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rooks · 5 years ago

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i know y’all didn’t come to this blog for Castle Rock commentary but

[LIGHT SEASON 2 SPOILERS] TLDR: Castle Rock season 1 was like if Lost and American Horror Story banged and had a baby, disappointing ending (but constant “what’s next?” intrigue) included. Castle Rock season 2 is like American Horror Story full stop, and not the excellent B-movie early seasons, and more like the unoriginal later ones. Season 1 has (slightly) lower critic AND audience scores than Season 2. I will now discuss why this is stupid. Season 1 has a lot of Stephen King references framing an intriguing mystery. It definitely uses them overmuch to a viewer watching in a “binge” setting, but it is less intrusive with spaced episodes, and the show never goes so far as to lean on them. Since the story is its own standalone experience, a viewer can watch the show and only have their experience enhanced by catching the easter eggs the creators put in, little references to books, characters related to other characters, etc; but to those who do not catch these in universe references, there is no harm. Season 2, meanwhile, is garbage. The references or knowledge of the universe actually HARMS the experience. The “main character” (since there are multiple primary characters in Castle Rock s1 and s2, but Annie is the main viewpoint) of Annie Wilkes is not “revealed” in any meaningful way, as we know who she is from the beginning. There is no mystery to this, and since she is an established Stephen King character and this is effectively an origin story, any tension related to her fate and the fates of those involved with her is gone. A fan of King’s work will know exactly the kind of person she grows to be and aside from wondering how she gets there, there is no mystery. Compare this to the mysteries of just about every character in Season 1 aside from Alan Pangborn who is featured in other books, but since Season 1 happens AFTER those books, his fate and story is completely open to however the show decides to resolve it. The show in Season 2 is positively plagued by that moment so many modern remakes/reimaginings/origin stories/movies of books/etc have, which is the “this is significant so the camera will linger on it” moment, usually accompanied by a dramatic “sting” sound effect to make sure you really notice. These framed shots last longer than necessary, and while meant in most other references of this type to allow fans to recognize the references for what they are and have an “ahh” moment, and the length of the shot lends significance to help with recognition, but are pretty empty otherwise. In Season 1 these moments are very rare, and references are instead relegated to familiar locations, names, or (very brief) dialogue references. In Season 2 they are not just plentiful and visual, but if you do not get these moments, then what they are trying to say is lost on you, and as stated a the beginning of this paragraph, they actually spoil the experience, so their presence is pointless. There is a long segment that leads to a scene in the second episode where Annie falls into a tunnel that leads into the Marsten House which she narrowly escapes from without being discovered. Any classic film/King fan will recognize this as the focal point of evil in Salem’s Lot where the vampires that infested the town originated from/were destroyed in. From this, it is easy to put the pieces together: Annie fell into a tunnel filled with coffins beneath the Marsten House. These are probably vampire coffins or corpses of their victims. She escapes through the house which is occupied though it shouldn’t be, so there are probably vampires back in Salem’s Lot. Annie, a focal and violent character, will probably have to square off with the vampires in some meaningful way as the plot of the season. Anyone with the inside knowledge effectively has the story laid bare for them, but anyone who DOESN’T have this knowledge is left in the dark as an “aha” moment plays out that they are not in on. The whole scene seems abrupt and strangely out of place since the reference means nothing. Season 1, however, gives nothing. Pangborn is present but due to the events taking place outside the time of other works, anything can happen. Henry Deaver, our main character, is an unknown and is related only tangentially to other characters and known plots. Every character has some kind of mystery around them, and the unknown course of where the story will go not only lends itself to interesting storytelling, its actually the backbone of the entire story. Not knowing what is really happening or who certain people are is the secret we watch the show to reveal. The only giveaway lies in understanding how the connection of King’s literary universe (outside of its key towns in Maine) works gives any clue as to the mysteries of the plot. This is just structure stuff, and if it seems like I’m being snobby by demanding a show’s high level plot be coherent and intriguing, that’s fair, but I am only doing that because these elements allow viewers to look past the moment to moment issues shows might have. Lost’s entire success hinged on mystery despite constant failure to deliver on many premises. Season 1 has flaws, it can drag, some “spooky” moments go nowhere, but it is all possible to be overlooked for episodes like The Queen where huge mysteries are revealed or seemingly pointless scenes are brought together to show that the showrunners truly knew what they were doing even when it didn’t seem that way. The reason that it is tragic that Season 2 does not have this is because Season 2 has all of the aforementioned issues and more. Season 2 chooses rather than jumping between many stories (or in staying with the same characters, to bridge long periods of time to get to interesting plot beats or moments) to spend almost all of its time with Annie Wilkes. The first episode is especially guilty, but it s a regular practice of showing scene after scene of the same imagery in her psychosis and hammering the “she needs drugs” point over your head repeatedly. Random gory or spooky moments will occur for just the sake of happening. Sudden violence or jump scares are commonplace. This has all of the same hallmarks of American Horror stories season 1 and 2, but with none of the schlocky humor. Castle Rock takes itself deadly serious, and the focus on individual stressors and characters is completely out of place in a show that has previously been about the big picture. Some might see this as a matter of preference but its the dissonance here that ruins the entire experience. It doesn’t help that Season 1 treated the viewer as intelligent while Season 2 can’t be bothered with such risks. Some plots are “answered” but never explained in Season 1 because any observant audience will know that one scene explains another, or makes another idea you had not possible and closes off that as a possible “solution” to the mystery. Meanwhile in episode 1 of Season 2, we are shown no less than five different times Annie trying to figure out how she can break into a certain room to get drugs. The entire episode hinges on this quest, and rather than us seeing the obvious thread of 1. she sees a doctor has the keycard 2. she attempts to get in using the keycard... Instead, we have to see the keycard being used while the gears in Annie’s brain STRUGGLE to figure out how she can POSSIBLY get into the room... only to eventually use the keycard which she gets in an completely unrelated way. That isn’t just disrespecting the character, it is disrespecting the audience who is experiencing the story through her. It isn’t that it is more or less realistic to have a character observe something many times while coming up with a solution, it is that the process of doing so is REALLY BORING TO WATCH. In Season 1, either the person would have directly gone and got the boring process of this scene over with, OR something unexpected and subverting would have happened, also right away, to move the plot along. Because Season 1′s plot has places to be and a lot to say, and Season 2 is only interested in being spooky and tense. If Season 2 feels the need to spoonfeed the audience a moment to moment solution to a problem, it should come as no surprise that it does the exact same thing with the overarching plot, showing over and over the same themes, the same “mystery”, and never bothering once to allow a viewer to come to their own conclusion. Season 1 is a story, and Season 2 is a painful January horror movie. Anyway, sorry for the wall of text, I don’t want to put it behind a cut. Season 2 of Castle Rock is disappointing as hell.

