampered towards the carriage. The East Lowland guards immediately stopped him, but as he was seized and carried off, he shouted out “Evil spirits! Evil spirits in the wishing well! Warn the princess!” At this, Minon poked his narrow head out from the carriage curtains.
“Evil spirits, you say, boy?” Minon quickly pulled himself out of the carriage, thinking that an ambush might be in the works. He knew Zantar…always trying to get the edge. Not this time.
Minon instructed the guards not to let anyone but himself back into the carriage, and he hurried off with the boy to inspect the tainted well. Before they had left the carriage completely, however, the boy pulled a small flash from his pouch and tossed it into the convoy. Minon, who struggled to gain a good balance in his ornate religious garb, failed to notice.
Eira, who had rolled her eyes at the concept of a haunted well, heard the dull thump of the flask immediately. She picked it up off of the carpeted floor and saw that it was empty, save for a note tucked inside.
“Wave your handkerchief,” said the message without any explanation or identifying mark. Not that it needed one. After studying it for a moment, Eira felt sure who it was from. The note was asking for an identifying mark, a signal to show that she was willing to have a meeting. Whomever had sent it – almost certainly Zantar’s son – had also been responsible for getting rid of Minon. The son of wizard had his father’s wits, she thought. She peeked her head out of the carriage and let her handkerchief wave in the wind like a flag for a few moments.
A few minutes later, a blast of purple smoke erupted from one of the northernmost parapets. Minon, who had finished inspecting the well and found it to be free of evil spirits, saw the explosion from the opposite end of the courtyard. He knew that smoke: it was one of Banter’s signature weapons. He rushed past the boy as fast as he could and made his way back to the carriage.
Alsev had made a gamble – that not only did Eira share his feelings of love at first sight – but also that she was smart enough to understand what the note meant. It meant he wanted a meeting, and that she would not yelp in surprise at his impending entrance.
Chapter Four
After Minon had carefully inspected the castle walls and found no trace of any sinister plot by Zantar, he returned to the courtyard, intending to check to see if Eira was shaken. Instead, however, he found himself face to face with Thorsten, who by now was dressed in his finest royal garb.
“Minon, a word with you,” Thorsten began, and the cleric complied. “You were once arch enemies with Zantar, right?”
Minon nodded. “We were the right hand men of the two respective Kings, young prince. Of course we were enemies.”
“Then, I was wondering…well you see, Zantar’s son, Alsev, is one of my friends…but I never tire of finding new ways to torment him. You know, in a friendly way…anyway, do you know anything about Zantar that would embarrass him, bother him, about his father?”
Thorsten’s query took full possession of his mind, and Minon quickly forgot all about checking on Eira. “Sit down, my boy,” Minon began. “I do indeed have some stories to tell…”
As Thorsten was receiving his fill in scandalous – but mostly false – stories about Zantar, Alsev was quietly exiting the carriage. Aided by the darkening sky and the general downturn of interest in the convoy from the East Lowlands, Alsev was able to slip out undetected.
Eira, meanwhile, was all alone with her thoughts. Alsev had a single message for her: think about it. She and Alsev had felt an immediate, mutual attraction upon seeing each other. Alsev’s dangerous and daring scheme to see her before the ball had only increased that feeling for Eira. He was willing to risk for her, and she liked that.
Being raised by Sendrek and Minon, however, had instilled a little of the manipulator in her. How could she – even for the most nondescript reasons – delay her marriage with Thorsten without inflaming political and nationalistic passions? She knew that she was either to marry Thorsten before her visit was out or perhaps take him with her to be married in her castle after this visit was concluded. The latter option, taking more time, would undoubtedly be best – and she could probably get Minon and Sendrek to push for it, given that they’d see it as a sign of strength that the marriage would be sealed in their Kingdom.
These thoughts, far from comforting her, left her feeling guilty and ashamed. How could she even contemplate such risky actions based on a girlish attraction? And yet, she had to remind herself, she had just been admiring Alsev for being willing to take such risks.
Eira quickly made up her mind: She would spend some time trying to get to know Thorsten, to give him a chance to prove himself to her. If he really was the man she was meant to be with, she would come to know it. If not, she would continue to pursue things with Alsev.
It wasn’t so bad. Alsev, after all, was still part of the West Lowlands. In fact, owing to Zantar’s close relationship with the King, Alsev was practically born into royalty. Assuming that Ronnig and Thorsten weren’t too disappointed, a potential marriage between herself and Alsev could still serve to soothe tensions between the two Kingdoms.
This thought taking full possession of her mind, Eira prepared for the ball. After it was over, she thought, everything would become clearer.
Chapter Five
“You look ravishing, my Princess,” Thorsten said as he leaned towards Eira and kissed her hand. Eira wished she could repay the compliment in kind.
Instead, she merely replied, “If you say so, my Prince.”
Thorsten nodded slightly and licked his lips. “You have a figure fit for a Goddess. A gentle complexion, and hips perfect for…” Thorsten stopped himself for a moment. “Perfect for baring me many sons, I can only hope.”
In a simple sense, these remarks were compliments, and Eira blushed slightly to hear them. She was used to receiving compliments on her looks, but had always assumed that they carried some ulterior motive, usually to curry favor with her father. If she had been born ugly, no one would have dared speak it out loud, and that fear constantly haunted her. Thorsten, despite his princely upbringing, seemed too uncouth to make compliments in that fashion. She knew his affections were genuine.
And yet…something about them rang hollow. Thorsten’s words and looks remaindered her of a hunter, looking at a tender piece of game. He acted as though she was merely the best that he could hope to satisfy his lust and his desire for many children, a desire which he repeated many times throughout the evening.
As the evening progressed, Eira found Thorsten to chalk full of tragicomic absurdities. He insisted on refilling her punch glass for her, and yet tripped and spilt it upon her dress upon returning. He dogmatically insisted that he lead during each dance, and he continuously stepped upon her toes. With no battle stories to call his own, he took to telling stories of dangerous hunting expeditions – stories which, given that Eira had actually been hunting while she tried to be a squire – were not just obviously false, but felt almost like an insult upon her intellect.
Thorsten managed to be both overly energetic and boorish, both light humored and unfunny, and both conceited and insecure. At one point, she even caught him standing on his tip toes to try to equalize the difference in their heights. Eira was so much taller that this made no difference. Thorsten’s short stature didn’t really bother her, but his aversion to admitting of it felt both silly and somewhat shaming. She was proud of her height, and it felt wrong to have Thorsten see it as only a detriment to his hopeless pursuit of feeling tall.
In short, Thorsten was everything that Eira had dreaded, and was in several ways considerably worse. She continuously cast her eyes into the crowd, hoping to spot Alsev. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.
After due course, the ball began to come to an end. Both Kings made short proclamations about friendship and peace, and Eira and Thorsten exchanged kisses on the cheek. Soon, she headed back to the courtyard, and Minon was waiting for her.
“Well, my dear? What do you think of him?” Minon asked once they were safely in the carriage, staring at her intently.
“What do you think of him?” Eira responded, trying to hedge her bets.
“After speaking with him at great length this afternoon, I have the upmost confidence in him. He seems like a fine man, and a perfect husband for you,” Minon spoke proudly.
Eira, almost unsure that they were conversing about the same person, didn’t say anything for a moment. “What did you two discuss?” She asked as innocently as possible.
