VANESSA

There were times, not many, where I wished the crown had skipped me and passed to my brother. I could have enjoyed all the benefits of royalty while shrugging all responsibilities of a heavy crown.

The rose-pink curtains fluttered in the wind that blew in from the open windows. Sunlight streamed in through the glass and glistened on the rose-gold walls of my bedchambers.

I peered at my reflection in the mirror. The rose-gold crown sank into my sun-touched hair and whispered soft complements to my pale skin and green eyes. My eyes narrowed at the sight of the crown and my face scrunched up like a piece of parchment balled in someone's palm. The golden crown felt more weighty by the hour.

"You're brooding, Vanessa." Westin said through a sigh. The faintest hint of annoyance laced his tone. He was the spitting image of me: eyes like dark emeralds, long curly hair that boasted a lovely shade of dark blond. But our most striking similarity was our excessive love for theatrics. Executions hosted by either of us always attracted the biggest crowds.

"You'd be brooding too, had this crown fell on your head and spared mine." I shot, giving him a look.

Westin laughed. "I barely escaped that burden. We were born at the same hour, but the Shrine decided you a better fit for sovereignty. They said I had "demons" in me, damn Druids." A small laugh escaped Westin's mouth. 

"Well, lucky you!" I snarled at my brother, my lips curled up in resentment to reveal gritted teeth. "I cannot wait for the day when I can retire this crown to Will. I just want to be rid of it." I breathed in and then let out a depressing exhale. "Although it breaks my heart to have to pass this burden to my children."

Westin gave me a sympathetic frown. "Come to your senses, Nessa! You have so much to thank your crown for. It isn't all that bad." He walked to the window and leaned on the frame, peering out over the city of Carleone. "The Sovereign of Soren is the richest and most powerful person in all of Bellayden. Your throne is not a jagged one, it's quite cosy."

I marched towards my brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. I could feel the cool breeze from the window caressing my stone-cold face. "There is rebellion in the south." I hissed. Rage trembled my voice. "I am not able to focus on the amenities of my crown when armies are clawing at my throne."

My eyes found Westin's. They were calming seas. "Let them claw." He gave me an encouraging smile that cut like a knife. "Because they can't reach. And while they're arms are outstretched, we can cut off their hands. We are Revelians, we've held our throne for thousands of years. What's a few more?"

When Westin spoke of our great house, his eyes burned with fiery pride. He often spoke about how we were descendants of House Thaelarius; how the old magic runs strong in our veins. Those words didn't stir well with me. Magic was always a vocation of Westin. I could only get simple spells to work. I never had the desire to try to aim for the more advanced ones.

"It's not that simple this time around," I moaned. The sound of despair sang in bitter harmony with my voice. "Lord Michaelis was my Blademaster. Now he is rotting in Hastwick dungeons. And House Marteen has raised banners with the Hastwicks."

By the wide-eyed look my brother gave me, I could tell the last piece of news troubled him as it had me.

"What?" His voice was a faint murmur. It was almost unhearable over the already-quiet breeze outside. His eyelids pulled back and his lip twitched.

If he didn't know before, he was certainly scared now. House Marteen had armies so big that they spilled out of most cities like an overflowing wine glass. But that wasn't what troubled me the most. What troubled me was a rumour that has been spreading through the Golden Palace like blazing flames through a birch forest. Even my Spymaster was unable to say for certain the validity of these whispers. Perhaps, I thought. Perhaps my Spellmaster would be able to give me better council on the matter. And at that moment, I felt it a good time to ask. But I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer. I took in a deep breath and I felt myself trembling like a leaf. The cool gusts from the window felt like they could blow me away. My legs felt weak.

"Westin," I began. "I need to ask you something. Something about the battle." Hesitation clung to each word. My brother gave me a concerned look, slightly squinting his eyes at me. He obviously picked up on how nervous I was.

But then he gave me a grin and said, "Nessa, I wasn't there."

"There were purple flames at the battle!" I blurted, the words just spilled out of my mouth. My brother stared at me with an unblinking gaze. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth pressed into a straight line.

"Are you certain?" His voice was hard and cold; I did not recognize it.