#castle rock #season 1 #season 2 #review

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fableweaver · 6 years ago

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Arc of the Masked Queen

Music played a lively background to the Court of Miracles. The hall was well lit and brightly decorated with streamers and flowers. It was the anniversary of Arian Drasir I coronation as High King when he over threw the Aldan rule. Lucia sat watching the performers as endless platters of food passed before her. The mood of court was merry; you’d never think that the princess and other members had died two months ago. Her transformation into Jeanne was complete, for two months now she had been Jeanne without anyone the wiser.

She had taken two beauty sigils, surprised at how they had been applied. One of the court mages, Harper, used a brand to sear the sigil into Lucia’s upper arm. The burn had hurt for a moment, but then Lucia had felt an almost euphoric sensation as the burn healed and she was granted the beauty she never had. Her features weren’t changed; it was more like they were richer and more vibrant. Her hair became luxuriant, her skin clear, and eyes a bright golden hazel.

“Do you think I can hit that oaf with a dagger from here?” Elrik asked breaking into Lucia’s thoughts. He looked at her with a wicked glint in his blue eyes, a grin on his face.

“Yes milord,” Lucia answered in a deadpan voice. She wasn’t acting the part; two months in Elrik’s bed had not been pleasant, even after she had told him she would be fragile because of the mage healing. Elrik nodded and tossed the dagger, the blade flying and just missing the poor acrobat performing. Elrik laughed as the acrobat missed a step and dropped the balls he was juggling.

“I must say you are much more accommodating,” Elrik said as he put on hand on Lucia’s thigh, squeezing. Lucia closed her eyes, trying not to wince as his fingers probed an old bruise. “Rape seems to be the medicine you needed.”

“Yes milord,” Lucia said quietly.

“Though it isn’t really rape is it?” Elrik said leaning close enough Lucia could smell the wine on his breath. “You want it like a bitch in heat don’t you?”

“Yes milord,” Lucia answered and Elrik kissed her cheek and then neck. He stopped as a new dish was set before them and he turned to eat. Lucia noticed Elrik ate a lot; he had youth’s broad shouldered build that would turn to fat when he got older. Lucia looked away from Elrik to the court, scanning the crowd.

She had learned most of the members now, the dukes and lords from Regis or other Kingdoms that gathered to drink and cavort. Lucia was only a minor piece; she still hadn’t gathered who was whose enemy and who could be an ally. She knew to trust Sherah, who they had confided the secret of Lucia’s identity and Jeanne’s mutilation to. But she had no idea what argument she might step into, whose private wars or alliances made up the court.

A familiar face warmed her heart as he stepped up at the edge of the performers. Bower was walking along the edge of the performers, stumbling like a drunk. At least Lucia hoped he was acting, she couldn’t be sure as he had a wine bottle in one hand. Elrik laughed at his antics though as he gracefully bumbled around into the performers, avoiding balls and clubs being juggled in the air. One man juggling knives threw a blade and it clipped off Bower’s funny patchwork hat.

He stopped and felt his balding head for the cap, a comically puzzled frown on his face. Lucia laughed as he pointed to the hat enjoyed. He stumbled over to it and bent to retrieve it only to fall on his face, an acrobat tripping over him and sprawling into two more acrobats. He put his hat on and stood, turning to the heap of people with a puzzled frown again. He just shrugged and took another pull from his bottle.

He made a sour face and then raised his face, spitting out a spew of fire into the air. The audience gasped and the fire faded quickly, Bower fanning his lips comically. Everyone laughed at his antics, but Drasir.

“Get off the stage fool,” Drasir growled to Bower.

“I am sorry majesty,” Bower said as he made a tipsy bow. He moved off and the jugglers and acrobats continued. Elrik however flagged him over grinning, Bower walking over to them. He made another clumsy bow, smiling at Lucia.

“I must say milady you are looking ravishing,” Bower said smoothly. “And you milord are dashing, I thank you both for your laughter.”

“You have a silver tongue for a fool,” Elrik said. “How would you like to lose it?” He slammed his dagger down on the table, Lucia knowing he was happy to have a new victim not angry at anything Bower had said.

“I’d hate to lose it milord,” Bower said nervously, or acting nervous. “Then I couldn’t tell any jokes.”

“Very well, tell me a joke,” Elrik said serious now. “If I laugh you can keep your tongue.”

“Very well,” Bower said. “What beats a Lirian whore?”

“I don’t know what?” Elrik asked fingering his dagger.

“Only her master of course,” Bower said and Elrik laughed.

“Very good fool,” Elrik said. “Another.”

Lucia was impressed by the flow of raunchy and dark jokes Bower gave then, Elrik laughing loudly at each. She even blushed at a few, which pleased Elrik even more. Elrik had a fair amount of wine already, his cheeks flushed.