“We talked about old war stories, mainly. He wanted to know if there was another side to the story about Zantar, other than the whole ‘Honorable and trusted friend of the King,’ bit. You know, his son probably set off those smoke devices earlier today. I can’t believe the incivility of something like that at a time like this. But Thorsten…a man ready to be King if there ever was one. Honest, eager, ambitious…he will rule well, mark my words.” While Minon prattled, he studied Eira’s reaction. She seemed confused and upset.
“Of course, I completely concur,” Eira said at last. “We will wed and rule justly, I am sure.”
Minon noted her phraseology – the “we” – and thought to himself that she wouldn’t be ruling at all. Thorsten’s greatest quality he had neglected to mention – he was exceedingly gullible and malleable. He was a perfect puppet for a man like himself. Still, he wasn’t satisfied that Eira was as smitten with him as she was. “Do wish me to see to is, then, that the wedding will be as soon as possible?” Minon pressed.
“Actually, Minon, I wanted to talk with you about that. I want to take Thorsten with us after this is over. If we marry in our castle, it sends a signal – it shows our half of the lowlands to be the one with the power,” Eira said.
Minon considered this answer for a moment. It was evasive and had the effect of delaying the wedding considerably – exactly the response he would expect if in fact Thorsten was not to her liking. Still, he couldn’t help admit that she was right in what she said, and he had to concur.
“You are correct, my dear, of course. We will arrange to take Thorsten with us on our return journey.”
Chapter Six
Eira had done all she could to delay her marriage to Thorsten, but she knew that at best, that wedding was a little less than two weeks away. Her stay in the West Lowlands would be over in a few days, and with it, her chances of getting close to Alsev.
She had already made up her mind about Thorsten – she could never be a truly happy woman while married to him. Yet she knew that disrupting her marriage to him had the possibility to create chaos and strife. Though Alsev was as good a second choice as was conceivably possible, she knew that several important people would be greatly upset, Minon and King Ronnig among them.
The irrational part of her – the part she had received from her fiery father – wanted to say the hell with them, and marry whoever she wished. The very idea that she was born into matrimony with such as man as Thorsten felt like an insult. The honor of her duty of peace seemed to pale when she allowed herself to wallow in the anger and frustration of her expected role.
The calculating part of her – the part instilled by Minon – knew she had to approach this from a value perspective. Yes, upsetting the balance of power and rejecting her arranged matrimony would undoubtedly cause some degree of chaos and uncertainty. The question then needed to be, was Alsev worth it? Would he truly make such a better husband for her as to be worth potentially starting a war?
It was a high hurdle for any man to clear. Alsev had shown himself to be brave, attractive, and charismatic, but he hadn’t had the opportunity to show her any other qualities.
She decided that she needed to invest some effort into knowing Alsev better. In the meantime, she’d keep up the pretense that she planned to go with the wedding to Thorsten as planned. No need to ruffle any feathers prematurely.
The next time she was to see Alsev was a royal brunch the next morning. She, her father, and Minon had been invited to dine with King Ronnig, Zantar, and Alsev.
The meal itself went rather uneventfully. The adults seemed more interested in hammering out the details of new trade agreements and other aspects of the new alliance and almost seemed to ignore Alsev, Eira, and Thorsten. After the meal was over, Alsev left the table and hoisted himself on one of the taller parapets overlooking the dining hall. Thorsten exited as well, eager to join Alsev on his high perch, but being so much shorter, lacked the reach.
“Do you need a hand?” Alsev asked his friend.
“I don’t need any help from you,” Thorsten spat, and continued, unsuccessfully, to try to pull himself onto the parapet. Thorsten tried to get some footing by placing his weight on a stone archway of one of the several doors adjoining the room.
“Thorsten, don’t. You could…” Alsev’s sentence was cut off as Thorsten completely lost his center of gravity. His leg slipped off of the archway, and he plummeted nearly 10 feet. He landed on his hip, greeting the floor with a scream accompanied by a sickening crunch.
To Eira’s surprise, the first two people from the table to run to his side were Minon and her father. Ronnig and Zantar stood back, both shaking their heads in what looked like disgust. Perhaps they had grown used to Thorsten having frequent accidents, and thus were less concerned.
Sendrek, though, seemed positively startled. “See that he’s given what he needs,” the King instructed Minon, who helped carry him to the castle infirmary. Zantar and Ronnig followed closely behind, leaving Alsev and Eira alone in the dining hall.
Chapter Seven
Eira and Alsev exchanged glances as their families took Thorsten to the medical ward. They said nothing for several moments, content with merely gazing into each others eyes. Eira took a deep breath, filled with nervousness. She tried her best to ready her scattered mind and find something, anything to say.
Before she had the opportunity, though, footsteps signaling return echoed through the passageways leading to the dining hall.
“Is Thorsten going to be alright?” Eira asked.
“He’ll recover, but he won’t be walking around for a while,” Minon replied curtly.
“May I see him?” Eira queried.
“Well…I suppose a little moral support wouldn’t do his recovery any harm. Come this way,” Minon motioned.
“I’m coming too,” Alsev hastily added. Minon scowled at him, but said nothing.
Despite all of the commotion throughout the castle and the many guards outside the medical ward, Thorsten’s bedchamber in it was small and private. Eira and Alsev looked down at Thorsten, tossing and turning in his sleep.
Minon grossly misunderstood Eira’s intentions, and closed the door to the small room, leaving the three alone.
Eira and Alsev, at first, spoke few words and spoke them softly, fearing that they might awaken Thorsten from his heavy slumber. The prince’s sleep, however, proved uninterruptable, and soon they were talking with all the ease that they would normally assume had they had some real privacy. The sleeping prince was all but forgotten.
As the hours passed, Eira became enchanted with the wizard’s son. Unlike Minon and her father, Alsev had less faith in loyalty and dogma and more faith in reason and liberty. He explained to her his belief that a marriage, by itself, could never truly heal the deep wounds between two such troubled Kingdoms. He seemed kind, modest, thoughtful, and wise. What was more, she felt from him neither condescension nor deference. He would be, she decided, a true partner in ruling. A man like Thorsten would relegate her to merely a figurehead, too proud to let anyone help him make a decision.
Alsev was similarly enraptured by this beautiful woman. He saw in her everything that he had ever wanted in a wife – someone who could both appreciate the words he had to offer and be strong and decisive in her own right. Eira was someone who shone with regality and had the fire of an independent spirit. He was utterly convinced that a simple and traditional man like Thorsten would be thoroughly incapable of appreciating her.
Of course, there was another, simpler element to this budding relationship than intellectual admiration. Eira and Alsev were hopelessly attracted to each other. From the moment they set eyes on each other, there was an internal spark. From the shape of their bodies, to the sounds of their voices, to their very scents…they were intoxicated with each other.
This feeling of lusty excitement seemed to grow stronger and stronger as the conversation wore on. Eventually, their fingers began to brush each others. Their bodies moved imperceptibly closer together. Finally, after a poignant silence in the conversation, they leaned in together and shared a kiss. Eira’s arms slowly wrapped around Alsev’s tall, thin body, and the two melted in the embrace.
Just at that moment, the door to room swung open. Eira and Alsev quickly parted, but it was too late: Minon had seen then, and he let out a bloodcurdling shriek. He charged towards Eira in a blind rage.
