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vacantgodling · 20 days ago

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as stated, much of these are placeholder names, ideas, and concepts—this is just doing something fun for fun

chapter 1: the march hare runs

As March tore through the woods—she really had to wonder, what was wrong with this picture here?

She was a princess of Nectaria, one of the most prosperous kingdoms in all the land! And here she was, tripping over her own two feet, covered in mud, debris and even some of her own blood, trying to escape the shouting guards that had somehow caught up to her only a few days removed from her flight.

“I thought—” She huffed aloud, nearly missing tripping over an overgrown Glowtree root. “—That I had given myself—” She tripped over a second Glowtree root that had sprung up, deglowed, so nearly invisible in the dark. Face planting in the dirt, she didn’t even bother to finish her sentence, letting out an enraged huff that blew her messy hair out of her eyes. She planted her hands firmly in the ground, mud and clay squelching between her fingers, almost making her want to gag—the sensation was awful, to push herself up into an all-fours position.

“I think she went this way!”

“Get her!”

“Shit!”

March didn’t linger for much longer. She pushed herself back up to her feet, taking off downhill into the deep woods before her, praying that her tracks would be covered by the darkness that was ever lingering here; only ever illuminated by luminescent plants like Glowtrees and lumen flowers. She wasn’t sure how close to the border she was—any border, really. And that would be a problem. All of her papers and identification she left back in the palace, not thinking about it in her haste to just leave. If she was smarter, she would’ve left sooner. But no one thought that Princess March Hare of Nectaria was smart. They thought she was pretty. They thought she was kind. They thought she was a bit ditzy, or airheaded—and apparently that she… smelled good? That’d been the first thing to absolutely weird her out regarding her recently (forcibly, she would add) betrothed future-husband; the Prince of Doffensdu. He had taken a lock of her hair between his fingers, smelled it, and then with the most sickeningly disgustingly lecherous smile that anyone in all the lands could muster, he uttered that she smelled good. Divine, really, that was the word he’d used, but it still made her skin crawl.

Her elder brothers, Jan (short for January) and Feb (short for February—yes, with all 12 of them her parents had been remarkably original) had laughed at her. But they didn’t have to worry about marriages, at least not yet. They had been pathed to their militia and scholastic academies, since the two of them (unless, heaven forbid, something happened to them) were slated to become candidates for the next ruler of Nectaria, and they needed experience before their father stepped down from the crown and retired. But for the daughters and youngest sons? Oh no, it was all about alliances now—and as the third child, and unfortunate, unlucky eldest daughter—since the time she was fourteen, March had been introduced to suitor after suitor. Candidate after candidate. And frankly, if you asked her? They all were awful! Either too old, or far too young. Too boring, too plain, or too stuffy. Or, like the one her father had finally, finally settled on, too… weird! Everyone had their kinks and preferences to be sure; March was no prude, and she had a few of her own—but that’s certainly not how she would lead a conversation with someone she just met, nor one she planned to marry!

Regardless—she knew that her father wanted the best for her. She never doubted her father’s love—and surely in his mind, securing his eldest daughter’s future with a prince of Doffensdu was, on paper, extremely advantageous. Their kingdom was rich in ore and traded goods from the sea; being coastal, while Nectaria was located extremely far inland so it had access and was a hub for all the land trades. Having the two kingdoms combined through marriage meant an opportunity for more strategic and safer roads—things that March learned in her economic scholasticship, since her tutors knew she would be the most likely daughter to secure an advantageous trade marriage. And March had been fine with literally all of those things on paper. She knew her place as a princess, and she knew that just as people paid taxes, she was a bargaining chip for resources for her subjects.

But she just didn’t want to marry someone so… off!