“You can go off to your rooms now,” Elrik said drunkenly glaring at Lucia. “I’m not in the mood tonight, I have other arrangements.”

“Yes milord,” Lucia said. For Elrik other arrangements didn’t mean a mistress, it meant he was going to torture someone. She hoped it wouldn’t be Bower but telling by his jokes Elrik was probably going to let him live at least. She stood and left, bowing to Drasir and Cecelia as she left.

It was a relief to get out of the hot hall where court was held, and as she stepped out her two shadows followed her. Sir Bedivere of Sereaux was the third son of Count Sereaux, a wealthy Regarian noble. Lucia didn’t know where Sereaux was, or even how to spell it to find it on a map. Sir Bedivere was a holy knight of the Sect and had been assigned to protect Jeanne, swearing his loyalty to her as her champion.

The second was a Sect of Lun, Marie De Lorue. Lucia didn’t know her rank, but gathered she was another noble. She had also been assigned to Jeanne as a personal spiritual adviser; Lucia had never known a noble had so many people following them. She hadn’t been alone in months. Both the knight and Sect were perfect images of Regarians, fair skin and hair, bright blue eyes, and clothes that screamed wealth despite their occupations.

“You are not going to Elrik tonight milady?” Bedivere asked as they walked through the halls. She looked back at him, he always walked two steps behind her and it was a bit unnerving. She couldn’t be sure if he was relieved or disapproving. Marie never said a word; she was as silent as Lun.

“No Sir Bedivere he has dismissed me,” Lucia answered turning back to continue walking.

“I am sorry to hear that milady,” Bedivere said, but Lucia did not answer. Marie walked up next to her, her silence both unnerving and soothing. Her silence often seemed like she knew everything and so saw no need to speak.

Lucia ignored them both as she walked back to the women’s wing and to Jeanne’s rooms, leaving Bedivere outside with the other guards there. Marie followed her in, but only to the sitting room before she went off to the servant quarters. Lucia hurried to Jeanne’s room, locking the door behind her. Jeanne lay in bed looking less like the noble woman she had been.

Her skin was now ashen, her hair lank, and painfully thin. Bryony stood by her bed gently washing Jeanne’s face. Cicely and Viola sat by the fire playing Check looking bored. Now that Jeanne was married she didn’t need her maids of honor following her to swear on her purity. Bryony had also wanted them here to tend to Jeanne, to help keep her spirits high.

“You’re here?” Bryony said surprised.

“Elrik chose to torment someone else tonight,” Lucia answered. “How are you Jeanne?”

“The same,” Jeanne said tiredly. They had learned that the mage’s healing had been worse than just making Jeanne sterile. Urinating and menstruation were painful, her bleeding spotty and lasting weeks. It had killed her appetite, and even made it hard to move about. She was withering like a plant in winter.

“Have you eaten?” Lucia asked. “I can send for some food.”

“I am fine,” Jeanne snapped, rolling over in her bed. She didn’t like to be coddled. Lucia sighed heavily, knowing when not to push.

“Voila, can you help me undress?” Lucia asked.

“I’m not you’re servant, you’re ours,” Voila said crossly.

“Voila!” Bryony snapped. “I know you’re bored, but Lucia has taken the greatest burden. Help her get out of her gown, she can’t do it alone.”

Voila grumbled as she stood and joined Lucia behind the changing screen. Her grumbles stopped when she stripped Lucia of her gown and saw the bruises. Old and new bruises molted her skin from toe to shoulder, but Elrik had confined it to under her garments.

“Lucia…” Viola said horrified.

“I’m lucky,” Lucia said mildly. “Elrik doesn’t dare draw blood or he might lose his head and kill me accidentally. Of course that means he really thinks I’m Jeanne.”

“I’ll draw you a bath,” Viola said as she looked away, hurrying off to Jeanne’s private bath. Lucia drew a robe over herself before she stepped back out into the room, her bruises would distress Jeanne. She went to the bedside and took Jeanne’s hand in hers. On the nightstand Lucia saw a book, a big dusty tomb.

“Have you been reading milady?” Lucia asked, unable to read the spine or cover to know the title.

“Nicodemus has come by often to read to me,” Jeanne answered with a slight smile.

“Milady…” Lucia said starting to warn her, but Jeanne cut her off.

“It doesn’t matter anymore if I stay loyal,” Jeanne said fiercely. “I cannot bear children, I’m no longer in the spot light, I am no longer Jeanne Lonna Princess of the Mark!”

She drew the covers up over her head and Lucia stared at her shocked. All she had wanted was to protect Jeanne from harm, yet she had stolen Jeanne’s identity and crippled her. No wonder she hadn’t left her bed, Jeanne felt lost now without her title and status. Lucia had nothing she could say to Jeanne, the only thing that had kept her going was the knowledge she was protecting Jeanne. She stood and went to the bath, deciding to soak her troubles away.

A few days later Lucia was once again in the Queen’s solar during tea time. She spent much of her days here tittering over idle court gossip with the other women of court.

“I must say my dear you look much better after those sigils,” Cecelia said as she stirred her tea. “Much easier on the eyes.”

“Thank you, majesty,” Lucia answered. She was now sitting in Lilith’s chair, and Pricilla did not look pleased that she had taken her dead sister’s place. Cecelia didn’t seem to care as long as she had someone fawning over her. “You are looking radiant today my queen,” Lucia said, and Cecelia fluttered her eyes.

“Thank you…”

A clatter interrupted the Queen as the servant dropped a platter. The old Elmerian servant hurried to clean up and Cecelia glared at him across the room.

“Honestly!” Cecelia said disgusted. “What happened to that old servant? He was at least silent and polite.”

Lucia could say nothing as her throat suddenly closed with a lump of emotions. She had not seen Seth since the night Jeanne had been raped, and she feared he had left Cair Leone. Part of her was glad he did not have to see him, not after her nights spent with Elrik. Yet another part of her wanted to weep in his arms.

