[This fic was written for the Subrealicon Challenge. All characters
you recognize were originally Marvel's. The ones you don't are mine,
all mine! <insert evil laugh #42.2>. The historical parts are
completely true-- believe it, or not!]
They woke her near sundown. She knew this because she was a
light sleeper and she heard them shuffle slowly into the room. She pulled
away from her bed reluctantly, tumbling out of the twisted and tangled up
sheets. The handmaids righted her, slowly easing her out of the sheets,
identical white faces smiling courteously.
"Is there any news about Dear One?" she asked. They made her go to
bed near daybreak, pulling her reluctantly away from his bedside. She
let them do so, only because she wanted to be rested for him when he
awoke the next day.
One of the handmaids stifled a sob. The other said, with a voice
as smooth as silk, "Dear child, do not worry about such matters."
"I see." She looked towards the main house. "So, he's dead."
"Oh, your Highness," the lesser maid said, wringing her hands together.
"I am so scared, so frightened of what they will do--"
"Silence." She would not cry. He told her not to cry for him,
but to bear the burden of their child with grace and dignity. Her back
prickled with the weight of unshed tears as she manuevered towards the
bathing room. "I must dress."
"Yes, your Highness." The two maids dolefully prepared their mistress
bathing her with the scented oils, caressing her extended belly. She was
not gross with pregancy like her aunt, but her belly prominently
proclaimed her impending motherhood. The one maid kept weeping as they
dressed her in white, the color of death. They arranged her hair down her back,
sweeping the floor. They brushed it one thousand times, and as they
brushed she thought of her dead husband--how much she loved him, how she
could never repay him for the kindness he showed to her.
In the courtyard, all the servants wailed, moaned, gnashing their
teeth. She snorted, passing them and going directly to the funeral bier.
If there's anything she could say about the servants, they did their jobs
well and promptly. If he died not long after she left him, they would
have had little time to prepare his body for the funeral.
looked at her gathered sisters: First Wife standing stoically
with the crown prince, Second Wife, wailing hysterically as the guards pulled
her away from the body. Third Wife waited quietly, only her lips moving
quietly in prayer giving away her discomfort. Neither of them paid any attention
to the other, they were all locked into their misery and grief. As was
she.
flames danced high in the growing darkness, lighting the
darkest corners of the courtyard. One, two, three separate fires could
be made out from behind her teary eyes. It must be the cinders, she
thought as Third Wife came away, giving First Wife an inscrutable look
before descending the stairs to join her children. It was her turn to approach
her husband.
She took one of his hands in hers and placed it upon her belly.
"Dearest husband," she whispered to his corpse, "I regret that you will
never see the birth of our child. I cherish all the days I had to spend
with you. I ask now that you bless our child, so that he may grow strong
and powerful like you. Her head dropped to her chest, the traitorous tears
sliding slowly down her cheeks. She didn't even notice when the servants
led her away from the bier. All she wanted to do now was to go back to
bed and sleep this evening away.
She stumbled on the rocky path and looked up in surprise. They
were not taking her back to her quarters. Second Wife was there, as was
Third Wife, both flanked by mean, tough looking servants. She addressed
her sisters. "What is going on?"
An agonizing howl floated over the courtyard, causing Second Wife
to tremble violently. Instantly, the guard grabbed her upper arm painfully
and she cried out. Third Wife looked up, a resigned expression on her face.
"It is the Will that we should remain faithful to our husband," she
said wryly, her eyes shifting to the right.
She glanced over in surprise to see First Wife sitting on his throne,
her son at her right side. First Wife inclined her head, daring her to
speak out, to challenge her rights as the Dowager Empress.
"But my child--"
"--shall see his father soon. As will you," At that, the guard next
to Second Wife pulled out a ceremonial dagger and slit her cleanly across the
throat. Blood gushed forth as she stiffened in shock, her hands clenching
spasmodically in the air. Quickly, Third Wife closed her eyes, praying
silently as she too was slit across the throat. She died less dramatically,
slumping to lay at her feet, the blood staining the hem of her white
funereal gown.
She understood now. She understood it all. "Make it quick," she
breathed to the guard beside her, who paused slightly, before ramming the
dagger into her wonb, skewering her unborn child. The pain rippled through
her and she stifled the shriek, focusing instead of First Son's momentary
look of sadness and First Wife's maddening expression. First Wife
began to laugh joyously as her lifeblood poured out of her baby, poured
out of her. She gasped through the pain, "I curse you." They were her
last words as the guard slashed her across the throat.
*****
Warren shook Elizabeth out of her trance. "Are you alright?" he
asked her. Elizabeth stretched lightly, her eyes adjusting to the darkness
around her. The stars shone overhead, the moon spilling its light into the
courtyard below. He gave her an awed look. "Was it a premonition?"
Elizabeth shook her head, sneaking silently down the stairs,
unerringly to the spot where the young girl had died. She stared dis-
believingly at the stones. Warren glided down to meet her, standing
right on the place where she lay dying, the guards hacking the child out
of her womb to be placed in a different part of the burial chamber.
"She was only fourteen," she whispered.
"What?"
"Nothing." Elizabeth closed her eyes, and offered up a silent prayer to the
gods above. She adjusted her uniform and took up her katana. "Let's go."
Warren shrugged and took off into the air, knowing that Elizabeth
would track him from the ground. That's why he didn't see her lying prone
on the ground, weeping.
This is where I got the inspiration from my story:
