The Dead Princess

A Death For A Crown

The men she called her brother and father looked at her with cold wickedness in their gazes. They were supposed to protect and defend her. Comfort and advise her. How did it come to this? How could they do- a knife went to her neck, and she froze. Her thoughts went silent as fear crept in. She was told they were going on a picnic to celebrate her brothers' special training completed. Suddenly her brothers' training seemed strange. What exactly had he been training for that was so special? The siblings were constantly training in different things, that was nothing new. They were royal children after all. What made this training so different it warranted a so-called celebration?

A light shone in from somewhere she couldn't see and illuminated the jewels on the tiara that had tumbled off her head when she had been shoved into this room and onto the floor. The tiara was her favorite from her collection. Her mothers, when she had been the princess. Passed down to her when she turned ten, before her mother's passing. Despite Darius's age of fifteen to her seventeen, her brother was already taller than her. So tall that in the last year, he was able to put his chin upon the top of her head in their embraces. Yet despite those past embraces, her brother held the knife to her throat steadily as her father started writing a letter, reading it aloud. The royal guards had been nowhere to be found. Dismissed by her father and brother despite several being her personal guardsmen, hand picked by her and sworn only to her as heir. But she was only the Princess, her father was the King. They would listen to any command given by him. She had hope that if they knew what was happening, they would have been loyal to her. But hope seemed unhelpful given the situation she found herself in.

"I do not know who will find this correspondence. I hope they can forgive me. My royal duties as the heir to the throne, and the daughter of the king, have become too much to bear. So I renounce my title as heir so that my brother, Prince Darius Valon Avanni, may become king after my father's death. I ask forgiveness from all of Aelatus Kingdoms' subjects and my family.

Sincerely,

Princess Lythienne Varoris Avanni."

As her father wrote, tears flowed down her face. If they continue with this plan, her brother will become king after their father. Lythienne had never even known he wanted to be her father's heir, let alone would do this to accomplish it. If not for Aelatus Law's on birthrights she might have even given the role to him, had she known he coveted it so.

"Why are you doing this?" Lythienne whispered. The knife at her neck dug into the surface of her skin slightly. Darius's hands did not shake. It dawned on her why she had seen him training with the knives so much the last few weeks instead of his sword. The king laughed as her brother looked at me in disbelief. It was Darius who answered.

"Because Lily, you are the weakest person in our family. You are the greatest disappointment this kingdom has ever had disgrace the royal line. And you will never rule because you would lead it into ruin. A weak woman on the throne would cause blood to run our streets red."

Her body shook as her father stood from where he had sat to write the letter. "I would never allow you to be Queen, you stupid, ungrateful child." He spat at her feet.

She didn't understand. All her life she was taught and raised for this. She had endless tutors on every subject she could think of, with the highest marks from most if not all of them. She had done everything right. Hadn't she? What more could her father have wanted from her? What could Darius give him as heir that Lythienne couldn't? She was level-headed, kind, and thoughtful of her people, she did everything asked of her. Or at least she thought she had. That was what everyone told her. Lythienne racked her brain for something, anything, that would explain their behavior. And came up blank. This wasn’t like her father and brother. Her father was kind, if not a bit hallow from grief from her mothers passing several years ago. Her brother was self serious but well meaning. They had never acted like this before. She was going to die and never know the reason why. What could have changed?

Would people wonder what had happened to her? Her mind drifted to her betrothed. Would he even bat an eye at the news? She doubted it. He rarely spared a glance in her direction during her visits. Runiz Kólmair should have been the last thing on her mind as her brother broke the skin of her neck with a sweeping motion of the blade, spilling the black blood that marked her as a royal onto the floor. But her mind wandered anyway. Would he miss the woman who he was supposed to marry? Or just the crown that would have come with it?

Lythienne's eyes became heavy, her chest warming as her blood soaked her gown and fell downwards, dripping down to the floor. It reminded her of a vine, reaching out towards the sun but instead, reaching downwards into the soil. Like roots, yes that was it. That's what it reminded her of. Roots. Her body crumbled under her and pressed her cheek onto the rough ground. Part of her hair had been cut with the motion of slitting her throat and the shorter lengths fell in front of her eyes.