“I don’t know mother,” Pricilla answered. “He was Aunt Sherah’s servant.”

“Sherah,” Cecelia said shrilly. Sherah sighed and put her book down, walking over to the Queen’s table. “Where is that servant of yours?”

“I sent him away,” Sherah answered mildly. “I had a message I wished to send back to my late husband’s family. I could only trust Gray to carry it.”

“What message?” Cecelia asked crossly. “We needed that servant to serve tea. You had chosen a good one in that one.”

“I am sorry Cecelia, I had hoped your husband had better staff,” Sherah answered dryly. Cecelia flushed insulted and Sherah quickly bowed and left. Lucia had to wait and listen as Cecelia ranted on and on about Sherah. Pricilla nodded and agreed when she could, Lucia doing the same.

At last Cecelia decided to retire, having worn herself out over Sherah’s insult. Lucia quickly went in search of Sherah, Bedivere and Marie close behind. She wasn’t in her quarters nor in the library. Soon she was just wandering around looking for her, eventually she found her in one of the gardens. The autumn had changed the gardens, the trees already shedding leaves. The gardens were now bright oranges and reds, leaves carpeted the ground faster than the gardeners could tend to.

Sherah was sitting under an oak tree on a bench there, reading once again. Lucia went to her, but she didn’t even look up from her book.

“Nicodemus told me everything,” Sherah said and Lucia sat next to her on the bench.

“Is that why you sent Seth away?” Lucia asked.

“If you mean Gray no,” Sherah answered. “I knew what he was when I vouched for him to be a servant in the palace.”

“You planned to employ him?” Lucia asked.

“I wanted to see what he could do before I did,” Sherah answered. “He is quite good actually, bit unusual at times but he’s never been caught which is important.”

“You sent him off to kill someone,” Lucia whispered and Sherah put her finger to her lips. She glanced meaningfully at Bedivere and Marie who stood out of earshot.

“We do not know who might be listening,” Sherah said cautiously. “Yes, I did send him away for that purpose.”

“Who? Why?” Lucia asked.

“I sent him after the man that ordered my husband’s death,” Sherah answered.

“King Rue?” Lucia asked shocked.

“Of course not,” Sherah answered. “Son never ordered his brother’s death. Emperor Feng Loe ordered my husband’s death.”

“Emperor?”

“Lir has had the most kings of different houses in the history of the nine Kingdoms,” Sherah answered, sounding much like her son talking of history. “Rue is an old house, but they only grabbed the throne fifty years ago. The first family to be the kings of Lir was the Loe family. They had been called Emperors for most of the Cursed Age, until the kingdoms were united and they were changed to Kings.

“The Loe family supposedly died when they were over thrown in the early 100s, all the members massacred by the Wu family. Rumor had it a baby survived and was raised in secret out on the steeps. Feng is said to be the descendant of that family and has returned to claim his throne. He came to court, in rags and furs like any other steep man, fifteen years ago. He announced who he was and demanded King Wan to hand over his crown and throne.

“Wan laughed in his face and threw him out of the palace. Two days later my husband was killed. I heard Shu, Wan’s second son, died in a hunting accident. Son has no children; my son is now the next in line for the Lirian throne. Only I’ve heard rumors that Feng is in the Court of Whispers, I don’t know how he got in but my guess would be money. But he’s played his hand, now I know where he is and have sent my hunter after him.”

Lucia shivered at the cold tone in Sherah’s voice, like she didn’t care or cared so much she dare not feel a thing.

“Did you love him?” Lucia asked and Sherah looked at her with a raised eye brow.

“You mean Lon?” Sherah asked. “Yes and no, he was kind but cold at times, still as husbands go I felt I was lucky. He never beat me, never had a mistress or even whores. But the only thing he really loved was War; he could play that game all day long. He was always distracted by that game, a little like Nicodemus with his history.”

Lucia saw Sherah cared for her dead husband; it was a fair match but probably not love. There was no passion driving Sherah to order her husband’s death, only duty. She was justified more by the fact that Feng seemed like he could be a threat to Lir and King Son.

“Do you love him?” Sherah asked and Lucia looked at her to see her grinning at her knowingly. She felt a deep blush spread over her face and she looked at her hands.

“He’s nearly ten years old than me,” Lucia said embarrassed.

“He is still young, and women are often more mature than men,” Sherah said. “Seth is hard to read, under all that casual joking manor is a cold-blooded killer, and under that a lonely soul seeking warmth. He does everything he can to redeem life in his eyes; that is why he takes in those tortured animals. I think that was why he tried to take in you. Of course, you wouldn’t be sheltered; you are too brave for that.”

“I don’t feel very brave,” Lucia said feeling low. “I don’t feel worthy of him.”

Before she knew it, she was weeping in Sherah’s arms, the older woman stroking her hair lovingly. Lucia’s mother had only held her when she was a child; she still remembered the last time when she was four when she scrapped her knee. Her mother had held her and hummed to her just as Sherah did now. Self-loathing made Lucia cry more, like she was unworthy to be loved. She broke down completely, until she was lying in Sherah’s lap unable to cry anymore.

“Dear Lun what did he do to you,” Sherah said at last.

“I’m sorry,” Lucia said ashamed as she sat up. Sherah handed her a kerchief and she cleaned her face.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” Sherah said. She seemed on the cusp of saying something comforting but then changed her mind. “Come with me.” She stood, and Lucia followed her out of the garden.

“Where are we going?” Lucia asked.

“I think since you are living your life as a noble you should get the chance to see what we actually do,” Sherah answered. Lucia didn’t know what she meant, but she followed Sherah from the gardens and through the lower halls of the palace. They passed through several great halls full of paintings, sculptures, and tapestries; useless decorations of wealth that seemed to serve no purpose.

