Iron Queen

Five

M A R K

Toria’s mother died when she was five years old, and eight months later her father was gone too. My mother used to say that Sebastian loved Amberly so much that he couldn’t bear to live in a world where she no longer existed.

One morning, I was riding my bicycle past Eliz and Germano’s house when I saw her sweeping the porch.

Toria was wearing a blue cotton dress with flowing skirts. Victoria’s dark hair hung loose in tight waves, but I knew that under the sunlight it would glow like moonlight, so black that it seemed to shine.

It had already been two years since her father’s passing and almost three since her mother’s, but she had never been the same again. She was always downcast, keeping to herself. And to make things worse, Eliz mistreated her. Victoria didn’t need to tell me; I knew, even back then. The woman blamed her niece for her brother’s death, making her pay for all her pain.

— Hey, Mrs. Eliz, how are you? — I said as I got off my bicycle and walked toward Toria’s aunt, who was gathering leaves from the yard. — My mother asked me to bring this pie for you. — I held out the dish to the woman, who smiled suspiciously. Victoria watched me from the back, her blue eyes shining while she kept her mouth shut and both hands on the broom.

— Thank her for me, Mark. — Eliz tapped my shoulder in gratitude as she took the dish covered with the checkered cloth, though her words sounded more matter-of-fact than thankful. Toria sometimes told me she wished she could hear her aunt laugh, but Eliz never smiled.

She was Sebastian’s younger sister, a very beautiful woman for her age, extremely blonde and petite, shorter than average, but with a hard and severe face. I used to think she must live in the kitchen and the yard because that was where I always saw her. She was a quiet woman, not fond of casual conversation. No one ever knew what she was thinking. The older people in the neighborhood said she was dry, inside and out, so full of bitterness that she had never been able to have a child.

— You know… — I called after her impulsively. — My mother asked if Victoria could come over this afternoon. My brothers and I are going to help Mr. André with the harvest, and she needs help making sweets.

The woman stopped halfway up the wooden steps that led into the house. Her narrow gaze shifted between me and Toria, then her hands gripped the hem of her flowing skirt.

— Of course. It’ll do that girl some good to learn how to do something useful with your mother. She can’t even sweep properly. — the woman said in a tone weary with disappointment. Then she went inside without looking back.

Toria walked down the steps toward me, her little hands clasped together. We headed toward the bicycle lying near the fence.

— Did your mother really ask me to help, Mark?

— No. I asked my mother to make the pie and then asked if I could invite you to spend the day at our house. She said yes. I know today marks three years since your mother passed away, Toria. — I took a deep breath. — But don’t tell anyone.

She promised without hesitation, and we continued up the hill, both my hands pushing the old bicycle as we made our way toward my farm.

— I know she mistreats you, Toria. That’s why I came. Especially today. You deserve a break.

That day, after helping Mr. André with the harvest, I returned home and found Toria smiling, helping my mother roll little pastries they had made in the kitchen. My mother talked to Eliz and eventually convinced her to let Victoria spend the weekend with us, and it was incredible. We played until late at night and ate many of the sweets my mother had made, helped my brothers with their chores, and rode horses. I had never seen her as happy as she was during those days.

I was the oldest of three brothers. My father was always traveling for work in the factories deep within the forests to earn enough money, and while he was away, I was the man of the house. My father used to say that I should take care of my mother, my brothers, and Victoria.

I waited for her at the farm gate every day so we could walk to school together. We played whenever we could, filling our clothes with wild berries we gathered from the forest. My mother would take us to the waterfall to swim, and afterward she would make fresh sandwiches for us to eat. Toria was always spirited, fun, and smiling. But I saw her eyes, the red and purple marks left by her aunt’s beatings. I knew about the times she went to the barn to cry in secret, missing her parents. Missing a life she could never have again.

Over time, she learned how to live with that pain and with her uncles’ contempt. She used to tell me she would be fine as long as she had me. But she was wrong about that. Toria would have been fine anyway. She was strong, resilient, and every day she taught me about happiness; that it could be found even in the darkness.

Silence hung heavily in the kitchen. Toria’s uncle sat quietly at the table, waiting for his wife just as my girl was. Every now and then our eyes met, and I could tell that despite her denials, she was still afraid. Her irises betrayed her anxiety and fear. A mixture of dangerous emotions lost within the intensity of that blue.