Darius wiped the pitch-colored blood from the blade onto her dress and put it back into the sheath that he had attached at his side. A blade made for a royal. With metal that matched the blood in both Darius's and her veins and jewels mined from a faraway kingdom. Their own had never yielded such gems. Once the dagger was back at his side, Darius slipped her royal seal ring off of her finger and their father pressed it into the wax he had poured on her letter. Sealing as her writing. Then Darius and her father walked out, leaving Lythienne gasping and clutching her neck as she desperately tried to stop her bleeding. They wouldn't even stay with her in her last moments. Her ears rang with a white noise she couldn't tune out. Her brain seemed to split into three different people. One seethed, while the other cried. Another was calm and focused. Deadly.

The seething part whispered through clenched teeth, "What gives them that power? The power to take their future Queens life? Anyone's life?"

The crying part sobbed, its voice shaken, cracking, and wailing, "They hurt us! How could they do this?"

The calmness stayed silent. It didn't need to speak what it needed to say. Lythienne could feel it in every inch of her bones. Survive. Her hand clenched her throat tighter, willing the blood to stop flowing from her wound. Survive. To kill them both. Survive. For her people. Survive. For the world beyond.

Lythienne's eyes went dark. Her body began to feel colder, her warmth seeping away. The ringing in her ears silenced the warring voices in her head. Her fingers on her free hand twitched outwards, to her father and brothers disappearing figures. To the crown that had tumbled from her head when her brother slit her throat. Her fingers brushed the gemstone of the crown and it began to glow.

"Get. Up." A familar voice commanded. She hadn't heard it in years, not since her father decided she hadn't needed a nursemaid.

"Come on, girl! Up!" Another ordered. Her teacher.

"Lythienne... Wake." An evangelical voice caused her eyes to open, they peeled back as invisible fingers had forced them to. Every woman she had known in her lifetime stood around her. Her mother stood with them. Even those she had only met through finger brushes on paintings that hung in the lineage hall. A small figure, only about the height of her hip, emerged from between the women. She was so small that she had almost seemed swallowed up entirely by their skirts. And Lythienne was sure she had never seen her before. While Lythienne's family all had pale flat blue eyes, this girl had a striking deep green. "You are not done living, Lythienne Avanni. There is a kingom that awaits you. Look for Vinlyx Calyreos. This is your destiny. Save our kingdoms from the streets running red and the houses filled with the dead."

She had died. This had to have been a joke. A trick of her dying mind. Something cold pressed against her calf and Lythienne jumped in surprise. Dead people didn’t jump. Did they? Lythienne couldn’t be sure as she had never died before.

"That is Kaaza, she will help you." The young girl spoke. A small deer with golden eyes stared at Lythienne, fangs protruding from her upper jaw.

'Help me? I'm dead what do I need help with?' Lythienne thought as her hand reached back to her throat. She gasped pulling them away in shock when she felt the wound there had scarred and healed.

"Go now, Lythienne. Time does not wait for the living." The green eyed girl said as the women disappeared one by one.

"Wait! Who is Vinlyx Calyreos? How am I supposed to find them?" Lythienne coughed out as she tried to shout. While her throat had healed, it seemed she still needed to recover her voice.

The young girl turned to her again, "Druica." She said as she disappeared.

Lythienne stood frozen for a while, the small deer creature wandering outside nearby and munching loudly on some berries. When she finally did move again, her hand reached to her throat again, feeling the straight raised skin of where the cut was. Her hairs shorter side tickled the back of her hand and Lythienne was acutely aware of the feeling. She shouldn't be alive. She probably wasn't, maybe this was what awaited people after death. Her crown's gems sparkled as the sun reached the frame of the door and the sun set them on fire with the blaze of her rays and Lythienne picked it up gently, making sure it wasn't damaged. It had been her mother's favorite. Lythienne’s favorate too. When she held it or wore it, it felt like her mother was still with her.

Survive. Determation set in her chest. She had no idea where she was going, but any direction besides the castles was a good enough idea for her. The little deer pranced to keep up with her and voice inside her sung a name. Vinlyx Calyreos. Lythienne plunged forward into the woods.