They headed towards the marble hall where often trials and meetings of state were held. Trials were rare in the kingdoms; usually a criminal was just hanged without an inquisition or assassinated if they were a noble. When they reached the doors, Lucia saw a good many knights before the entrance, telling her that a meeting was taking place. The knights didn’t stop Sherah as she pushed open the doors and entered the hall. Bedivere joined the other knights to stand guard, but Marie entered after Sherah.

Lucia followed, staring amazed at the polished green marble that covered the floor. Blue and green marble pillars supported a ceiling of paneled wood, mage lights shedding light down on the meeting. Lines of chairs sat in a semicircle around the far end of the hall where a table sat. About half the chairs were occupied by nobles, mostly Regarian but a few Hyrians, Lirians, Xinians, and Dridians were there as well.

Lucia was used to the rich apparel of the court, so she did not stare at the men in rich silks or heavy jewelry. There were no women here, but no one objected as Sherah and her walked down the aisle and sat in the front row. Lucia looked at the head table, there sat the King and the eight other representatives of the Nine Kingdoms.

Arian only glanced at his sister before turning back to pay attention to the cleric in the center of the room. The cleric was reading a dry legislature that Lucia couldn’t understand; he was a cleric of Cael and of the Iron Order. She looked back at the table, but she only knew one of the men there, Varas Lonelove.

“Varas became the mage’s representative after the King’s Wars,” Sherah said softly, Lucia barely hearing her under the droning of the cleric. “Myrddin sent him to watch over his daughter at court, of course Ileana was sent to seduce Arian. She succeeded in seducing him, but Cecelia got pregnant first and to marry Arian. Varas was livid, but he still has a place on the king’s council.

“Next to Varas is Lindir Roth Ai, Duke of the Sleeping Woods.” The man was Aldan, and very old, his long white beard and hair thinning and skin sagging. His long ears were full of hair, and he seemed to be asleep in his chair. “Arian chose him as the Aldan representative because of his age, and the Aldan agreed because of his age. An Aldan only looks old when they are close to death; still Lindir has lived for twenty years. He’s half deaf and blind though, I doubt he even knows where he is. Arian raises his hand for him when they vote on anything.

“Next to him is Gan Wu.” The Lirian man was in his prime, dressed in rich silk robes and a silk hat. He had a thin mustache which he was stroking as he listened to the cleric rapt. “He is the brother of Duke of Ren-oza. He likes young girls, younger than you.”

“Next to him is Huros Nejem, the King of Xin’s brother.” Huros was a fat man wrapped in many silken kaftans and his head wrapped in a turban. Jewels winked from his thick fingers on many rings, a few decorating his turban and kaftans. He was nodding off, his turban bobbing on his head as his head nodded up and down.

“He is King Nejem’s bastard brother; he was castrated so he could not sire children that could threaten the Xinian throne. The Xinians have the most bastards actually; the harem of the Court of Fortunes is the largest in the Kingdoms. A male born of the harem is castrated and made a guard or in some cases an adviser or emissary to the king.”

“On the other side of the king is Runn Brago, brother to the Duke of Volga.” The Hyrian was a young man, looking bored at these proceedings. He was dressed like any other Hyrian, baggy pantaloons, a tight vest, a tunic, and blue tattoos over his limbs. His black hair was done up in a topknot, a few strands framing his long face.

“Next to him is Urtha Tussock of the Mark.” Urtha was a great meaty man, looking to be a great warrior by his large hands and many scars. He wore mail under his tunic and was glaring at Arian occasionally. He looked to her and nodded, Lucia returning his greeting wondering if he knew Jeanne. They hadn’t spoken at court and she wondered why. “I’ve been told Urtha was sent here because he is a great warrior but has a low opinion of women. Rumors go he raped his wife and several other maidens. His brother, Count Tussock, asked the King of the Mark to send him where he could have access to whores.”

“Next is Borr Ulson, Baron of Van’s Fjord.” Borr was a thinning man but tall and wiry, his blonde hair thinning and long. His beard was plaited and straight, his face sagging with deep bags under his eyes. He wore shabby furs, some looking patchy; his silver pendants tarnished, and mail rusting. “His province is so poor Tyr didn’t mind sending him and he can’t be ransomed. I heard in the King’s Wars he succumbed to battle madness. The only reason he stopped was because he ran out of men to kill. He’s never been quite right in the head since.”

“Last is Eoin Dubghal, Duke of Dubghal.” The man was only half Daunish, his blue eyes and lighter skin telling of Regarian blood, but his hair was still blood red. He was in his middling years, his eyes intelligent and bright. He wore fine Daunish wool but cut in the Regarian style tunics in fashion at court now. “His mother was sent off for a marriage to a Regarian lord before the King’s Wars. His mother was sister to the old Duke of Dubghal, who died in the wars. Arian made him the duke over his cousin, though his cousin is his steward, and made him Daun’s representative on this council.”

Lucia had seen these men at court of course, as well as the many lords that had gathered here. The relations here were very complex it seemed, not just familial but political as well.

“Over there is the court scribe,” Sherah said as she pointed to the cleric asleep with a quill and paper before him on a desk. “He isn’t needed right now since the cleric is reading an old deposition from an old law. It is regarding the role the High King has played in the past.

“The way it works here is the council meets and they go over old laws to see what is needed and what isn’t. The Iron Order serves as judicial judges and law keepers over the kingdoms, enforcing the law and working it, but never making it. That is up to this council, though only Arian has the power overall.

“Now it is interesting to note that while each kingdom has its own laws and legislature made by each king, there are laws that encompass all nine. It is these laws that the High King makes, and since Arian took the throne most of those have concerned taxes. The High Throne never taxed the other kingdoms until the Regarians took the throne.”

“Doesn’t the king need the approval of the council to make such laws?” Lucia asked.

