Beautiful Traitor

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Of course, there weren’t always fae on the throne either. And as much as Aesira hated the fae, she knew that her survival depended on their favor. Unlike most humans, the fae found Aesira’s presence at the palace tolerable. They liked their pretty things.

Or at least they pretended to when the pretty little thing was under their king’s protection.

Aesira had been just a child when the fae flew into her kingdom on their mighty beasts – when King Damian lost his head and the streets became fire. She hadn’t had much before the kingdom fell to the fae. Just her mother who had worked in the palace kitchens and the happiness only children possess. Aesira and her mother had lived together at the palace in the servants quarters. She didn’t know much about her father, but then again, neither had her mother.

Then one day, the beat of mighty wings filled the air like thunder. The palace archers could do little against the dragons. Their arrows were not strong enough to penetrate the thick scales of the creatures, and their skin was not strong enough to withstand being bathed in the creatures’ ungodly flames.

Aesira had been scrubbing laundry in the great basins of rose scented water when the screaming had begun.

At first, she hadn’t thought anything of it. Probably just the guards getting in some kind of squabble. But then a guard had burst through the door, the smell of his blood somehow overpowering the smell of the roses, and then collapsed. Aesira had started to run to the man when the older woman who supervised the royal laundry grabbed her by the arm. Usually the woman only ever acknowledged her with distaste and complained about how a child was more of a burden in the laundry than a help, but in that moment she looked uncharacteristically protective. “You must leave the palace. Don’t stop for anyone, just run”. Then the woman had led her to the wall and pressed on a panel that then slid open to reveal a stone passage, probably used for the maids to deliver the clothes to various sections of the palace. Aesira had looked back at the fallen guard one more time before turning and running up the roughly carved stone stairs. She thought the woman would follow her, but then the passage became dark. When she looked back, the passage had been closed. She was alone. The dark was so thick she could almost taste it. She stumbled up endless stairs wondering where the passage was taking her. All she could think about was her mother. Had any of the screams she had heard belonged to her mother? Had she been told to run as well? Was she even still alive?

The stone walls of the passage must have been very thick because all she could hear was the pounding of her feet on the endless steps and her own uneven breathing. It was so silent that she could hear her thoughts as they raced through her head.

Finally, she reached the end of the cavern. She didn’t see it coming because there was no light and had run face first into what felt like a wooden door. She felt around but couldn’t find a handle. Panic took over. What if this wasn’t an exit? If that were the case, she would have to run all the way back down and hope that whatever had injured that guard wasn’t waiting for her at the bottom.

She started throwing herself against the wood. Pain raced through her shoulder but she kept going. With each slam she became more desperate, the pain barely noticeable through her panic. She didn’t know if the warmth running down her cheeks was blood or tears. Finally, the wood creaked and dust rained down on her. She threw herself against it again causing more dust to fall but feeling the wood budge a little further. After several more painful shoves, light started streaming in along the edges of the wood. The light wasn’t bright enough to indicate that she was outside, so she assumed the passage had just taken her to another section of the palace as she had originally suspected. That was when she realized that it wasn’t quite a door, but a panel like the one she had come through at the bottom of the passage. She would have to slide the wooden panel out of her way.

There was just enough room for her to wriggle her fingers around the edge of the panel. Once she had as much of a grip as the space would allow, she angled her body and started pulling the heavy slab to the side. Although it wasn’t easy, sliding the thick wooden panel wasn’t nearly as hard as pushing it out had been. It made a soft grinding sound as she slowly pulled the gap wider and wider until there was finally enough of a space for her to squeeze through.

She could hear screaming in the distance, but it sounded far enough away that whatever part of the palace she was about to enter wouldn’t put her in any immediate danger. Taking a deep breath, she slid her small body out of the passage and found herself in some kind of living quarters. Lovely tapestries depicting flowers in the springtime and woodland creatures in the forest hung on the walls. The rug on the ground was plush and on another end of the room was a large intricately carved vanity with an extensive spread of jeweled perfumes and oils. Something was off about the room though. There seemed to be a fine layer of dust coating everything. She took a few more steps into the chamber towards a large window that spanned from the floor to the ceiling. Maybe the view would give her a hint as to which wing of the castle she was in. She knew the grounds well as she often ran errands around the castle and sometimes even to the market just outside the massive walls that surrounded the royal grounds.

