Long Live The Queen

Chapter 1 - The Queen is Dead... Again.

Jonathan was lying in a large bed, naked, sweat dripping off him. His breathes were deep, ragged, his wild eyes staring at the woman that lay next to him. Her mouth was open, her teddy-bear brown eyes open, blank, lifeless. He let out a deep laugh, satisfaction spreading through him as the warm glow of his orgasm faded away from his stomach.

That was his favorite thing in the whole wide world. They never saw it coming. All his brides feared him, hated him, but all of them could never get enough of him. He would allow each bride to live a year, maybe two, depending on how boring or pathetic she was. This one had only lasted ten months though - she had been fair with golden hair, but her personality had been so... lacking.

He stood up after a leisurely amount of time, the blood growing sticky on his flesh. He looked around the room they were in. His sixth wife had been plain, there was nothing fancy in here, though she could have requested anything. He was cruel but he didn't like things to be... boring. And that is exactly what she had been. His hazel eyes turned to the dead woman on the bed with a sneer spreading across his perfect lips.

"Good riddance." He said cruelly before throwing open the door to her chambers. "White Man..." he summoned softly and smiled as a pale white creature came from the shadows. Where it should have had eyes, there were none, only black empty holes. It's skin porcelain white and had no hair. You could see the bones jutting out beneath skin. Jonathan looked at the creature appreciatively with a smile.

Once his 'friend' had died on the roof of the tallest tower, Jonathan had paid the most powerful witch in his service to turn his corpse into an obedient ghoul - but only after the vultures had pecked out his eyes. He renamed the ghoul White Man, for the filth did not deserve a proper name. And death was too kind for the man who had once been his most trusted confidant. No, he would spend eternity serving Jonathan, if Jonathan could help it.

"Have a bite to eat... your yearly meal is behind this door... When you've had your fill have the servants come and clean this up and prepare the room. Spread the word. In two weeks’, time, we are going to have another ball. Daddy needs a new wife. Oh, and fetch my daughter, please. She hasn't come from her room in days, and it's about time she and I had some family time."

The ghoul nodded silently, bowing its head as the monstrous king passed him, smelling thick of blood making the ghoul drool. Obediently, the ghoul turned and entered the room. Waste not, want not, after all, right?

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In the countryside of what used to be a lush and green kingdom, spread across leagues of land, villages dotted the dry dead landscape. In each of these villages, a noble family reigned over. Most of the nobles had succumbed to poverty, doing what they could to survive. For the Mad King did not even care for his bannerman enough to make sure that they were doing well at least. But in each village, the people were worse off.

And each time the Mad King killed a Queen, they all knew that they would be called forth to offer up their daughters for his sick pleasures. Whomever daughter belonged to would be rewarded handsomely, and it would help the people of their village for a time - but each of them knew it was certain death for their daughter. Six wives in the eight dark years since the King had lost his mind.

Darkness covered the sun in a disgusting gray haze, and most of the wildlife had left. People were starving across the land. When Jonathan went mad, and began his reign of bloodshed and terror, torturing and killing anyone who slighted him, the surrounding Kingdom withdraw their alliances and trade contracts. No income coming into the Kingdom, and none going out. No one dared to invade, for the only indulgence in spending the Mad King allowed for was his military. And within his ranks, he had dark forces that no other Kingdom wanted to risk fighting.

When people tried to leave his kingdom the Mad King stationed border patrol across the lands, which made it difficult for the people to flee. They were ordered to capture all would-be refugees and bring them to the king...so that he could do whatever he wished with them. Eventually, after tales of disembowelment, decapitation, days of torture and r**e, and bloodletting spread across the kingdom. And people stopped trying to flee.

In one of the villages to the east of the royal city was a noble family that reigned over their village with kindness. They worked to provide for their people. They grew what food they could, captured raised and bred whatever animals they could. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep their people loyal and kind, and most of them alive.

This village belonged to the Santanero family. In a Kingdom where desolation prevailed, their people looked to them hopefully. They had kept them alive, and for the most part in good health. They were kind and strong. Windyna Santanero was the lady of the house. And she was part Elven-fae, though her husband Breon kept that fact hidden ferociously. When the Mad King snapped, he grew a fascination with creatures that weren't human - and he was especially fascinated by the ones that could breed with humans. And not in a good way.

Breon was a loving father and husband, stoic and strong. His dark black hair was kept neat and tidy, his back was always rigid as he was a retired general - given the privilege of a good life before Jonathan had lost his mind. He was tall and fit for an older man, at the prime age of 45. His wife was beautiful, with silver hair and golden eyes, a trim waist, and delicate elven features from the slender long fingers to the tips of her elegant (but shorter than a full-blood elf) pointed ears.

