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The Matter of Heirs - Preview
🕑 Added 2021-04-24 21:14:37 +0000 UTCFeels like forever since a self-directed Menagerie tale. Not sure how long it'll be, but here we have the standard intro (might try to do more previews with originals due to how commission previews work now).
"It was a fine morning, bright sunlight trickling through the scarlet drapes to coat the wide hall of the castle in a warm glow. Outside the fair chirps of bird songs rang; calls for mates as the winter’s melt made way for spring, the season of nesting. There was beauty to it, between the young blooms and verdant green signaling the return of life, and yet, sitting upon her throne, the queen could find no enjoyment in it.
“Queen Severina, your majesty,” a serf bowed as he came into the ornate throne room.
The woman's deep-brown locks cascaded over her shoulders as she turned to him. “What is it?” she asked, a sift sigh pouring over cinnamon lips; she knew the reason for the interruption already.
“A request from our northern neighbor, for your hand Queen Severina,” the messenger explained.
The apathy in her chocolate eyes, displayed unabashedly on her angular features, was palpable. “I am not interested,” she replied, getting to her feet and stepping down from her place up high.
Rising, the servant awkwardly stood, watching the tall queen pass him, half a head above him. “Forgive me your majesty, if I may,” she paused, an ear turned to him to listen to what he had to say, “You are nearing thirty, and still have no heir to your throne; even a bastard. If you continue to reject every offer of marriage that comes to you, the kingdom will be left without a monarch.”
“I am aware,” was all she replied, her hands clasped at her front as she continued out of the room and into the grand halls.
Passing by the windows, thin rays of sun made the jewels of her silver crown shimmer, contrasting well with her tanned skin. The soft padded sounds of her shoes against the stone were the only company to her thoughts. Of course, she knew the consequences to her actions. She wanted children to call her own, for her nation to maintain its strength, but it wasn’t so simple as that.
From the corner of her eye, something came into view. At once the queen’s pace stopped, the frilled hem of her layered dress sweeping around her ankles from the sudden halt.
A door, here, in her castle? That was not its only oddity, it was unlike any other such portal within her home. The wood shone oddly, her fingers gliding over it like the finest, and the handle was some odd brass ball; how was one to turn it? Experimenting with it, she could feel the mechanism inside turning as she rotated it, the final kick and the lurch of the door inward as the pressure relieved sending a shock through her.
The hinges were well oiled, swinging inward with nary a squeak, and revealing an even more unusual sight. A storefront, within a room of architecture completely foreign to her and her country. Curiously her eyes wandered, her muffled steps carrying her inside without even noticing. The carpentry of the shelves was exquisite, and the exotic wares on display boggled the mind.
Snapping her from her wonder was a horrid sound: a metallic strum that grated against her ears and drew her attention up to the back. There was a woman, laxly laid back in her chair, heavy boots propped up on her counter with some garish instrument laid across her lap. Lithe fingers lay across its strings, and with a flick of her wrist another rough note echoed through the shop and made the refined guest flinch.
“What a horrid sound. I insist you stop, minstrel,” it was the only word she could think to describe the woman, with her outlandish garb that did nothing to protect her modesty. Her white tunic was oversized, lazily hanging over one arm and showing the ridiculous thin straps of a chemise beneath.
“Hello to you too,” the mysterious bard replied, the accent to her words as extrinsic of her people’s own as the rest of this place.
Toying one last time with the knobs on her strange tool she set it aside, swinging her legs down with sloppy movements that somehow came off as graceful and rising to her feet. “Gimme a minute,” she requested, the slang making the queen recoil I revulsion. The bard stretched her arms high, bangles clattering up her wrist as the leather of her fingerless gloves groaned, and turned hazel eyes that seemed to glow with un unnatural power to her guest. “Welcome to Madam Materia’s Magical Menagerie.”
“Magic?” the dark-haired sovereign questioned, knowing better than to trust such things from silver tongued rogues, “So you are a charlatan as well then?”
The minstrel contemplated it for a moment, bobbing her head back and forth and making her raven hair dance; the dyed shocks of red within quite eye-catching and highlighting her pristine face. “Charlatan, no. My boss maybe, but I do strive to do my best while I’m stuck here,” she walked over, holding a friendly hand out for the queen to take. “The name’s Kasumi, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to help you today.”
The monarch looked to the gesture. “Excuse me, but I am a queen, knave, Queen Lidia Severina,” she stated coldly.
“And I’m a goddess,” Kasumi replied laxly.
Queen Severina scoffed, “So you are a blasphemer as well then,” she levied a critical gaze upon the woman.
“No,” the bard replied, her words suddenly heavy as they left her ruby-painted lips, “I’m quite literally a goddess Queen Severina,” she slipped one of her gloves off, raising a tattooed palm in front of the sovereign’s face that had her flinch in shock.