What she saw when she looked through that window was nothing like she had ever seen before. The city was on fire, but even more horrifying, were the beasts that swarmed the sky. They were larger than any creature she had ever seen before with metallic black scales that reflected the orange light of the fires they soared over. And their wings! They resembled the wings of a bat with their membranous texture and the long talon that grew from the tip, but the sheer size of them made it hard to compare. And at the end of their long necks were long slender snouts that when open revealed row upon row of razor sharp teeth. She watched as one dove towards the street and snatched a panicked man off the ground and sunk its horrible teeth into his body, and then the creature swallowed the man whole. She wanted to look away from the horror but didn’t turn away in time to miss that same creature open its maw again and blast a huge column of fire through its gore smeared jaws.

She stumbled away from the window, not able to watch the stricken villagers burn to death. She needed to focus and figure out where she was so she could find her mother and get to safety. Wherever that might be. She decided to move to the next room in the chamber. There was a closet that was full of the most gorgeous dresses. Some of fine silk or the softest velvets, and others beaded with what appeared to be real gemstones. Again, there was dust covering all the fine things.

Then she turned the corner into what appeared to be a sitting room. Plush couches and chairs were placed around the room. There were also lovely vases decorating the small reading tables in the corners of the room. The stems of the long dead flowers the vases once displayed still sticking out of the tops. Then she saw the painting. It depicted a handsome man with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. He couldn’t have been more than thirty years old. And then next to the man was a beautiful woman with long hair that fell in loose golden honey curls. She had soft green eyes and was looking up at the man in such a way that even through the painting you could tell how much she loved him.

That’s when she knew where she was. The man in the painting was King Damian himself, just a younger version of the king she knew. The younger happier version that hadn’t been turned cold by the loss of his beloved wife and queen. She died in childbirth, the child also falling into death’s cold hands that very same day.

She must be in the queen’s chambers. Apparently, the king had declared that no one was allowed to enter the room after the tragedy and so here it stood, frozen in time. She felt a chill go up her spine knowing that she was probably the first person to enter the room since the body of the queen and heir had been removed all those years ago. She had to get out.

She had little hope that her mother would still be in the kitchens, but that was the only place she could think to go. Aesira quickly found her way out of the room, but not before catching a glimpse of herself in one of the dusty mirrors. Even through the years of dust and grime she could see that she looked horrible. Her simple servants dress stuck to her small frame with sweat and was covered in dirt and dust. She had a dried stream of blood running down her face where she had hit her head at the end of the passage and her raven black hair was wild and dirty. It didn’t matter though, she would probably die anyways. Between the creatures outside and whatever monstrosity in the castle had hurt the guard, she was probably lucky to have made it this far.

With that thought she left the queen’s eerie chambers and started towards the kitchens. She could still hear the screams from the city and from within the castle, but she had to move forward. The queen’s chambers were in the east wing of the castle. Unfortunately, the kitchen was beneath the west wing. She played with the idea of trying to navigate the maze of servant quarters that wound throughout the castle walls, but not all the passages were as direct as the one that led to the queen’s chambers. One wrong turn and she might be lost in the dark for hours, days even if she wasn’t careful.

Aesira decided she would rather die in the light rather than the darkness of a damp stone tunnel. She had made it down to the main corridor of the east wing where the screams were closer, and she could now make out the sounds of clashing metal. There must be enemy soldiers in the castle. That wasn’t great, but she was relieved that the castle wasn’t crawling with the giant fire breathing creatures that were wreaking havoc on the city.

She had almost made it out of the east wing, but the main corridor was wide open and had very few places to hide. Until now, she had been keeping to the shadows and trying to hide behind the statues or couches that lined the hall. Now she would just have to make a run for the hall that would take her towards the west wing and hope that there weren’t enemy guards walking around. She peeked around the corner and didn’t see, well, anyone. There were usually guards posted in the corridor and the occasional maid would be dusting the statues that stood in the corners. They must all be defending the king.

She took a deep breath and then ran as fast as her already aching body would allow. The east corridor had been one of her favorite places in the castle. The floor was white marble and the ceiling was a giant glass dome that let the beautiful sunlight in. In that moment, it just made her feel exposed. She made it to the opposite hall and dipped behind a large potted plant to catch her breath. The sounds of danger had gotten closer. She knew she should find a better way to the kitchens, but she simply didn’t know what way that could possibly be. She thought that if she could just stay in the shadows, she would go unnoticed. Especially if the enemy soldiers were too busy fighting the castle guards, and hopefully the entire royal army.

She had almost made it to the end of the hall when she saw the blood. There was so much of it. She couldn’t see what it was coming from, but there was a pool of crimson slowly crawling across the marble floor of the main entry to the castle. She was halfway across the castle. Halfway to her mother. She told herself to keep going. The space was quiet so she inched forward. When she got to the end of the hall, she looked around the corner to see where the blood was coming from.