She kept this always covered with a scarf or a hat when she was outside of her home. And they had but one daughter. Iris Santanero. Her hair was as dark as her father's and fell in cascades of dark curls down to her shoulders, and her ears were almost normal looking, though her features were sharp, and her eyes were golden. However, thanks to her mother's mixed lineage, her appearance was mostly human. Her beauty, however, told another story. For what mere human could compare?

What gave her an edge however was that her mind was quick, her intelligence unrivaled. When the Mad King began to take wives, Breon had hidden his daughter as best he could, his worst fear was that her beauty would captivate the king. Luckily, she had been too young to attend the balls for the better part of the past six years. The only redeeming quality about the Mad King was that he was not into children. That he still appeared to hold sacred. The last ball, none of the family had attended.

They gave the excuse of a family spread fever. However, the excuse was met with ire and rage from the King - a messenger bringing them the warning that if they failed to appear to another event, Jonathan would send his people to slaughter them, and everyone in the village.

Breon and his wife prayed every night that the latest Queen would make the difference - that she would survive. At least survive long enough for them to find someone their daughter could marry so that she would not have to attend the balls. However, due to the state of the economy, none of the noble's priorities were marrying their sons off to anyone’s noble daughter. Everyone was too busy trying to survive. Not to mention, every marriage between noble pairings had to have the King's blessing.

Either way, they went, they had no choice but to expose their daughter to the Mad King - and Windyna who was gifted with premonitions knew without a doubt the moment the Mad King lay eyes on her daughter, she would be chosen.

Iris in all her glory was strong, to say the least. But ever since the darkness filled the sky, she felt oppressed. Gifted with the ability to sense darkness, malevolence, evil... the sky itself always pressed down upon her head. The dark haze that refused to allow rain to fall and the sun to shine made her sick often. The evil radiating from the sky left her forlorn often.

But today was not one of those days. Today was her twentieth birthday, and her parents despite the condition that life had put them in were determined to celebrate. So, she was going to be in a good mood - even if it killed her. She was not aware yet that it had been four days since the death of the latest Queen. She only knew that life was continuing as it always had, and today the baker had found a way to make her treats. It was not real bread, for they had to find other resources. Crops would not grow, so that meant there was no flour.

The Baker, who was now just someone who made treats with what he could be once a large man, but now not so much. His skin sagged where he used to be large, but he was kind, and jolly - though his eyes were haunted after his wife fell ill and she was not able to recover.

It was the evening, and Iris had wrapped her arms around the Baker.

"Thank you so much!" She gushed at the beautiful treats on the plate he had brought her. Already she had received a dress from the Seamstress, a pair of shoes, and small little odds and ends that people from the village had come to give their heiress. They loved all loved her and her parents without a doubt, for they tried their best to take care of their family.

"Miss Iris, I hope your birthday is full of joy." The Baker smiled happily, the hug from the young girl making his sagging cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"May I eat one now?" Iris asked him, and the Baker laughed.

"It is your birthday, Miss Iris. I believe that means you can do whatever you want." The Baker said happily.

"Oh, eat one with me please?" She said, plucking one of the gummy treats. It was squishy but felt chewy, but it was shaped like a flower, and dyed blue. The Baker looked at the plate of treats hesitantly, for there were not that many. "Please?" Iris' golden eyes flashed pleadingly, and the old man could not resist the sweet thing.

"If you insist Miss," he said fondly, before picking one up himself. They both plopped them in their mouths, and while the Baker would feel empty that he could not make mountainous cakes and beautiful pastries anymore, he felt satisfied he was able to make anything taste sweet at all. Iris clapped her hands, making happy noises as she chewed.

It was her happy delighted reaction that filled the Baker with joy. It was the little things, little things like love and happiness that helped this village thrive better than the rest. The Santaneros did their best to keep faith, hope, and happiness alive in their village.

When the Baker was off, Iris brought the plate inside as her mother was setting out a larger than their normally strictly proportioned meal.

"What have you there darling?" She asked, her golden eyes sweeping her daughter's face.

"The Baker brought us treats for my birthday," Iris said happily, setting it in the middle. There were three left on the plate, one for each of them. "There would have been five for us to share, but I insisted on eating one with the Baker after he went through so much trouble for me." The young woman explained apologetically, suddenly worry crossing her delicate features as if she feared she made a mistake that could hurt her family.

Windyna smiled proudly at her daughter. Her husband and herself had worked hard to instill kindness in their daughter, and sometimes she felt as if it worked too well, for Iris worried herself to death about their people, and their family sometimes.

"I am glad that you did. That is after all the politest thing to do when someone brings you food in these times." At her words, she watched her daughter's face smooth out in relief. She was so proud. Today was so special, the day that her little miracle came into this world. But it was also special because Windyna knew that something was about to change.