“Yes, but as you can see he controls at least half the council,” Sherah answered. “His power is not absolute of course; Lir, Dridia, and Xin hold a fair amount of power still and can resist him on some issues. Hyria is always a wild card, Runn likes to vote as he pleases, and his king doesn’t care one way or another as long as no foreigners enter the river lands. He makes things interesting a lot of the time.”

The cleric finished reading the report and half the room came awake mumbling and rubbing their eyes. The cleric bowed to the king and took a seat by the scribe.

“Right so as stated in the law the High King can be elected absolute power in a state of emergency,” Arian said, and Lucia felt her blood go cold.

“And I say we are not in such a state yet,” Varas answered.

“The Sect is threatened, mobs run wild, and there are riots in the streets,” Arian answered.

“What streets are these, I have yet to see any riots here,” Varas answered.

“There are reports of problems in the marchlands in Nyrgard,” Borr said, his tone forced as if he had to push out each word. “I’ve heard Rhodin bands have been disappearing there.”

“Rumors?” Varas scoffed. “I understand this cult has been gaining power, but a state of emergency will only embolden them.”

“I am against it as well,” Gan said mildly. “Lir has seen very little problems in our lands, should the emergency not cover all the kingdoms?”

“Now that is a lie,” Sherah whispered, her brow furrowed. “I’ve heard the cult is strong on the steeps.”

“Same here,” Runn said. “Hyria has not even seen any members in the river lands.”

“And what of the border you share with the Mark and Nyrgard?” Arian asked annoyed.

“Those lands hardly matter,” Runn said with a shrug. “This cult is not all encompassing as Gan said; I don’t think we need to call it an emergency.”

“But should we not consider it?” Huros said looking worried. “After all many died in the wedding, and I’ve heard this cult has spread to the slaves. It could lead to another uprising among the slaves; my kingdom would crumble especially with Zar Ne Zar rampaging over the sands. A state of emergency means you will send aid to us right majesty?”

“We will seek out this cult wherever it is milord,” Arian said, but Lucia suspected he didn’t care at all about Xin other than the jewels he could get from them; he’d just as likely make a deal with Zar Ne Zar as to fight him.

“Which you can do without a state of emergency being called,” Varas argued. “Is this not all moot? It is up to the Sect to see religious matters dealt with.”

“Not when those matters threaten the stability of the kingdoms,” Arian said coolly.

“And is that not your duty to oversee not bully majesty?” Urtha asked mildly and Arian glared at him.

“Have I not put the Mark in its place Lord Urtha?” Arian said coldly.

“Careful majesty, you may start more problems than you can deal with,” Urtha answered levelly. Arian’s eyes narrowed and flickered over the room, looking for decent. His eyes widened when he saw Lucia.

“Lady Jeanne,” he said silkily, and Lucia tried not to flinch. “What do you think of this matter? You heard the recitation of the law did you not? Let us hear what you have to say.”

It was a power play; he was trying to lessen Urtha’s power by using Jeanne. He expected her to side with him and make Urtha lose face by the fact one of the Mark’s royals was now a Drasir. Her heart pounding Lucia stood and took a few steps, so she was visible to everyone. She took a deep breath, and felt a strange calm settle over her, shapes dancing in the corner of her eyes.

“I think these members of the cult are very dangerous, they threaten our way of life and our homes. They wish to destroy all the great houses this is for sure. But if we declare war in such a way we only give them the stage they wish us to dance upon. Absolute power will only hinder you in your hunt majesty, is there not another law you can use to get what you need to fight them but not declare so publicly your plans for them?”

Arian did not look pleased she had disavowed his plan, but his eyes were calculating. She had at least given him an opening to leverage power, though it would not be absolute.

“Cleric, I want you to search the laws regarding witchcraft,” Arian said, and Lucia had the wild fear he suspected her of witchery. “There were laws written in the regards of hunting witches as I recall, I’d like to hear them. We meet on this matter next week to hear his findings. Dismissed.”

Lucia jumped as he banged a gavel and the lords all stood to leave. Pockets of conversations formed as lords gathered like minnows to feed, talking over what was said. Lucia froze as Arian came up to her, too scared to even move. Then she felt Sherah’s hand on her arm, the older woman standing next to her.

“So, you brought her here Sherah,” Arian said as he crossed his arms. “Why?”

“I thought to distract her from her husband’s beatings,” Sherah said mildly.

“Strange entertainment Sherah,” Arian answered and then he looked at Lucia. “I do not like being crossed Lady Jeanne.”

“Things weren’t going your way Arian,” Sherah answered. “And absolute power would only make your head too big for your crown. She gave you the opening you needed to try something else.”

“Don’t bring her here again Sherah,” Arian said about to turn away, but stopped and looked back at Lucia. “I will talk to Elrik about your treatment.”

“No!” Lucia said, and Arian looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Majesty he will only beat me more if you talk to him.”

Arian made a face, he knew his son well.

“Perhaps if you let him do something constructive?” Sherah suggested.

“There has been an influx of prisoners we need information from,” Arian said nodding. “I need the little toad out of my way. He can go to the prison and question prisoners; that should make him a little more docile.”

“Thank you, majesty,” Lucia said genuinely relieved. Arian looked her up and down, examining her, but not leering.

“And, how are you?” he asked in a very subtle manor. He meant was she pregnant yet, but Lucia still did not know. Her bleeding had not come this month, but it could be late or just skipping.

“I don’t know yet majesty,” Lucia answered.

“I will send a mage to examine you then,” Arian answered. “I will tell you this Jeanne; I hope your child will be a little more cunning than my own children.”

It was the closest he would come to admitting he would rather name an unborn babe heir than Elrik, though Elrik was legally the heir at the moment. If he named Anton or Nicodemus heir, the power of the High Throne could shift to Dridia or Lir. Arian turned and left, Sherah taking her arm and leading her away. Marie ghosted behind them and Bedivere joined them at the door.