The mark glowed, and the tan woman felt true fear filling her from her core. She couldn’t move, as if this inhuman creature had a pull rooting her in place, forced to watch as blue light poured into her left eye. When finally, that hand fell, she was met with strange new sights; half-visible threads of light entangled the deity, wrapping her arms, her kegs, every part of her, threatening to strangle her or perhaps pull her to the four winds. And looking down, one such string was coming out from her chest.
“What is this?” she wondered aloud, trying to take the line in her long digits only to have them pass through it like it were as it looked: just light.
The goddess, however, handled it freely, picking it up and pulling it taught between them. “There’s a lot of names for it. The one that’s stuck between gods is the threads of fate,” she explained, rolling Lidia’s thread in her fingertips.
Impossible as it seemed, royal woman could feel the tug in her core, from this divine being just holding her destiny within her grasp. “I apologize for my rudeness, Kasumi,” the queen dipped her head in respect, “Your… garb and language, they are not what I would have imagined from a deity in the flesh.”
“Don’t worry about it your majesty,” Kasumi replied with a warm grin, “I could have certainly made it easier on you by wearing something era-appropriate.”
Ignoring the once in a lifetime nature of such a divine visitation, it was strange to have a goddess not speaking down to her. In all the tales she’d heard of such things, the gods put themselves on a pedestal above mortals. And yet, her was one, willfully and deliberately showing her casual respect. “You said you wished to help me, Kasumi?” the queen brought them back.
“Always,” the raven-haired deity replied, curling an arm under her bust. “To pull a play from my boss’s book, people don’t find this place unless there’s something missing from their lives.”
It wasn’t a wonder what Lidia was missing, her hand hovering above her empty womb. “My station expects much of me Kasumi, I need…” no, that wasn’t right, “I want an heir; to do what is best for my kingdom and keep it thriving, but,” she paused, holding her tongue with an ashamed look upon her face.
Queen Lidia Severina, “the virgin queen”. It was a title she had not donned herself, but what her constant rejection of every suitor had placed upon her shoulders. Her parents had died when she was still young, thrusting her into her position as ruler early enough that such a decision as marriage became her own. Many a nation, many a man, had come with offers, but Lidia turned each away, for a simple reason.
“But you’re gay,” Kasumi finished for her.
The dark-eyed sovereign raised her brow, “Pardon?” she questioned, not quite understanding the statement.
“Sorry,” the goddess realized the error in her choice of words, “I mean you prefer to lay with women.”
Deep crimson filled her tan cheeks, and her gaze dropped to the side. “Should I be surprised a goddess would know that?” she asked.
Chuckling the minstrel shook her head, the many threads hanging off her dancing with each jump of her shoulders. “Doesn’t take a god, just someone familiar with such things,” she tapped her nose.
Such a fact did not comfort the virgin queen. “So, what shall you do Kasumi?” she went on, “Fill my womb with magic so I need not take a man?”
The dark-haired deity shrugged. “Maybe, not sure,” she admitted, reaching out and lifting the woman’s glowing thread into her view, “Why don’t you see where fate takes you?”
Queen Severina stayed staring a moment, her heart racing beneath her modest bust. Her fingers still passed through the ethereal string, so all she could do was follow. One step after another, chocolate gaze locked with the thin strand, she walked among the shelves. Anticipation growing with each twist and turn, her heart nearly stopped when the thread of her fate climbed the shelf.
Following it up, she was surprised by what it was. With so many unusual artefacts, she expected some magical implement she wouldn’t recognize, but no. It was an ornate dagger, sheathed snugly in the beautifully sculpted maw of a horned daemon.
Picking it up, fingers curing around the handle, Lidia could not deny the unnatural pull it had. “I am unsure I am comfortable with the connotations of this Kasumi,” she offered grimly.
“Magic’s an unpredictable thing, things aren’t always what they seem,” the goddess explained.
Reasonable. Taking the weapon tightly the woman made a move to draw it, only to find Kasumi’s hand stopping her.
“Not here,” she smiled, “Fun a time as it could be, getting wrapped up with this nonsense,” she gestured to the hundreds of fates entwined around her, “wouldn’t be good for either of us.”
With a nod, the queen held the item close, wondering what mysteries it would hold. She thought to ask, but somehow knew the goddess would give some vague answer, no matter how helpful she was. All she could do was trust she would know when the time came. “Thank you, Kasumi, I will pray to you that this cures my woes.”
That bare hand waved in front of her, the symbol flashing and stealing the unearthly sight back from her eye. “Please, don’t pray to me,” she chuckled, “Keep your prayers for the gods of your world.”
Looking at the lax smile upon the goddess’s lips, one would never fathom the weight of the burdens constantly pulling on her. Outlandish as her dress, she seemed just a normal woman, happy, helpful, and living her life. Something even greater than her divinity to be envious of.
Dipping her head one last time, the queen struggled for a smile of her own as hope filled her. “I will,” she declared, turning and departing from the unusual stop with a spring to her step." - The Matter of Heirs by Madam Materia