“You filthy whore! You fiend!” Minon shouted and slapped Eira hard across the face. Alsev quickly pushed the cleric back, and Minon responded by kicking and scratching at him. Minon’s long nails dug into Alsev’s neck and shoulders, and Eira saw little droplets of blood. She screamed and started pounding on Minon’s back, ordering him to let Alsev go.
Thorsten, who was by now wide awake but hadn’t seen any of the ill-fated kiss, watched the struggle play out with eager indifference. He punched the air, while hooting out slogans like “Get ‘em” to no one in particular. All the commotion had roused the suspicion of the guards, and they quickly stepped into the room and pulled the quarrelling parties apart. Without offering an explanation, he grabbed Eira and pulled her out of the medical ward. She continued to struggle, but less this time: she knew that she could have little say in what was likely in store for her.
Chapter Eight
“Explain yourself,” Minon demanded in his raspy voice after he had finished dragging Eira into the carriage. “And please explain quickly.”
“I am in love with Alsev, and he and I are to be married.” Eira spoke the remarks with a bitter, determined defiance.
“You miserable fool…how could you…how could you expect Ronnig would ever agree to this! You’ll ruin everything. You are going to betray everything you were ever born to do…”
“Minon, I do not love Thorsten. I simply cannot marry him. Besides, Alsev believes that this marriage, by itself, just doesn’t have the power to irrecoverably banishing this constant struggle between our two Kingdoms.” Eira’s remark was simply ignored, as Minon spent the better part of her sentence nosily gasping for air with which to yell more.
“Thorsten is a perfect husband and a King. You told me so just yesterday. What could he possibly lack in your eyes?” Minon demanded
“Thorsten lacks intellect.”
“He merely doesn’t concern himself with the unimportant.”
“Thorsten lacks humility.”
“No man who wishes to be King can afford to have low self worth.”
“Thorsten lacks appreciation for who I am.”
“He values you for exactly who you are: a woman who must marry him to save a Kingdom.”
“Thorsten lacks…handsomeness and charm.” Eira mentioned it last for a reason. If it was Thorsten’s only handicap, she could imagine adjusting to it. The fact that it was one of so many made it much harder to do so.
“Oh, so we at last come to the crux of the matter,” Minon said sardonically. “I should have known, with you being so young, you would be unable to put duty ahead of the temptations of sin.”
“Just because I’m not attracted to Thorsten doesn’t mean I’m a sinner!” Eira insisted.
“Oh, but you are willing to jeopardize eighteen years of peace because Alsev is so much prettier? That’s a sin, my dear. You shamed yourself and your family by sinning with Alsev. You’re nothing but a whore, a monster.” Minon spoke these remarks with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm. “Do you understand me?”
“I do not and I will not. And this isn’t your decision to make. I’m the princess. I will marry who I please.”
Minon cackled at this. “Who do you plan to appeal to? Ronnig? Sendrek? The two Kings who bet the salvation of their lands on your marriage to Thorsten will have none of this. You know that whatever your wishes, you must bow to duty.”
“I’ll die before you, or my father, or anyone forces me to marry Thorsten.” Eira said the remarks with wounded, righteous anger. She had felt violated by Minon’s interruption, and since then, by his shaming. She almost felt compelled to say what she needed to say in the way that would make Minon as upset as possible.
Minon, meanwhile, was silently thinking that if Eira made an appeal to Ronnig, he would likely listen. He know that Ronnig was, of course, was Eira’s real father. He would never let her be unhappy, and he certainly wouldn’t abide by a peace agreement bought through his daughter’s suffering.
Trying to force Eira into the marriage against her will carried the possibility of everything that he had worked so hard for disintegrating. Worse, he knew that Zantar and Alsev were more than capable of causing some kind of destabilizing incident, possibly at the wedding itself.
No, Minon finally decided, he was going to need convince Eira to marry Thorsten of her own accord. She was not willing to listen to reason, only to her own sinful impulses. He needed to make her feel utter abhorrence of these sinful impulses. How he was to do this, though, was an enigma. She certainly didn’t seem to be open to verbal persuasion…
“I don’t know what you are thinking, Minon, and I don’t want to know. What I do know is that I will be happy with Alsev, not with Thorsten. Nothing you can say or do will change that.” Eira waited for a response, but only was greeted with a sickly smile from Minon.
“Nothing I can do eh?” Minon let out a long, dry, foreboding cackle. “Well, then, I suppose that you and I are at an impasse. So let’s compromise. I will let you continue to see Alsev. I’ll even help you secure some genuine privacy. Spend some time getting to know him, see if you really believe…if you really believe you will be happy with him. If you continue to believe that is so, then the Kingdom be damned. If you’ve changed your mind about the importance of respecting duty and abhorring your…monstrous sin, then you will marry Thorsten as planned.”
Eira was shocked, and suspicious. Minon was conceding far too much. “What do you want from me in return for all of this?” she asked with skepticism.
“I want you to give me your word that you will discuss all of this with no one. Not Thorsten, not Ronnig, not your father. If you reconsider, it would be best if you and I were the only ones that knew of these happenings.”
Eira nodded, believing the bargain to be fair. “I give you my word.”
“Then we are at an agreement, my dear. And…I wish to apologize for my earlier behavior. I was angered and started…I didn’t mean everything I said.” Minon held out his arms to Eira, begging an embrace.
Eira, somewhat reluctantly, put herself in Minon’s hug. He slowly rocked her back and forth, whispering something incomprehensible as he did so. As Eira started to pull back, Minon produced something from his robes.
“I have a gift for you…to show you my sympathies are always with you.” Minon said slowly. He showed Eira a small, metallic charm with several sharp edges. The little trinket resembled a metal crescent moon.
“What is it?” Eira asked innocently.
“It’s to show you how much I love you…let me give it to you.” Minon pushed the trinket into her Eira’s right hand. He grasped her palm with both hands and pressed it hard, digging the small metal spikes on the charm into her flesh. Eira screamed and tried to pull away, but Minon held her hand firm and pressed the charm deeper into her hand.
Finally, Eira wrenched herself free from Minon’s grip and pulled the silver moonlike object out of her hand. It was now wet with blood. “I don’t know what kind of sick practical joke this is, Minon, but I don’t find this amusing. Keep your gifts to yourself,” she said, as she flung the charm into the ground. Minon did not respond, merely greeting her with an eerie, quivering smile.
Chapter Nine
That night, Eira experienced a restless, nightmare-filled sleep. Her sleeping mind drifted to thoughts of war, carnage, and death. She awoke drenched in a cold sweat more than once, out of breath and incredibly itchy and uncomfortable in her nightgown. She scraped her skin so raw with her nails, causing near-bleeding on a few patches of skin. By the next morning, Eira was more drained and exhausted than before she went to bed.
She didn’t see Minon all morning, but one of the guards outside her carriage delivered her a note that bore his signature. It said “South Stables, Noon,” but although it bore Minon’s signature, the two words didn’t seem like Minon’s handwriting. She rummaged through her belongings, eager to find note she had received from Alsev earlier. Sure enough, the writing matched.
After a few moments of thought, she realized what this probably meant. Minon was making good on his promise to try and find her and Alsev some privacy to figure out their situation. She was mildly surprised. What could his motive possibly be? He had given in far too easily last night. She knew that he was always trying to get his way. The man never stopped until he achieved what he wanted.