“You didn’t tell him the truth,” Lucia said as they walked out of the hall.

“I saw no point in doing so,” Sherah answered. They both stopped when Ileana stepped in their path, the silver on her dress chiming musically.

“Milady Sherah, Milady Jeanne,” she said nodding to them both.

“Lady Ileana, a pleasure to see you,” Sherah said with a fake smile. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I had hoped to help Lady Jeanne conceive,” Ileana answered. “Or at least to see if she is already with child.”

“Thank you but my brother has already offered to send a mage,” Sherah answered coolly. “Now if you’ll excuse us I’m afraid Jeanne is not feeling well.”

Sherah hurried her away, Lucia looking back over her shoulder to see Ileana glaring after them. Varas stepped up behind her and began speaking to her, but they turned a corner before Lucia could see more.

“Are those two seeing each other?” Lucia asked. “Varas and Ileana?”

“No, Varas’ taste runs on the other side of gender and age,” Sherah answered. “He prefers young boys.”

“How do you know all these things?” Lucia asked startled, surely that secret was very well kept.

“Spies,” Sherah answered. “The Court of Whispers in Shin-Ra is aptly named. I inherited a few spies after my husband died and put them to work here in the Court of Miracles. So, you know, I am always keeping an eye on you.”

Lucia shivered a little, seeing the similarity then between Sherah and her brother. She was not ruthless like Arian, but she was cunning and had a wit that should not be trifled with. Sherah took her leave with a kind word and a kiss, going off towards the library. Lucia left to seek some comfort of a nap before the ordeal of dinner again.

That night however as she lay in Elrik’s bed she dreamed. She hadn’t dreamed in months, since Elrik beat her almost every night she often fell into a dreamless stupor. Now as she walked through the mist she felt almost washed clean by the veil. Feeling almost light Lucia walked through the mist and past the burning tree. As she walked through the trees she saw movement and quickly hid.

Once again she saw the Elven King walking through the trees in the form of a great stag. As Lucia watched however he changed to his more human form. He turned and looked into the trees and there Lucia saw a procession walking towards him. Riding great white unicorns were his elven kin. Lucia could hardly look upon them they were so beautiful, their features noble, serine, and grand.

The king mounted a unicorn, smiling at one of the women of the group kindly. His love for his people shown on his face, like the love a father gave to his children and grandchildren. He turned and the procession started off into the woods, the unicorn’s cloven hooves soundless and leaving a trail of fresh growing flowers in their wake. Lucia sadly watched the last of them disappear into the trees, before a sharp pain woke her.

Opening her eyes she looked up at Elrik kneeling over her. She groaned as he hit her thigh again with a clenched fist.

“I said open your legs whore!” Elrik hissed between clenched teeth. Lucia complied and he took her hips in his hands and pulled her to him. Lucia kept her eyes open; staring at a point just over Elrik’s left shoulder. He didn’t like her closing her eyes when he took her. The pain was a dull throb to her now, Lucia was numb to him. Her only solace was that Elrik finished quickly. He rolled off her and went to his washroom. Lucia turned her head to see sunlight streaming through the curtains, it was already morning.

She sat up and listened to Elrik washing, waiting for her chance to do the same. She thought it strange that she had lost her virginity to such a man. She had hoped to have lost it to Seth; he had stolen her first kiss after all. And yet Seth was no different than Elrik, he had more blood on his hand and unlike Elrik he killed men personally. Though Elrik had ordered Jeanne’s death and caused Egram’s, it had been Seth who had performed the act.

All the same Lucia wished it were Seth who had just finished with her and was washing in the other room. Elrik finished and came out to dress, not even glancing at Lucia. She stood and went to the washroom; he had left it a mess. She ignored the mess and washed quickly. When she came out Elrik was gone already. She sighed as she dressed, having learned to don the heavy gowns alone. She couldn’t lace them completely, but she could perform the task well enough, so the dress would stay on.

She left Elrik’s rooms, heading for Jeanne’s. Women bedded with men at court, but they kept their own rooms, to preserve some of their own dignity and power. Of course, Jeanne was taking full advantage of this by remaining in her own rooms. The women’s quarters were in the west wing of the palace along with the queen’s solar. Bedivere wasn’t with her; even he had to sleep and was in his own rooms somewhere in the palace. Lucia was walking through the halls from Elrik’s rooms, when Cicely came running up to her.

“Milady, Voila needs your help!” Cicely said, her cheeks flushed and eyes wild. Lucia quickened her pace and Cicely followed.

“What happened?” Lucia asked, wondering if Cicely was referring to Jeanne when she said Voila.

“Just hurry,” Cicely moaned. “This way is faster.”

Lucia just followed Cicely as she went down a servant’s hall, down some stairs, and out into the gardens. She didn’t question Cicely’s choice; sometimes cutting through the gardens was faster. They passed through a barrow of rose bushes and Lucia stopped at the sight of Anton standing in the center of the barrow. Lucia leapt back as he activated a sigil on the ground, lines of power glowing as the sigil activated. Lucia just barely avoided the trap, but Cicely was captured.

“Damn, I thought I got you,” Anton muttered.

“You aren’t very original milord,” Lucia answered glad she had seen his trick before. “Let Cicely go.”

“Why should I?” Anton said. “She failed to lead you into the trap.”

Lucia looked to Cicely and saw then that a sigil was drawn lightly around her throat. Anton had commanded her to lead her away; he must have caught her when she went out on an errand for Jeanne.

“I’m sorry,” Cicely said as a tear slid down her cheek. Lucia shook her head, Cicely had betrayed a double, not Jeanne; she owed nothing to Lucia. She shook her head, unable to say anything lest she reveal the truth. Anton activated the sigil around her throat and Cicely made no noise as it began to choke her.

