Chapter 1: The Ill Favored Clove

“Clover! It’s time for supper!” An eleven-year-old girl with blonde hair, raised her head from a field of daffodils and began running towards her mother’s voice. Lips thin and uneven, a protruding nose that was narrower than a match, (it was wonder how she could breathe at all), accompanied by arched, slightly bushy eyebrows.

Seeing her little girl running to the house, Regina sighed with her palms on her hips. It would only be eight more years before Clover would wed the prince and Regina loathed the day. If it wasn’t for the determined donkey who threatened her and always kept to his promises, Regina would’ve ran. She always did and she did it quite well. But with an eleven-year-old. That would be too much.

“Mommy, I saw a huge field of dandelions!” Clover shared excitedly as she reached her mother. Nodding with interest they walked inside. While Regina made Clover a plate, Clover rambled on. “I was going to blow on each of them but I know how you say that if I do, that would be making a wish. So I wanted to save the wishes for someone who truly needs it.” Regina turned with a soft smile, putting down a plate of spiced corn and a piece of meat pie.

Clover was such an innocent and creative soul. Regina’s smile fell into a frown. She’d have to nip it in the bud. Clover needed to toughen up. Nobody was going to care about her feelings when they spitefully tease, or whisper insults. As a queen, that’s all they’re going to do. Regina had to make her aware of the world and the people that came with it. But she couldn’t bear to do it right now though.

When she's old enough, Regina reasoned in her head before nodding in confirmation.

SIX YEARS HAVE PASSED and Clover had gotten older, towering her own mother in height by an inch or two. Her hair, which resembled the color of a darkening sun, had grown to her waist in wavy strands.

Her figure that resembled a malnourished scarecrow was limber and surprisingly flexible, although she did not carry much strength.

Regina was proud of the woman Clover was becoming. She was inquisitive, intelligent and was fond of reading, although she detested writing. Though despite the many changes occurring in the young woman, to Regina’s dismay, she was not becoming any prettier.

As Clover peered out the window with her two hands acting as binoculars, Regina sighed in shame at the way she had brought her up.

With her two oldest sons, although Regina was kind, they were brought up to never be as gullible as their little sister. She was harsh on them when it came to their training and their war strategizing lessons.

Everyone’s an enemy. A phrase she had made sure to instill in their brains from the moment they started to walk.

But most nights— every night, she wondered if it was that mentality that got them killed. If she had taught them the importance of picking their battles, instead of the importance of being strong, maybe they would’ve hid. Maybe they would’ve chosen each other and escaped.

Maybe they would still be here till this day.

Those thoughts ran rampant in her brain, so much so she couldn’t make the same mistake again. Not with her only living child.

So she was permissive to Clover’s fantasies and her need to see the good in everything and everyone. But it was that permissiveness she knew one day would have dire consequences.

Seeing a male figure approach from the hill, Clover raced from her post and out of the door. Regina sighed disappointingly.

“Hi John!” She greeted with a smile. The guard who had brung them food for the past seventeen years gave her a warm smile.

“It’s like every week I come, the bigger you get!” he exclaimed, giving her the basket filled to the brim with food.

“I’m going to be eighteen soon!” She shared with a smile as they walked to the house.

“Mother says that when I do, I’ll finally get to visit the village!” Pity ran circles in John’s stomach, soon urging him to throw up. A girl of Clover’s intelligence should already be in finishing school. A girl of Clover’s age should be hanging out with friends! Not waiting every week for a middle-aged man, ordered to deliver food to come so she could have someone besides her mother to talk to.

“John?”

Shaking his head out of thoughts that would surely get him killed, he hummed in acknowledgment.

"Are the king and prince kind?” John wanted to laugh. The prince and king shouldn’t even be considered for a sentence with kind in it. The prince was a heartless, spoiled brat and a king had a high lust for blood. Don’t even get him started on the queen for he could write articles about her wrath.

He wanted to explain all of their traits to the princess, give her some sort of heads up. But bad mouthing any member of the royal family was illegal.

So with a blank tone, he said, “Just don’t get your hopes up, ok? Keep them as low as possible if you can.”

Clover wanted him to elaborate but didn’t bother. The sentence was clear enough.

Waiting at the door, Regina, though aged, was still extremely beautiful. A fickle seductress who had caused a war.

The grace of a queen and the mark of a whore was entangled in her hickory eyes which held so much hate. Many people used to mistake the color of her hair that was shaded a light fawn as an indication of holiness. An omen that she was the carrier of light.

But it was her eyes that always betrayed the person she really was: an ambitious snake. Not only ambitious, but bloodthirsty.

John felt sad that a soul as beautiful as Clover’s was hidden because of her mother’s sins.

Seeing John, Regina’s jaw clenched in disdain. John the butcher. John the huntsman. Once loyal to her husband, yet now a yes man to his killer.

If it wasn’t for Clover, she would’ve killed him on the spot. Something she attempted when Clover was younger with an axe, but a plan quickly demolished at the sight of other men.

Their house used to be surrounded with guards. A simple package delivery like this consisted of five men instead of one.

But as Clover grew, Regina began to be seen as docile. A fact John knew was not true at all. But if there was one thing Regina would be good at, is saving face in front of her child.

So they were polite for Clover’s sake.

“The king has a message for you,” John said. Steam might as well come from Regina’s nose at the mention. No message from the King is ever good.

"Tell him I don’t want it.” Clover gasps.

“You can’t refuse a message from the king!” The young woman says aghast, turning towards her mother. To her, the king was the one who had granted her mother and her safety from the people who wanted to kill them. Who had killed her father.

“The princess is right.” Regina rolled her eyes.

“Clover, put that in the kitchen,” Regina directed. Wanting to hear the message, she opened her mouth before Regina shut her down. “Grown-up business.”

“I’m going to be eighteen soon,” she argued.

“But you aren’t yet, so-”

“The king said he would like the princess to be present too,” John lied. He liked the rise of red flushing Regina’s face. Clover smiled and turned in the doorframe towards John.

“Well, spit it out,” Regina said impatiently.

“Your first meeting with the King will be a dinner hosted at the castle.”

“Private?”

“A feast seen by all.”

Happiness mixed with anxiety flowed through Clover. Public! People! She’d finally meet other people! Talk to other people besides her mother and John.

“Does that mean they don’t want to kill us anymore!” John opened his mouth but Regina swiftly cut him off.

“Unpack the groceries. Now.” Clover slowly nodded before doing what she was told.

Regina swallowed rigidly and slammed the door in the guards face. Her fist tightened into balls, erratic with the urge to completely destroy.