Eira knew that noon would arrive before she knew it, and so she put Minon out of her mind and focused on what she would wear for Alsev. She settled on something she thought nobody would miss if it was soiled in a place as filthy as a stable. She would have preferred dancing with Alsev at the ball, decked her finest, but she knew that Minon was probably the only one who was going to help her and Alsev get privacy. If a stable was their only abode, than they would make it their palace.
It wasn’t immediately obvious why the stables were chosen when she arrived. Alsev, who was waiting for her, quickly explained.
“I talked with your friend Minon this morning about what happened yesterday. He thinks he’s given us some privacy so I can explain why we are all wrong for each other. I told him this stable would be a perfect backdrop, a beautiful metaphor. You, as a princess, don’t belong in a place like this, just as you don’t belong with a person like me. What he doesn’t know is that I chose this location because, if you want, we can take two of these horses and ride out of here.” Eira, suddenly enchanted with the notion of riding away somewhere with Alsev, didn’t bother explaining her own episode with Minon.
“Where would we go, Alsev?” She asked, wide eyed.
“Anywhere you want to you, my lady.” Alsev spoke the words coolly, and Eira’s heart melted. Implicit in that simple sentence were so many wonderful truths. It contained grace, charm, adventure, and a willingness to put her needs and wishes into the decision.
She stepped forwards, and enveloped him in a tight embrace. After such a tumultuous experience at this castle, she was eager to leave, and increasingly, with him. She could feel his warm breath on her ear, and felt herself becoming progressively more and more excited about his proposal for a new life.
But was it that? Eira suddenly pulled back, needing clarification. “How long would we be gone for, Alsev?”
He scratched his head. “Well, for a few hours. We do want to get back before they start missing us at the dinner tonight, right?”
Eira’s heart sank. She had misinterpreted him after all.
“What, how long would you like to leave for?” Alsev asked the question so innocently that Eira couldn’t keep herself from blurting out what she really felt.
“Forever!” Eira felt her face flush with embarrassment.
“But…what about you being queen, and making sure that our Kingdoms don’t go to war?” Alsev spoke these words slowly, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Alsev, I want you and only you. I know you are the one that I’m meant to be with. I’ll do anything if it means we can be together.”
Alsev wasn’t sure what to believe. Catching the princess’s eye for a few moments seemed doable. But was it really his destiny to leave everything he had ever known? To betray his best friend? Perhaps even become King? As he marveled at his own fortune and Eira’s beauty, his doubts faded away. If they decided that they wanted something, then they’d have it. Nothing would get in their way.
He leaned forwards and slowly stroked Eira’s face. They soon began to kiss eagerly and hungrily. Eira wrapped her arms around Alsev and gripped him tightly. As they began to kiss deeper and faster, she felt her grip on him grow stronger. Alsev eventually broke this kiss, panting and out of breath.
The two made their way to a little corner of the stables, clean and isolated. Hay wasn’t the most comfortable substance, but it would do.
Alsev pushed Eira against the cobblestone wall and kissed her gently as he leaned his body against hers. She moaned through the kiss and ran her fingers through his hair. She could feel herself becoming aroused, but she also seemed to be feeling something else…
Alsev, meanwhile, wasn’t completely carried away in the moment. Dual concerns over being caught in a compromising situation and making Eira feel uncomfortable by doing too much battled in his mind. He hesitated, and tried to pull back.
Eira, however, suddenly felt a surge of sexual aggression. She reached her arms around the retreating Alsev and pulled him back towards her. She pressed her face up against his and started to kiss him again. She put one hand around his back, pinning his body to her, and one hand on his head, pressing it against her own.
Alsev could feel her tongue probing his mouth deeply and could feel the gnashing of her teeth against his. She gripped his hair and held him in place so tightly that it hurt. At first he was surprised and a bit frightened, but those feelings quickly faded as arousal usurped them.
Eira didn’t know what had come over her, but she liked it. She pulled Alsev’s body around and switched their roles by pressing him against the wall. She continued to kiss him as she ground her body against his.
Eventually, Eira broke the kiss. She placed her mouth at Alsev’s ear and let out a feral growl. “I want you,” she said in a low voice. “Now.”
Alsev started to protest that this was neither the time nor the place, but didn’t get the chance. Eira hoisted him into the air and lay him down on one of the bails of hay. Alsev was surprised she could so easily lift him, but enjoyed it nonetheless. He was more startled, however, at the sight of Eira’s arm. It was large and muscular, and strained her top.
As he lay on the hay, he got a good look at Eira. Up until this point, they had been kissing with their eyes closed and in a relatively dark area. He hadn’t had a really good chance to look at her.
Now he did, and he didn’t know what to make of it. Eira’s body had become significantly more muscular. Her clothes now stretched to cover her chiseled, strapping body. Her face bore a greedy glint, and as she smiled, he could see that her teeth were sharper. Her hair had become darker and increased in volume. Even her skin seemed to be a strange color.
Eira jumped on top of Alsev and resumed their kiss. Alsev, still in disbelief, ran his hands across her arms to make sure they really were as he had seen them. They were, and as he felt those hard biceps he could feel himself becoming hard. Alsev lay their passively, not sure what frightened him more: the fact that his princess seemed to be transforming into some kind of monster, or the fact that he was enjoying it. Eira didn’t notice anything. She pinned Alsev down, and arched her back. She let out a guttural moan and shook her head wildly, her hair falling into her face.
It was then that Eira noticed that her hair was dark. She gazed at the unfamiliar tresses in confusion. It was then that she noticed the little wound she had sustained yesterday when Minon thrust the metal charm into her hand had not healed. In fact, it seemed to be glowing bright red.
Fear briefly coursed through her veins as she stared at the glowing wound. It was vaguely moon shaped, like the charm. As she stared, though, it seemed to fade away.
Eira examined her hair again. It was dirty blonde, as always. Had she imagined the entire thing?
Alsev, meanwhile, was lying under her, incredulous. He had seen his princess transform from woman to monster, and now back again before his eyes.
“Eira? What’s going on?” Alsev asked in a tight, frightened voice.
Chapter Ten
“I…don’t know, Alsev.” Eira suddenly thought about the fact that she had pinned Alsev to the stable floor and had been, a few minutes ago, grinding her body against his. Had she really been that bold? That crazed with lust? It seemed unthinkable now, but perfectly natural just a short while ago…
The red wound on her hand seemed like it had to be a clue. Perhaps Minon might be able to held her understand what it was.
Then it hit her. Of course Minon would be able to know what it was – Minon was the cause of it. She was sure that somehow this was a kind of practical joke, a way to expressing his disapproval of Alsev.
“Alsev, I have to go. Stay here. I have to do something.” Without waiting for a reply, Eira quickly ran out of the stables and back around the castle the front courtyard. She felt hurt and embarrassed, and bitterly angry that Minon had tried to poison her romantic encounter with Alsev. She had been so close to abandoning it all and riding into the sunset with him – and yet now she, once again, would have to consult Minon.
She found him in the carriage with an evil glint in his eye and a dark smile.
“Well, well. You seem awfully upset over something. Care to discuss?”
“What is this,” demanded Eira as she shoved her injured hand into Minon’s face, “some kind of joke?”
“It’s the mark of the beast,” Minon began. “It’s an illustration of your…perversions and sins.”
“What have you done to me?” Eira said, now yelling.
“I’ve fixed things so your body will be as ugly as your mind, that’s all. I’ve created an incentive for you against your lusty desires.”