Something was going to happen to her daughter, though she could not put her finger on it. She just knew... it was big. It had filled the woman with dread - but she knew that fate could not be changed - and premonitions though never set in stone, were never clear either. She had discussed her feeling with her husband, and together they had decided that today would be as special possible - just in case the worse were to happen.

Breon entered the room, his dark eyes taking in the two beauties before him, and he smiled broadly.

"Good evening family." He said happily taking his seat. "Oh, are those from the baker?" He asked, pointing at the pretty flower-shaped treats. Iris smiled and nodded. "I thought so, I saw him leave as I was coming home."

"Are we ready to eat?" Windyna came with the last plate. It was pitiful, and as she looked at what she scrounged up she longed for the times that seemed so long ago so that her daughter could have a proper party.

"Thank you, Mama. Thank you, Papa. I hope you didn't put us out for this. I love you guys." Iris said gratefully, bowing her head gratefully.

"Nonsense. Happy birthday my beautiful." Breon said, joy seeping in his heart.

"Happy birthday sweet girl. Now eat up." Windyna said, and as they sat to eat.

As usual at dinner, their table was filled with laughter and conversation. When they shut their front door at night, they did so with the intention of shutting out the darkness. They worked hard to make sure that their home was happy as possible, and tonight was no different.

They had all just finished the Baker's treats, rubbing their tummy contentedly. Tonight, they had indulged, for the first time in a very long time. And despite how small the layout had been, there was still food leftover.

Iris was happy. Life wasn't that bad. So long as their people worked with them to stay alive, and she had her parents, life was truly what you made of it. In the family room, her mother was curled up into her father's side, reading aloud from a gilded book one of their last possession, telling them lore of the Elves, while Iris sat practicing her embroidery as she listened.

The peace did not last long though, and a sharp knock rapped on their door, cutting of Windyna words.

"Who could that be?" The woman whispered, dread filling her heart.

"Perhaps just a straggler with a last-minute gift for Iris..." Breon said, standing. Windyna knew this wasn't true, and that feeling of dread spread across her gut. Iris knew whatever was outside wasn't necessarily bad, but she too had a feeling it wasn't one of their people.

When Breon opened the door, he narrowed his eyes at the man he saw there. The man wore the Kings sigil upon his chest - the face of a satyr, his expression twisted in a snarl. Once it had been a beautiful crest, one of blue and green, a mushroom peacefully in the center. Not long after, Queen Rosa died however, the King demanded the change. The messenger wore the usual uniform of black and red now, his hat shadowing his face.

"Excuse me Sir Santanero. I come bearing news." The Santanero village was the last village that bore a noble to the east, and from the weariness on the man's face, Breon could not help but extend his hospitality.

"Come in. Sit and have a bite and a drink."

"Thank you, Sir Breon. My horse..."

"Never fear, despite the times I still have a few helpers..." Breon let out a loud whistle, and it was just a few minutes a young lad came out of the barn, his mouth full of what must have been his supper.

"I'm sorry, I know it's later than usual, but please take care of the horse." Breon told the boy. In exchange for shelter and food, the family had taken in another family for work. They kept the grounds up, took care of what animals they could, and foraged for food. The boy nodded, happy to do his job. After all, he was not as hungry as some of the villagers were thanks to this man and his family.

The messenger stepped inside after taking off his hat, and he bowed respectfully to the two women who had stood up to see who their guest was.

"I thank you for the hospitality. May I proceed with the message, from the King before I sit?" The messenger asked hesitantly.

"Sit and let us make you a plate while you speak." Windyna was ever the noble. No matter the message, she knew that it was not this man's fault, though she was almost sick with the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

As the messenger sat down, and Windyna helped him to a serving of everything that was left the messenger bowed his head.

"The Queen is dead. And in 10 days' time, there will be a ball so that a new Queen shall be chosen. You are required to show up and offer all daughters you may have to King Jonathan." The messenger did not touch his food yet, waiting for the hostile response he had been getting from each noble family he had visited within the last four days.

Instead, Breon nodded and forced a smile on his face.

"We understand. Please eat. Once you've eaten you must rest. You look like you're about to keel over any minute good man." He said gently. The Messenger grabbed his plate with such enthusiasm that Windyna, though rage was bubbling through her could not help but feel sorry for him. Who knew what cruelty he had experienced bearing this news...?

Her golden eyes went to her husband, who stared at her in return. Despair was swimming his eyes helplessly, and they both turned to look at their unusually beautiful daughter, who was looking at them with an expression that could not be read.

"My daughter. We must prepare." Windyna said softly. Iris nodded.

"I'm going to bed. We will do it in the morning mother." She answered, her voice dull. After bidding everyone good night, she turned to go to her room on the second floor of their manor, her heart sinking deep within the pit of her stomach.