Of course, she thought as she ran through the dim forest, tripping every few feet due to the low visibility, It is selfish of me to kick up such a fuss about this. Because she knew that many others didn’t have, well, the freedom to be spoiled like she knew she was being. And of course, she wasn’t only running away from this betrothal to a, probably decent man, just because he smelled her hair weirdly one time. Sure, he did make her uncomfortable whenever they were in a room together beyond that—though her sister below her, and closest confidant, April, assured her that she was just building him up to be some terrible guy in her head because she had a complex about getting married. Well, maybe she did! What was wrong with that? She knew that once she was wed that she’d be expected to perform…. wifely duties, and as a young maiden of just 23, that didn’t sit right with her!

March wanted to explore the world beyond the palace walls; educate herself in the lands beyond Nectaria’s rolling fields and bustling markets. Each new trinket that she could find from some far off place in one of the tiny corner stalls at the bazaar outside the palace, was another piece of the puzzle of the grand world just outside of her doorstep. But a queen couldn’t travel freely; she would be a kept woman, bound by duty, and state, and children, and more besides… and well. That terrified her! She was not so stupid to admit it! And so, she’d stolen out, just three weeks from her proposed wedding day, and disappeared without a trace.

Or so she thought.

She didn’t know what part of her plan went wrong. Did the note she left on her door dislodge? Or were there sightings of her among those in town? She wasn’t planning on staying away forever… probably. She did have a plan… One that did fall mostly apart after she lost her map in a swamp, was robbed just outside the kingdom’s walled border, and now this—stumbling through the darkness in mud and woods as she tried to put distance between herself and her captors. She needed somewhere to stop, to think…

And then—a stroke of luck.

March’s racing thoughts about all that transpired to land her racing like a little hunted rabbit through the forest, came to a screeching halt when she cleared all the glowing foliage and skidded into a clearing. All around her the trees loomed over the surrounding landscapes; their thick canopies obscuring light of the moon overhead; but the lumen flowers underfoot still bringing a soft shine to the surrounding wilderness. Not a single thing moved in this clearing; there was no wind in the grass or through the trees, no animals overhead or underfoot. Nothing but a chilling, eerie silence.

And in the middle of it all, stood a tower.

March stared, her thoughts quieting for a moment. Then they slowly began to churn, faster and faster as she slowly approached it. It appeared to be made of all manner of materials: wood, stone, brick, clay, terracotta, glass… harder to discern the further she peered up at the structure. The tower was narrow at some points…. but then March wandered around the base of it and it seemed to go around for miles at the same time. It took her nearly 40 paces to get around the length of the tower on one side, but that seemed far too wide for a structure that seemed so thin as it appeared. She couldn’t make out it’s spire, but she almost imagined that it pierced the clouds—if somehow the night swallowed it like it had.

A yell in the distance made her jolt out of her curiosity. Fear makes haste. So she quickly approached the base of the tower again, feeling around until she could try and find some sort of door or opening to hide herself in; at least for a moment. But no such door—one you could push, nor one you could pull, could March feel. In an act of desperation she began to test some of the sides of the walls, seeing if there were any pushed out or loosened stones she could use to grapple onto the side of the building, racing around the structure as fast as the panic in her throat would let her. But to no avail.

Except—she found something better.

Right as she was certain that the guards looking for her would descend upon her (as the noises in the woods as she searched the tower grew closer, and closer), she felt something coiled and sturdy, almost rope-like. What she didn’t see was the trapdoor that the “rope” had fallen down from as she circled away from this side of the tower only a few moments before. March only took a split second to make a decision: she had always been a decent climber. And now it was time to put those skills to the test.

March hiked herself up, wrapping both hands around the rope to begin to scale the wall free tethered. She could absolutely die if she fell the higher she climbed, but in her frenzied mind, it seemed better than getting caught. Until, suddenly, a snap sounded in the silence of the night; louder than any other noise that she heard near or far since she entered the clearing, and even louder than the sounds of the far off soldiers that would surely now come this way.

But it didn’t matter. Because with the sound of the snap, the “rope” unraveled only just, where March’s hands gripped it, ensaring her in its grasp and yanking her up the tower like a sandbag cut loose from a boat, and through the trap door whence it came, slamming shut with a thunderclap behind her, drowning out her startled scream.

#s: tower haunt #ren writing #it’s something!

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