Eira sat, stunned, still not believing or understanding what she was hearing. Minon continued, talking quickly and excitedly.
“You told me you were attracted to Alsev, but not Thorsten. That means that Alsev will…shall we say…bring out the worst in you, while Thorsten will bring out the best. I’ve fixed things so that you’ll never feel that Alsev will make you happy. Your temptation to ruin your future has been tempered.”
As Minon preached his hateful sermon, tears rolled down Eira’s round cheeks. She felt pain and betrayal, but mostly a sense of sadness that Minon was probably right: Alsev and she could never be together.
As she contemplated what Minon had done to her, though, her pain faded to rage. “I’ll get even with you,” she screamed. “You just wait. This isn’t over.” She stormed out of the carriage and out onto the cobblestones of the courtyard. It had begun to rain, but that didn’t stop her from running back to where she had left Alsev as fast as her legs would carry her.
Alsev was where she had instructed him to wait, though she knew that they couldn’t stay there long. The rain meant everyone would soon return to the castle. She and Alsev quickly found and entered through a door on the southern side without saying a word to each other.
Chapter Eleven
Eira explained her predicament to Alsev as calmly as she could. Alsev simply nodded, not knowing what was appropriate to say. Finally, after she was finished, she made her request known.
“Alsev, the only person I believe we can safely talk to about this is your father.”
Of course, Alsev had already considered this. But he didn’t want his father to get involved. He knew that his legacy had been diplomacy, not wizardry. Why would his father help him destroy everything he had worked so hard to achieve?
Unless…unless he didn’t let his father know was really going on.
~
“And you have no idea why Minon would do this?” Zantar asked as he examined Eira’s hand wound.
“No idea, sir.” Eira replied.
“Well…it appears to be a bewitching signet imprint. There’s nothing I could do to help you unless I got a look at the signet itself.” Eira remembered a the charm that Minon had used to inflict the wound.
“I don’t have it. But I think I know where I can get it.”
“This is a serious matter, Eira. Get it. I’ll wait here for your return.”
Eira got up to leave, and Alsev was about to follow her.
“Son, you stay here. We need to talk,” Zantar said grimly. After Eira exited the room, Zantar started to yell. “So, when were you going to tell me about your little escapade with the Princess?”
Alsev, stunned, did not reply.
“Oh, I had a hunch from the moment I saw her that you’d take a fancy to her, yet seeing you two together, you almost seem like Minon did this to stop you from having your way with her!”
“Father, that is why he did it,” Alsev admitted.
Zantar was taken aback. “So you really intend to destroy my legacy. To destroy 18 years of hard won peace…”
“Father, we are in love. I’ve always tried to befriend Thorsten, but surely you must know he’s not fit for a princess like her.”
“My boy, that’s not your decision to make. They were promised to each other at birth, you know. The two Kingdoms must be joined!”
“Father, the tension in the air is so thick that men like Minon are just itching to go to war. Marriage cannot guarantee peace,” Alsev countered.
“Of course not, but East and West must meet, Alsev.”
“And they will meet. Am I not from the West?”
At this, Zantar hung his head low. “Yes, Alsev, you are. But so is she.”
“Father, what are you talking about? Eira is Sendrek’s daughter.”
“No, Alsev, no she is not. She is Ronnig’s daughter. Thorsten is Sendrek’s child.”
Alsev sank to the ground at this revelation, his mind reeling. “So that’s why…that’s the secret to this whole plan. You knew that neither man could possibly start a war if that war would make their own child the enemy…you knew they’d want the peace to last until they cold be reunited with their child.”
“Yes, Alsev. And that is why you have to fix this situation with Eira. You know as well as I do that Minon and Sendrek will go to war if the new rulers are both from the West.”
Alsev nodded, solemnly. “Yes father, I know what I have to do.
Chapter Twelve
Eira was unable to locate Minon despite hours of searching, nor could she find the charm that had sliced into her hand. While most of the important people in the castle had been out in the countryside, they had received word of a plague outbreak, and it had been advised that for the next few days, everyone hide themselves away to avoid the spread. Eira found that people would literally flee her presence, lest they be the ones to spread infection to her. Minon had disappeared, and she knew that even if she could find him, it was highly unlikely she would get the charm back.
Eira tried to contact her father in case he knew Minon’s whereabouts, yet she was quickly made aware that he was refusing to see her as well. After several hours of toiling in futility, she returned to Alsev’s quarters.
She was surprised to find Zantar absent. “I couldn’t find the charm,” Eira said.
“My father didn’t think you would. If Minon really wants to curse you, he’ll find a way to hide that thing from you forever.”
Forever. The word felt like a knife in her gut.
“Eira…there’s more.” Alsev proceeded to tell her about how his father had arranged for her and Thorsten to switch places as babies.
Eira soaked it all in, somehow knowing that this was the only real explanation for how things must have come to be. Why else did Thorsten look so much like her father? Or, rather, the man that was supposed to be her father?
“So, you see Eira, we can never be together. Never.”
The words sank into her like poison. This hurt more than any curse Minon could have ever uttered. It burned worse than any shame she had borne and felt more constricting than any corset she had ever been forced into. Not that she could blame him.
“I understand, Alsev.” Eira quickly exited Alsev’s quarters without saying goodbye. Eira didn’t understand. She had arrived at the castle hopeful and eager to serve out her duties as a princess. Yet over the past few days, she had become aware at the lengths men like Minon and Zantar would go towards ensuring she had no choice in this. She was angry and wanted to be defiant. In a flurry of passion, it seemed as though Alsev was ready to be defiant as well. And now, this little revelation changes everything? It seemed too simple. Then, it hit her. She ran back to Alsev’s room and burst it open. He was surprised and only partially dressed.
“Alsev, you don’t have to lie to me. I know why you are changing your mind on us.”
“Eira, what are you talking about?” Alsev fidgeted as he struggled to pull on the rest of his sleepwear.
“You know very well. It’s this curse. I don’t blame you for finding it hard to love a monster. But don’t pretend you are in this for the Kingdom’s sake. A few hours ago, we were ready to throw all that away.”
“Eira, how can you say that! Look, the truth is that after talking with my father, seeing him talk about his hard work…I don’t want to ruin everything that he has dedicated his life to. And I know now why he was so committed to the idea of the marriage between you and Thorsten.”
“Don’t patronize me, Alsev. I know you must have found me repulsive.” Eira suddenly realized that, although she was aware of her transformation, she had not seem it directly herself. “What…exactly, did I look like?”
“You weren’t a monster. You were strong…powerful…” At this, Alsev walked forwards. He traced his hands up and down her arms.
Eira was startled. The way he used those words seemed more like a compliment, rather than an insult. “But, Alsev, I must have acted monstrous…”
He shook his head. “No. You were aggressive, eager, dominating…” He found the descriptions almost coming out of his mouth against his will. He had made up his mind – they couldn’t be together. And yet, talking about her transformation was making him want her more than ever. His hands were playing with Eira’s hair.
Eira inspected her hand and could see the wound start to glow again. She could feel herself tingling with Alsev’s touch and knew the transformation was going to happen again.
“Alsev…you have to stop.” He quickly complied. “We need to think about this, about the Kingdom, about my freedom from this curse.”
“I was foolish,” Alsev implored, his gaze fixated upon Eira and his emotions taking full control of him, “to Hell with the Kingdom. I want you.”