Her expression was tense and clearly troubled when she lifted her chin and offered me a weak smile, a simple sign that she was okay. That was her greatest quality and her worst flaw; being incredibly strong and terribly cruel to herself.

It was difficult for any of us to grow up without such a weight on our chest. Even as children, a seal was placed upon us: Southerners. It meant not only where we came from but the fate of our lives. The cruel, grinding future waiting ahead of us. Most of us, if we were not drafted into the Guard, had no choice but to work in the factories, the only profitable employment capable of putting food on our tables.

There were nights when I thought about the Guard, the same recurring nightmare of soldiers calling my name in Golden Fox Square. Mark Lennis, drafted. My mother cried with my brothers, and Victoria was left alone. In a few months, my greatest fear could become reality. The draft period was an undeniable fact, a mark on my future waiting eagerly for me. And maybe her going to the Capital was the best choice, a gift. That way, Toria would never have to watch me be taken away, and she could be happy, far from this place that was never enough and never would be.

Footsteps began echoing in the back of my mind, a sharp sound that pulled me back to reality. The noises indicated that Eliz had finally returned. I silently thanked her for appearing and breaking the tension that had formed between us.

Eliz cleared her throat.

— Toria… Before anything else, everything I’m about to tell you, I didn’t tell you before because I wanted to protect you. I wanted what was best for you. Your safety has always been my priority and Germano’s as well. I ask that you remember these words and never forget them, no matter what happens…

Carefully, she removed a photograph and placed it in her niece’s hands. Toria initially refused, but after a silent battle of challenging looks between her and her aunt, the girl finally took the photograph.

— This is your father when he was younger. — Toria looked up, her hand barely moving as her fingers gently caressed the image. As if somehow she could break through time and touch him. — Sebastian Megan was a cook, the best one I ever knew…

— Because he was so talented, he was called to the North. It was almost a miracle that his gift wasn’t wasted in the South. An art that would have died with him because of the lack of opportunity where we came from. At the time, I remember thinking that was what saved him. His dedication and his talent. They saved him.

— He worked in northern cities until he saved enough money to go to Vêrmenia. Together with a group of friends, he opened a restaurant in the capital called Flor do Mar. I remember reading it in one of his letters. It was an immediate success, so fast and profitable that it attracted the attention of even the nobility. Lords, Dukes, and even someone from the Palace. Rumors spread, and the King commissioned Flor do Mar’s catering service for one of his celebrations. The success was so great that it became a recurring arrangement for every major event at the Castle.

Not only I, but Toria and Germano as well, noticed her breathing falter and her words waver. Her husband stood up and gently rested a hand on her shoulder, instantly calming her. Though with visible pain, she continued.

— It was at one of those celebrations that he met your mother, Amberly Campbell. She was not… she was never a simple seamstress like you believed. She was royalty, a princess raised her entire life to become queen. But she fell in love… she truly fell in love. Their love was unique and genuine, and it was from that uncontrollable and even impulsive love that you were born. And it was also because of that love that she renounced her destiny, her lineage, her inheritance, her name, and her family for you and for Sebastian. She always knew she could never have both; the crown and him. So Amberly made her choice. She abdicated her position as Crown Princess and gave it to Freen, who upon coming of age took her place as a Ferro upon the throne. Naturally, the scandal was covered up. If Sebastian hadn’t married your mother, I would never have known that Allen almost had a Queen one day.

Eliz squeezed her eyes shut. Her expression struggled against an old sorrow; Amberly. She must have believed the woman had been her brother’s downfall. The beginning and the end of Sebastian.

— They lived simply, but my brother always told me they were happy, very happy. Your mother wanted that; to live happily with Sebastian and with you by her side… But her illness prevented her from continuing that journey. All those beautiful dreams and promises of love, all the sacrifice and pain they endured to be together in the end, it was all for nothing… Amberly used to say that it had all been worth it. And ever since then, I have lain awake every night in my bed imagining that it wasn’t worth enough.

Like a reflex, a sudden movement made me clutch my head. This was madness! I tried to compose myself and take a deep breath before looking at Toria. My eyes searched for hers in a desperate plea for answers, but contrary to what I expected, her reaction to all of it was complete emptiness. Victoria remained exactly as before, motionless with the photograph in her hands. Bathed in a look I had never seen before, filled with emotions that were utterly indecipherable and agonizing.

Deep down, I knew I had promised to put her pieces back together, but this was real, and in that moment the truth came with a power of its own. Nothing could be fixed after this.