The Mad Queen

Chapter Fifty-Nine

I am standing in the throne room. It takes a few moments for me to take everything in. It is different, but I can't see how. The throne is as it has always been. The golden tree rising up one wall with the branches and leaves hanging spectacularly and intricately along the ceiling. The smooth, grey marble floors and walls are all the same. As are the pillars and windows. I walk up to the staircase which leads up to the throne. It then clicks why it is different.

The person on the Throne is not my grandfather. He is a man who I've only ever seen photos of. My Grandfather, King Orion. He died not long after my father took the throne with my mother as the Queen Victorious. No one knows why. Some say he was so devastated at all his daughter's deaths and my mother's pain, that his body could not cope and his heart gave out. I don't hold much respect for him. If he wanted his daughters to live that much, he should not have kept the contract of the True Trial hidden from them and given them a chance to save each other.

He looks to be in his mid-forties. His hair is dark brown and cut neatly around his face. Dark are his brown eyes and fair is his skin. He isn't massively handsome, but he isn't bad looking either. He just seems oddly normal. 

The door opens and four young girls run in. My eyes fall on my mother immediately. My throat dries and I feel tears begin to prickle in my eyes. She is young. About eleven years old I would guess. She shares the same curly, rich ginger hair that Cordelia has. Her eyes are a soft, light brown and her smile is wide as she and her sisters run up to the throne and hug their father. I can't take my eyes off her. I was only three when she died. I do not remember her hugging me or giving me a kiss. I don't really remember her face. I only know what she looks like from the paintings of her. As King Orion embraces his daughters, I feel myself wanting to fall to the ground and sob. They are so happy and he laughs with joy before giving them each a big kiss on their foreheads. We never had a relationship like that with our father. He was so distant with us and too proud to even let us that close to his throne.

"Now girls, we have a new young man coming to stay with us in the palace," he begins.

"Another one?" one of my aunts asks with a huff. My hands shake as I see the girls and I try my hardest not to cry as my mind swirls with questions.

What would it be like now if there wasn't a Queen's Trial? What would my aunties be like? Would we have had cousins to play with? Would they have loved us and spoiled us when our mother wasn't looking? So many questions of what our family could have been like. But as I look at these young women now I am filled with devastation. They are all dead. They are all forgotten. No one cares about the losing princesses. They served their purpose. They were unworthy.

No one even cares about our mother. She did her duty. Sort of. She provided heirs, but she never gave a healthy son. For that, both she and my father are to blame. But she is gone and all attention is on the five of us and the next wave of loss that is to fall upon our family.

Everyone envies being a Dulavelle. We are powerful. The blood of gods flows through our veins. Yet our family is so broken. Generation after generation is torn apart. Perhaps, we are cursed. Perhaps, even if Illyana succeeds, we are destined to always suffer. A price for our power.

I wake up, startled and gasping for breath. I look down at my hands. They shake as I take deep, nervous breaths. My eyes widen and I let out a little scream. My veins are glowing the same gold as the stone we touched. I watch as the glowing light in my body seems to move toward my left hand. It gathers in my hand before twirling around my index finger. I watch in complete amazement as a ring begins to form. The glowing light turning to metal and the golden stone forming in the centre. It glows for a few moments before the glowing light disappears. I just stare at the ring on my finger. It is beautiful. It is gold and twists like vines and covered in tiny, intricate little leaves or swirls. The vines wrap around a diamond that sparkles even in this dim light. I gulp and place my other hand on it. I try to remove it. It doesn't move. I let out a confused sob of sorts and try again.