“You can have me,” Eira said breathlessly, “but when we find Minon’s signet charm and destroy it.”
“Why wait?” Alsev asked eagerly.
“Alsev…you don’t know what it feels like to be under this curse. I can’t really believe you could love me like this…and I don’t know what I’m capable of doing to you.”
“But, I’m not afraid. I need you. Now.”
Eira could feel herself get warmer just through this talk. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel the transformation beginning. Her arms and legs shook with energy and her lusty desires welled up inside of her. “Alsev…I just want to be prefect for you. I want you to have just what you want. I want to give you just what you need.” She looked at him with a pleading look in her eyes.
Alsev moved closer and pressed his lips against hers. She met the kiss with a kind of contentment. He really did want her, curse and all. Even as he held her body tight and controlled the kiss, she couldn’t help but imagine this to be a submissive gesture. He was willingly giving himself over to her, to her bestial nature. He was eagerly accepting his fate. He was sending as signal – he was all hers.
On this thought, her mind pounced.
Chapter Thirteen
Eira felt her princess mind fade away into the kiss. Alsev, she knew, was both the son of a wizard and a healthy, red-blooded young man. But Eira was no longer a princess. Every prohibition, every political and religious duty, every obstacle to her own personal pleasure and satisfaction came crashing down in her mind. She was no longer Eira the betrothed, she was Eira the beast.
She quickly took charge of the kiss, thrusting her tongue as deep into Alsev’s mouth as it would go. She took several steps forwards and pinned his back against the stone wall. She ground her body up against his and kissed him with ferocity and gnashing of teeth.
Alsev was merely clinging to her for dear life. He, though startled, was once again enjoying every minute of it. This time, though, he knew what was going on. He had understood it, made peace with it, and even invited it upon himself.
Eira fumbled with Alsev’s sleep robes. With one powerful yank of her now muscular arms, she tore a huge swath from its front. She stopped the kiss and hoisted him up into the air. When his waist was in line with her mouth, she used her teeth to pull down his underwear.
She could feel her own clothes starting to give way as her transformation rapidly accelerated. Her dress was pulling itself to shreds, unable to support her larger frame. Her wider shoulders had pulled her dress in two, revealing her large breasts sitting proudly on her now muscular and chiseled chest. Her arm sleeves burst open, revealing powerful biceps, and her new powerful legs utterly destroyed her tights. She was all but naked as she lifted Alsev onto his bed and used her new strength to pin him there.
Alsev ran his hands over Eira’s new body. He traced the lines of her powerful muscles and felt himself salivating. Her new darker hair was a feral main, falling into her face. He could feel that hair fall into his face as well as she crawled on top of him and stared at him.
Eira was, objectively, more than human. But she wasn’t just a monster, at least according to Alsev. He also saw in her a Valkyrie warrior angel. She was majestic in her strength, beautiful in her ferocity, and loving in her aggressive lustfulness. In her altered face, he saw the anger that she bore to the world, the fierce desire she had to live her own life for her own desires, and paradoxically the tenderness she inexplicably developed under the care of men like Sendrek and Minon. She was a Goddess to him, a Queen. He both loved her and lusted for her with every fiber of his being.
She looked down at Alsev with the hunger of starving wolf gazing at a lame deer. Eira pulled her body onto his, possessing him, taking in him in, dominating him, and making their two bodies one.
Alsev rand his hands up and down her powerful body as she rocked herself back and forth. His fingernails etched themselves into her back as her teeth tasted his shoulder. They both growled and cried out in passion as their animal desires completely overtook them. It was quickly over for both of them, their climaxes hitting early and hard.
After, Eira spooned Alsev, her large, powerful body nestling and protecting his. She gently stroked and cuddled with her lover, and the two slept.
Chapter Fourteen
When the two lovers awoke, it was to the sound of the rooster announcing the dawn. Faint rays of light came into a parapet overlooking the room, and Eira and Alsev held each other in calm satiation. Eira was back to her fully human form, just as beautiful but in a different way to Alsev. They kissed, and enjoyed a few moments of bliss before their world was utterly destroyed.
There was the clink of metal feet against the stone floor. Then, the door to Alsev’s room creaked and crashed as it was literally torn from its hinges. Before either of them had time to react, the room was quickly flooded with guards bearing the East Lowlands insignia on their chests. They were quickly followed by Minon, and then by Sendrek.
“I told you, your highness. I told you the wizard was not to be trusted,” Minon intoned. Sendrek said nothing. “This was their plan all along,” the cleric continued, “To pair up two from the West Lowlands together. To win the war through treachery and trick diplomacy.”
Alsev looked up at the guards, half-fearing that they would kill him for “defiling” their princess. But they did nothing. Finally, Sendrek spoke.
“You are no daughter of mine. You never have been, and you never will be.” With this, he walked towards their bed, and spat on his daughter. He and Minon then left the room. As they did, Minon casually spoke to the head of the guards.
“Kill the boy, but keep Eira alive. I’ll see to her myself later.” he said, without a trace of regret or pain in his voice.
“No!” Eira shrieked out. She quickly pushed her half-naked form in front of Alsev’s. “Don’t! Please!” She saw the leader slowly pull out his sword as Minon and Sendrek walked out into the corridor. The guard captain walked towards the two, slowly and with deliberation. He put a gauntleted hand on Eira’s bare form and shoved her aside.
The princess struggled to push back as Alsev cowered as close to the wall as he could. The other guards remained stationary, allowing their captain to carry out his orders.
Eira pushed and pulled with all her might, but all she succeeded in doing was pushing the captain off balance. She knew that within seconds, her love would be dead. She summoned all of her strength and changed up against the captain, her soft, fleshy form making little impact on his chainmail vest.
“I order you, stop!” Eira cried out, but the guard threw her against the hard wall. Eira, feeling nearly helpless and defeated, suddenly realized what she had to do. She closed her eyes and remembered her passion last night. She remembered the pain she had felt when Minon had stabbed her with the charm. She ran her fingers over the indentations of the wound in her hand and remembered all the pain and restrictions of her upbringing. Then, she remembered the liberation she had felt when she had rebelled against it and the power she had gained from lust.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Alsev being pushed down, and the guard’s arm raised, ready to plunge the sword into him. She felt herself start to change, and she remembered how it had been she who had pushed Alsev down onto the same bed the night before. Her strength swelled within her, and she lunged at the guard.
This time, her weight and her strength were enough to stagger the captain. His downwards thrust missed Alsev, instead hitting the bed and shredding a large slice of it. Feathers flew everywhere, and for a moment, confusion reigned. Alsev saw the other guards startled by Eira’s sudden transformation, and they began to reach for their weapons. Alsev knew he had just one chance, and reached under his bed for his secret weapon.
Eira had grasped the guard captain’s neck. She was in the process of smashing his head against the wall as a wave of purple smoke filled the room. She knew Alsev had done it, and she hoped he would try to escape, with our without her.
“Alsev, go!” She growled out into the fog. “I won’t leave without you,” she heard him cry out. “Go, now! That is not a request!” She heard the scamper of unclothed feet against the stone, and knew he had gone.
Eira let go of the neck of the now unconscious captain, and reached for his fallen sword. She roared into the fog and swung wildly. Her long arms gave her and advantage over her foes, and she pushed them back with broad strokes. As the fog cleared, she started to see the guards pulling back and running in fear. She hoped they wouldn’t catch up to Alsev.