"I am not." I said. "But I need the counsel of my Spellmaster. What magics do we face?" In truth, I was not even sure that it was magic. I've heard of alchemists who can conjure flames of many colours with different chemicals. But the thought that it was magic had dug its way into my stomach and sat there like a brick. All the mages of Soren were either pledged to the Shrine or the Crown. The Hastwicks or Marteens should not command any.

The door swung open before my brother could respond. Behind the door were my two children, the lights of my life. They were both dressed in fine garments; Eloise in a silky dress of deep purple and William in purple tunic with fine gold lacing. Eloise looked exactly like me. She had flowing brown hair and forest green eyes. Magic ran well in her. She was a true Revelian. Westin always said she was born for the crown. She was only eight years into this world, but Westin was sure she would make an exceptional mage. "She'll be the Spellmaster after me, if the crown falls to her brother", he'd often say. It would always make Eloise blush when he'd say that.

William, on the other hand, took more after his father, Edwyn. His jawline looked as if the Gods themselves had chiselled it. He had smooth skin that shone in the sun and his smile cut just as well as his blade. His eyes were bright amber gemstones that fit perfectly in his handsomely cut blond hair. At fourteen years of age, he was the burning desire of every girl at court. It was he who spoke first.

"My lord, my queen," He began. My lips curved into a frown, as they always did when he addressed me as such. I was his mother before his queen. "The Larouxs have arrived."

I gawked at him and my eyes scrunched up. "Then why are the prince and princess not there to greet them? Could a guard not have been sent in your stead?"

William blushed. "Sorry, my queen. We saw the approaching banners from our window and thought to tell you on the way down."

"Just go." I pinched the bridge of my nose and waved them away dismissively. "Westin and I will be down in but a few moments." And with that, the two kids scurried off. Their footsteps clapped on the marble floors of the hall and echoed on the golden walls. After they had left, I turned back to my brother and looked at him expectedly. I waited for him to give me his thoughts on the purple flames. But he didn't. His eyes did not find mine.

"We should follow," Westin declared. His voice was stern. "It would be rude to keep them waiting."

Before I could respond, he was already one foot out the door. I watched him leave, but did not follow. After he was gone, I let out a sad squeal and collapsed onto my bed. When my head hit the thick rose-pink sheets, my crown rolled off my head and struck the floor with a thud. It felt good to have it off, even for a few seconds. I was spread across the spreads, my arms and legs spilling over the sides of the bed. My head rested comfy on the edge. I felt myself sink into the ocean of softness my bed provided. It was so easy to drown- to let myself slip away from all the queenly responsibilities.

"Your grace, Princess Eloise sent me to fetch you. The Larouxs are nigh at our doorstep."

I snapped upright and saw a woman in glistening rose-gold armour. At her waist was a sword with a rose-gold hilt. The pommel was a rose carved from the same material. It was the commander of Carleone's armies, Lady Ava Haresse.

"Why is it that only high-standing people are sent to fetch me? Why not a footman, or a squire?" I shook my head as I reached for my crown. I sounded playfully annoyed. My hand felt around the floor until my fingers brushed up against the cool gold. I fixed it on my head and stood up.

"The Princess said it had to be me. She said that it would bug you." Ava said with a goofy grin.

I rolled my eyes. "That girl's as clever as she is mischievous."

"She takes after you, your grace."

A smile broke on my face despite myself. "We should be off. Escort me to the gates so I can meet the Larouxs."

"Of course, your grace." Ava said very formally. "Shall I get a footman or squire?"

I peered at her, her face was beaming and she was holding back laughter.

"Don't test me." I cautioned.