“Please stop!” Lucia shouted.

“Only if you submit to me,” Anton answered. Lucia knew he had sigils to make sure he would get her with child, and when she bore a mage everyone would know the truth. Lucia looked at Cicely, her eyes were bulging, her face turning blue, but she had enough strength to shake her head. Though Lucia was not Jeanne, she was to be the one to bear the heir to the throne; it could not be Anton’s.

“She is a noble of the house Sinistra!” Lucia shouted. “One of the great dukes of the Mark. You cannot just murder her! I will take this matter to the king.”

“Take it to him then,” Anton answered unconcerned. “She will still be dead.”

Cicely didn’t collapse because Anton’s sigil still held her, but her eyes had rolled back in her head. Lucia watched pained as her body shuddered and she died, her face purple and skin swollen. Anton let both sigils go and Cicely fell to the ground dead. Anton grinned as he walked over to her, Lucia tensing to flee. She felt it first, a change in the air she couldn’t explain, and Anton felt it too because he whirled around.

A sigil in the shape of a tiny sun flew out of the rose bushes and caught Anton in the shoulder, sending him flying back. He landed on the ground groaning, the sigil having done little damage other than stunning him. Lucia looked to where the projectile had come from and saw Varas just stepping out of the bushes. He looked annoyed and disgusted as he walked over to Anton.

“A real Myrddin could have drawn a counter to that before I even drew mine,” Varas said with mild rebuke. He looked up at Lucia and she flinched at his burning red eyes. He looked at her so deeply Lucia feared he could see through her into her real identity. “I am sorry milady Jeanne for my countryman’s murder of one of your handmaidens. He was wrong to have attacked you so.”

Lucia had suspected Varas behind Anton trying to seduce Jeanne, maybe he had been, but he did not seem the type to try such heavy-handed methods. And telling by how angry he was, he did not approve of this latest tact.

“I demand compensation milord Varas,” Lucia answered in her best impression of Jeanne’s high anger.

“I will send Anton away to Myr,” Varas answered. “I think it time he had some proper education in his sigils, his mother will go with him. Is that to your liking?”

“I’ve lost much in the death of my friend Lord Varas,” Lucia said. “I would like to ask for his head, but I know that will never happen. Instead, is there a sigil that you can cast that will protect a child in the womb?”

“There is,” Varas answered and stepped forward. “If I may? I can see if you have a child yet already.”

“Procced,” Lucia said, knowing she took a risk, but Varas dare not harm her after Anton had tried to. Varas drew a sigil over her belly watching the invisible powers for a moment before nodding.

“Congratulations,” he said simply, and Lucia felt her heart skip a beat. “I will cast the protection sigil after you have had time to mourn. I will send a servant to tend to her body.”

“Lord Varas,” Lucia said, and he stopped from turning away from her. “I will remember your aid well, and perhaps in the time to come we can reach an agreement of some kind.”

“I might hold you to that Lady Jeanne,” Varas said warningly.

“I hope you do Lord Varas,” Lucia answered. “I know I can trust you as long as you stand to gain something from me. I trust you more than my husband.”

“Very well,” he answered with a dangerous grin. “Go, you must mourn your loss. I will take care of things here.”

“See that her body is sent to the stables,” Lucia answered. “I will send someone to accompany her home.”

Varas nodded and Lucia walked over to where Cicely lay. She kissed her once on the forehead before heading out of the garden. She hurried back to Jeanne’s room, getting there just as she began to weep. She stumbled to Jeanne’s room, ignoring Marie who looked at her startled. She collapsed into a chair, Bryony hurrying over to her concerned.

“Was Elrik rough last night?” Bryony asked worried.

“No more than usual,” Lucia said shaking her head, her voice thick with tears. “Anton killed Cicely.”

“What?” Jeanne said from her bed. Voila gasped and tried to keep Jeanne in bed as she stood up. Lucia felt sad to see her so thin, she had once been in excellent condition, but her pain had stripped her of her muscle and strength. Lucia told the tale through her tears and her talk with Varas.

“You should not have made such a promise to such a man in my name!” Jeanne said. “You should have demanded Anton’s head.”

“His is the king’s bastard and a prince of Dridia,” Lucia said. “Arian would not take his head for a lowly Duke’s daughter from the Mark. You know this Lady Jeanne; I got what I needed to protect you.”

“You mean protect yourself,” Jeanne said hotly.

“When I bear you this child you will be safe Jeanne!” Lucia said. “You can take the beauty sigils and take your place in court again. Once there is a child to be the heir you will not need to bear anymore children.”

“Only if you bear a son,” Jeanne said.

“Then until I do you do not need to take your place again. I cannot protect you forever milady, this child is the only thing that will.”

Jeanne only looked sour; she wanted blood for the death of Cicely. Lucia felt sad she was dead, but she was practical enough to see the reality of it. Anton would not be killed and demanding his death would only mean she could not ask for some other boon lest she seem shallow.

“Voila, will you accompany her home?” Jeanne asked and Voila gasped.

“Milady I cannot leave you alone,” Voila said.

“I would go too but my duty keeps me here,” Jeanne said. “Please go, I cannot bear anything more happening to my friends.”

“Yes milady,” Voila said saddened and lowered her head. Jeanne took her hand and they went to pack Voila’s things, along with Cicely’s.

“Congratulations,” Bryony said to Lucia.

“It is not my child,” Lucia said her hand going to her belly.

“I will see you are made the child’s wet nurse,” Bryony said kindly. Lucia only stared off at nothing, not sure she wanted that or not. She could not be the child’s mother, could not risk telling it the truth. She thought of the man that had force it into her, and the man she wished had been the child’s real father; all she felt was lost.

#fairies #fantasy #series #dragoon #writing #please read

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