Chapter Fifteen
Alsev was running as fast as his legs would carry him towards his father’s room. When he had awoken him, Alsev explained the bad news.
“I have failed you, father. I have destroyed everything you have worked for.” Alsev bowed before the old wizard, expecting the worst.
“ What, exactly, have you done, my boy?” Zantar asked inquisitively. After a few moments of heavy silence, Alsev told him everything.
Zantar absorbed the information with a surprisingly calm demeanor. After his son was finished, he sat for a moment quietly and pondered the chain of events.
“So, the war is on now, then,” Zantar remarked.
Alsev nodded. “Yes, that’s likely.”
“Then, my boy, you are in luck, for I have no time to address anything you have done. We are needed in the ramparts of the battle.” Zantar and his son got dressed, with Alsev donning one of his father’s robes and a special brown pouch containing some of his father’s best magical supplies.
“Eira.” Alsev said at last. “We have to go back for her.”
“You go back for her, I must see to the King,” Zantar replied. “Meet me in the King’s chambers.”
They both took off running as fast as they could in opposite directions. Alsev made it back to his quarters quickly. He saw the back of one of the guards, and took his wizard staff (borrowed from his father,) and jabbed him in the back of the knees.
The guard fell, but cried out in a woman’s voice. Alsev rushed around into the room, to find that his “guard,” had been Eira trying to equip herself with a set of East Lowlands armor.
“Alsev,” she cried out as she struggled to pull herself from the floor and embrace him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know…with the armor.” She shook her head, and embraced him tightly. “
We have to stop Minon, I don’t know what he will do,” Alsev said quickly.
“I do,” Eira said. “When this captain came to, I questioned him on what he knows. Minon’s told everyone everything about us. He’s saying Zantar planned all along to take the power away from the East and keep it in the hands of the west. Alsev, our castle is under siege.”
Alsev was struck by these words, particularly the last sentence. “Our castle?” he said
“Yes, us, the West Lowlands, that is the Kingdom of my birth, the only Kingdom to which I will ever be welcome, the Kingdom to whom I am now loyal,” she said.
“Why the armor, then?” Alsev asked dumbly.
“You wizards, always darting about. Alsev, if I’m going to fight, I’m going to need protection, this armor was the only one available. “
“You mean to fight on the front lines?” he asked again incredulously.
“Of course, but you must not,” she chastised. “I can’t keep up my morale unless I know for sure you’re safe.”
“But my father needs me,” Alsev said, “besides, why must you fight? You’re the princess!”
“Who cares about your father!” Eira spat. “You should care about what I want, and I want you out of harm’s way! And what’s this about me being the princess, so I can’t fight!?! You sound like Minon with that talk.”
The remark stung. Of course, Eira was referring to Minon the manipulator, and Minon the religious upholder of every archaic tradition, not Minon the curse wielder nor Minon the murderer. But all possible means of identifying the evil man hit Alsev, and he turned away.
“You do what you wish, then,” said Alsev, with great pain in his voice.
“I didn’t mean that,” Eira quickly said. “My anger…I just feel so out of control. I spoke without thinking. I’m sorry.” She quickly pulled him to her embrace.
“Someone needs to help defend our Kingdom,” Alsev said.
“We will both do it. We will fight together, side by side, and defeat Minon once and for all,” Eira proposed. Alsev agreed, and the two made their way to Ronnig’s chambers.
Chapter Sixteen
When they arrived at the King’s chambers, they found Zantar furiously trying to give medical care to Ronnig, who lay upon his bed. He had been gazing out at the battle, as he had so many years before, but this time, a lucky archer had seen him and had hit him in the chest.
“It is only fair that I die like this,” Ronnig said slowly. “I can’t wait to be reunited with my wife.”
“You won’t die, your highness, not on my watch,” Zantar said, but it was obvious that the wizard thought otherwise.
“Who’s at the door?” Ronnig asked. The two walked towards the fallen King slowly.
“My daughter, my daughter…” he said with great pain. “Come closer.” Eira moved towards her true father’s side, and he did his best to embrace her.
“I’m sorry that I never had the chance to know you as a child. Please know that I loved you from afar. I had hoped to become you father again once you were Queen, but I fear I will not see that day, though I know it will come soon. I love you, my child…” The King paused, and turned his head. “Alsev, I believe you might have something to say to me?”
Alsev deeply bowed and knelt before his King. “Sir, your highness…” he paused, knowing full well what he needed to say but momentarily lacking the courage. “May I have the honor of having your daughter’s hand in marriage?”
The King placed his hand on Alsev’s hair, and patted his head. “If it be my daughter’s wish, your request is granted. You will make a fine, fine, King, my boy.” With those remarks, the King breathed out his last breath, and was no more.
Zantar spoke his final respects to his King in an ancient wizarding language. Then, he said something that surprised everyone.
“Eira, by the fact of your father’s passing, I hereby recognize you as the Queen and ruler of the land of the West Lowlands.”
“What has become of Thorsten?” The new Queen asked.
“Before he died, King Ronnig told me that Minon had told him everything, and that he now swears his loyalty to the East.”
Alsev shook his head. “I should have known.”
“What else do we know?” Queen Eira pressed Zantar.
“Well, we know that they’ve taken us by surprise, but they have a smaller force than we do. Without doubt, more forces are on the way, but if we can fight off what they have here now, we will continue to have a numerical advantage.”
“Take us to the battlefield,” Eira said.
“With all due respect, your highness,” Zantar began, “We just lost one ruler of our land that way. We need you to remain in safety.”
“Zantar, I don’t intend to observe this battle; I intend to fight it. I’m going to the courtyard, without you, or without you,” Eira said defiantly. Zantar reluctantly acquiesced, and the three made their way to the battlefield.
By the time the three had made it to the courtyard, however, the battle appeared almost won for the forces of the West Lowlands. The enemy forces were cornered, pressed up into the last vestiges of the castle, just as Zantar had remembered then nearly 20 years ago.
Without the battle going so well, Alsev’s safety was not in question, and thus, it was more difficult for Eira to summon up her strength. She was awkward in the heavy chainmail, and kept mainly to the sidelines of the fight.
Even Zantar was barely needed. The soldiers of the West, although surprised, had an overwhelming numerical advantage. Before the three had even had a chance to really join the fight, it was clearly over. A handful of soldiers were guarding Eira’s carriage, but everywhere else seemed secure.
As the carriage became surrounded, the last enemy soldiers guarding it dropped their weapons and knelt in front of their foes, signaling surrender. The silence created by the end of the battle had allowed a new noise to be heard.
It was now obvious to everyone that there was some sort of loud argument going on inside the carriage. The curtains convulsed, and loud cursing was heard.
Finally, the curtains were drawn aside, and Sendrek shouted out “We surrender!” Minon shouted at almost the same time, “Never!”
The priest pulled out a dagger from his belt and stabbed his King in the heart. Everyone watched, too stunned to move. Minon stained his fingers in the flood, then looked up at the sky purposefully.
“Radix totus malum est monastica!” Minon shouted out the incomprehensible nonsense, and the sky turned dark and the ground trembled. “Now, you will see, my friends,” Minon screamed and started to cackle. “Now, you see.”
Chapter Seventeen
As Minon laughed, his body changed shape. He became taller and thinner, his proportions becoming almost comical in nature. His arms and fingers were long and spindly. His head was large, and his teeth were yellowed and jutted out of his jaw. His clothes seemed to only partially comply with his growth, and stretched and partially shredded themselves upon him. The sky grew darker, and the thunderstorm began to brew.