I made my way down the halls, Lady Haresse trailed behind me. Her armour clanked as she walked and an echo answered each footstep. As we walked, I glanced at all the paintings lining the rose-gold walls. They depicted our ancestors in beautiful, expensive oil paints and dated back over a thousand years ago. All the kings and queens of Soren were immortalised in these walls; from myself all the way back to Arthur Thaelarius the First. I was never fond of these halls. The paintings always seemed to be watching, it was like their eyes came alive. These powerful figures looking down on me added so much pressure to the job. I was relieved when we finally came to the stairs and the hallway ended. We descended the stairs, walked through a few more hallways (with even more paintings), descended some more stairs, and even more hallways. Finally, we arrived at the grand entrance of the palace. The golden gates were wide open and I could smell the fresh air outside. On the stairs that ran down from the gate to the courtyard, my family stood. Eloise, William, Westin, Edwyn, the last one was missing. She had been missing since the southern war. Seeing the other four Revelians felt odd without her; the sight sent small plumes of loneliness into the air. I walked up to them and smiled at them. They returned the look.

The sun shone bright and glistened on the thin blanket of snow on the ground. Snowflakes dripped down from the heavens and danced in the wind before they fell to the ground. Snow got caught on the leafless trees and covered the dead branches and icicles dripped down them like frozen tears. Between the guards and the serving staff, a thousand conversations buzzed like bees swarming a hive. The sweet smell of pastries wafted through the air from the market stalls in the yard, it mixed with the pleasant aroma of bonfires.

In the distance we saw House Laroux riding through the streets of Carleone to the castle. Five mounted guards surrounded a silver carriage. Wedging behind the guard at the front were the flag bearers. They grasped long metal poles, the yellow and black banner of Laroux waving atop. As their stallions drew closer, Eloise marvelled at the horses. She seemed unable to take her eyes off them, and a silly grin was plastered to her face. We had horses in the stables of our palace, but none of them were like the southern horses. Their horses came in all colours from golden-brown to pitch black. In the north, all our horses were the same shade of silver. And these southern horses that trotted before us were bedazzled in the flamboyant armours of the south. Great feathers of many colours stuck out of their iron helmets and blew in the wind. Beautiful silks were woven into their tails and their manes.

"Why can't our horses wear such fineries?" Eloise pouted.

"Your mother and I spend our money on more important things." Edwyn said in a playful, child-friendly voice.

"I thought our family had endless supplies of money?" Eloise looked up at him, one eye squinted in puzzlement.

"The real reason is horses look stupid like that." I told her. "Don't tell your lord uncle I said that. He takes great pride in his steeds."

"All the better if you tell him." Edward grumbled. "My lord brother could benefit from a good humbling."

After a few more minutes of teasing the extravagant horse armour, the guard at the front raised a fist. At her signal, all the horses came to a halt. The doors of the carriage opened, and out stepped a tall, muscular man. He wore a thick, black fur cloak with trim white as snow. At his waist, the obsidian hilt of his sword poked out of the cape. It was the darkest hilt I had ever seen. It seemed as though it had been wrapped in a starless night sky. His wife and three children followed him out of the carriage.

"Now presenting Lord Ayden of House Laroux, lord of Highedge and Blademaster-to-be." The guard at the front announced. Her voice was loud and powerful. Slowly I began to descend the steps to greet them. My boots crunched in the snow. My family followed my lead.

"Well met, my lord." I bowed my head slightly. I stood before him as a queen would, my posture straight as an arrow and my chin held high. "Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Carleone."

"It is an honour to be hosted under your roof, your grace." His face was stoney and stoic. A book submerged in a lake would be easier to read than his expression.

"Did your journey find you well, brother?" Edwyn asked, wearing the smallest smile.

"Your roads are far too cold, brother. I would not wish these temperatures on my worst enemies." Lord Laroux let out a dry, unsmiling chuckle.

Lord Laroux's eyes found Eloise and they widened in shock. "Your grace, your daughter is the spitting image of your sister, Lady Evie."

My mouth immediately tensed and became a grim frown. Those words soured on my ears like bad milk. And it seemed my brother felt the same way: Westin raised his hand and brought it down on Lord Laroux as quickly as lightning. The tall lord let out a cry of pain and brought his hand to his cheek, feeling the tenderness where Westin had struck. The Larouxs' guards drew their blades, and the Revelians' drew theirs in turn.

Westin's eyes burned as he stared at Lord Laroux. "Get our sister's name out of your mouth, you whore of a man." 

-=+=-

Vicious Eyes and Malicious White Lies
-Wesley Lancaster-

Dedicated to my close friends and I, whom the characters are based off of.