A single guard, spear in hand, raised up his iron pike to attack Minon. As he was about to make contact, a lighting bolt defended from the sky and sizzled him. Minon laughed as the man slumped to the ground and the other guards started to back away from him.
Minon hopped down from the carriage with surprising dexterity. He grabbed at the retreating soldiers with his long arms, and with each wide swath, a powerful patch of dark energy seemed to form. Soldiers with thrown from him and lighting continued to pour from the sky, hitting the metal-clad warriors. When the unit was no more, he once again began to laugh. He was a totem pole of evil, a grim, spectral incarnation, an embodiment of all the ills conceivable. His large, spindly body was somewhere between the splinter of a nightmare and a human spider.
The soldiers of West Lowlands were in full retreat as the cleric began his rampage in earnest. Like crows running from a scarecrow, they ran as fast as they could from him. Eira turned to fight, but Zantar and Alsev pulled her away.
Zantar’s elderly frame tried as best as it could to keep pace with Eira and Alsev, but he was quickly winded. He stopped to catch his breath, and Alsev stopped, too.
“Go, go! Leave me,” Zantar pleaded.
“Never, father,” Alsev replied. Minon’s towering form was soon upon them. He scooped up the old wizard and pulled him into the air.
“I’ve waited decades for this,” Minon said in a low and guttural voice. Just then, though, Zantar reached into his wizard’s pouch and doused Minon with some strange fluid.
It appeared to have no effect, and Minon quickly pulled Zantar close. A blur of red and black ensued, and then Zantar was dropped to the ground, dead, his body as drained as the dried up victim of a spider. Alsev was stunned, unable to comprehend how to fight such a fiend. Eira pulled out her weapon, but again, Alsev headed her off.
“Eira, what are you thinking? You can’t fight him like that. Transform!” Alsev commanded his Queen.
“I…I can’t!” Eira said at last, as she and Alsev ran into the innards of the castle, Minon in hot pursuit. “I can’t just do it at will.”
“You did it this morning!” Alsev reminded her.
“Yes, but I thought you were in danger then,” she replied.
“We are all in danger right now!” Alsev exclaimed.
That was true, Eira realized. She tried to visualize Alsev in danger…but she knew it wasn’t working. What was missing?
“Alsev…this morning, it wasn’t just that we were in danger.” Before she could continue, she and Alsev made her way into a sort of armory. Ornate weapons were hung on the walls and the room smelt of leather and iron. They quickly locked and bolted a heavy door behind them.
“What do you mean, what wasn’t just the danger?” Alsev asked.
“I’m embarrassed…” Eira said, hesitating. Minon’s hands could be heard grasping at the door.
“We’re going to die in a few moments!” Alsev’s eyes shone with tears from the death of his father. “Tell me, tell me now.”
Chapter Eighteen
“You were naked,” Eira said at last. “I was…consumed with passion for you.” At this, Alsev started to remove his clothes.
Eira, although she appreciated the gesture, was simply too shocked to feel the transformation. Her father had died not an hour ago, and now, Alsev’s father, too. Her longtime mentor had literally turned into a fiend and was destroying the castle. Her reign as Queen was being marked by the destruction of the new Kingdom to which she had so recently given her allegiance. No lust would come now.
“Please,” Alsev said, “It’s our only hope.”
Eira force herself to try to drown out Minon’s frantic clawing at the door. She closed her eyes and tried to drift off into a state of pleasure. It wasn’t working.
“I have an idea,” Alsev said, a glint in his eye. He worked to pull down Eira’s armored leggings, and then her undergarments. He then proceeded to place his head between her legs.
Eira’s first response was to tense up, to consider pushing him away. Yet, as she felt him touching her, she knew she needed this. She knew that only something so radical would shake her out of her funk and get her fighting again. In a perfect paradox, only an act of love would enable her to win the act of war.
Alsev’s tongue lovingly probed and massaged her. There was a certain, unspoken thought between their minds: Even if they couldn’t stop Minon, they wanted to feel pleasure, one last time. Alsev was enjoying himself greatly, licking vigorously.
At long last, Eira’s pain melted, and she felt herself transform again. Her strength returned to her with every delicate lick of Alsev’s tongue. Her blood flowed through her veins rapidly as her pulse pounded with pleasure, and with that blood flowed the strength of the beast within.
Finally, she grasped Alsev’s head, and pressed him against her. Not content with the slow pace of things, she shook it and bucked her hips against him. Her iron thighs pressed against his ears like a vice. When Eira climaxed, she roared triumphantly, her transformation complete. She grabbed a mighty battleaxe from the wall, and undid the locks on the doors.
Minon eagerly pushed a long, spindly arm into the room, but Eira was waiting. Her axe fell on the arm with all the rage of fury, and cleaved it from him. Minon howled in pain, and the dismembered limb fell to the floor, and then shriveled into nothingness.
The half naked, half monster, warrior Queen charged into the hall and waved her axe wildly, wounding and slicing at Minon. She was quick, avoiding the grasps of his remaining arm. She made his way towards him, and was about to swing her axe directly at his head, but he let out a breath full of icy air directly at her.. She staggered, stunned, and his left arm scooped her up.
“You could have prevented this. You could have just done what you were told,” he hissed.
“You’ve manipulated me. You wanted to manipulate me, my marriage, my husband, who I pick as a husband, who I love and why and how,” she retorted as she danged in the air from his grasp.
“It’s not my fault you couldn’t see the light.” He said.
“You’re crazy. There’s never been any light in anything you’ve ever done,” she spat.
Alsev stared at Minon’s towering form, unsure of what to do. He knew this dialogue wasn’t going to continue forever, yet he didn’t know exactly how he was going to help his Queen.
Suddenly, though, he noticed the wetness on Minon’s robed, the evidence of his father’s failed attack. Why had that attack failed, he wondered? Was it possible that the attack hadn’t failed at all, that it simply needed a second step? A step he expected to be taken by his son?
His destiny as a true wizard finally set in his mind as he understood. He remembered the most important line in Zantar’s favorite war story. Alsev rushed towards the wall and grasped the torch lighting it.
“You’re at your end, Eira,” Minon said, and started to lower her towards his mouth.
“Enemy of the Kingdom, burn!” Alsev shouted, and tossed his torch onto Minon’s oil-slick clothes.
Minon erupted into a pillar of fire, his body engulfed in inferno. He dropped Eira, who fortunately avoided landing on her head on the stone cobbles. She and Alsev looked at the cleric as he disintegrated into a mass of ashes.
Epilogue
Eira and Alsev did not move for quite some time, as they sat and stared at Minon’s ashes.
“Some fighter I am,” Eira said, in a full throated voice. “You ended up saving the day.”
“If he had two arms, he would have grasped us both at once. Besides, I credit my father for this more than anyone,” Alsev responded. “What about the charm? With Minon dead, will you ever find that charm?”
Eira shook her head. Her transformation, Alsev could tell, was beginning to fade. “I will likely always have a bit of the beast within me. We all do. The question is, what do we do with it? Do we channel it towards constructive anger and a lust for what’s good in life? Or repression, manipulation, and a lust for power?”
“I love all of you, Eira. The beast and the Queen. The warrior and the lover, and every merger in between.”
They met in a tender embrace.