It was horrible. There were at least a dozen royal guards laying on the ground. All of them were dead. She gagged at the overwhelming smell of the blood. The whole floor was covered in it. There was no way she would be able to make it across without staining her slippers. Some of the blood looked as though it had already started to dry and thicken, darkening to a sickening shade of brown. She couldn’t look at the scene any longer so she focused her attention to the entrance of the next hall she planned to travel down. If she could just get to the dining hall, she could take the servant tunnels from there. She had traveled those before with her mother.

She took one step into the entryway. She hadn’t anticipated how slick the blood would make the marble and lost her footing. Before she knew it, she was face down in the pool of blood. It was still warm. She scrambled to get back on her feet, trying not to think about the gore that now covered most of her body. She took her next step very slowly, her slippers threatening to slide out from under her again. She continued her slow pace across the entry. As she was going, she realized that there wasn’t a single enemy soldier amongst the dead.

She finally made it to the other hallway. Now if she could just make it through the third door, she would be in the dining hall, and from there she could take the servant passages and be out of the open. She ran for the door. When she went to turn the knob, her blood slicked hands struggled to get any grip on the smooth brass. After stumbling for a few more seconds, she finally got a good hold.

The door opened to reveal a room full of the most terrifying and beautiful soldiers she had ever seen. There were only five throughout the vast dining hall, their dark armor glinting in the sunlight that leaked through the large windows. She knew that she should turn and run, but she found herself mesmerized by the faces of the soldiers. Their features looked as though the great artists of the ancient days had carved them, all sharp angles and strong stern expressions. Most of them had blood smeared on their perfect skin, but that just added to their savage beauty. She gasped when she saw that all of them had pointed ears.

The one closest to her whirled around at the small sound. When his eyes landed on her, his lips turned up into a cruel smile. She turned to run but he was impossibly fast. She made it all of two steps before the guard’s hand wound in her hair and wrenched her back so hard she lost her footing. Pain shot through her scalp and tears stung the corners of her eyes as he dragged her back into the room. She reached her hands up to try and claw his hand out of her hair but he just laughed and continued walking her towards the other soldiers.

“Look what we have here” he said to the other soldiers. “Another vermin scuttling around the castle”. One of the other soldiers approached. His long white hair had been tied back, and his eyes were such a pale shade of blue, they reminded her of ice. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing” he said as he traced a cold hand down the side of her blood smeared face. She turned her head and bit down on his hand as hard as she could. He ripped his hand free of her teeth and then the edges of her vision blurred as the back of that very same hand connected with her cheek, pain instantly spiking throughout the entire side of her face.

“I bet the king would enjoy breaking this one” he said with a smirk. Then he grabbed her wrist and started dragging her away from the other guards. She was relieved when the other guard let go of her hair, but fear flooded her veins at the sound of being taken to their king.

Aesira had never learned to fight, but she knew that she had to get away from her captor. She started flailing around, slamming her free hand into the hand that held her. The other guards just laughed, their open mouths revealing slightly elongated canines. What were they and what kingdom had they come from?

She continued trying to tug her arm free and even tried stomping on his feet a few times, but he just dug his fingers deeper into her soft skin and continued dragging her along. She was so frantic that she didn’t even notice that they had made it all the way to the throne room until he stopped them in front of the two grand doors. To her horror, the hall was lined with the bodies of the royal guard. Once again there wasn’t a single felled enemy.

There were two soldiers posted outside the doors, a mockery of the royal guard that usually stood in their place.

“Another gift for the king” her captor said to the other guards. They said nothing but pulled the great doors open. The scene that laid behind those doors was made of nightmares and hellscapes.

The throne room was large and spacious and the walls on either side were compiled of large windows and intricately carved columns. Now, blood coated the lower half of the columns. The windows revealed the land on fire and the giant beasts flying through the sky tormenting the city below. Bodies of nobles and soldiers lay everywhere, their blood pooling across the once pristine marble floor. Her stomach turned when she saw the group of disheveled women that were huddled in one of the corners, most of them crying, their clothes and hair in various states of disarray.

She hoped that the guard would take her to the group of women because they were at least alive, but he continued to walk her through the room. She was too tired to keep fighting and decided that if she kept her head down, maybe she wouldn’t have to see the gruesome remains of the life she had once known.

She just stared at her blood covered slippers as step by step she came closer to what she was certain would be her death. Suddenly the soldier jerked her to a stop. She began to raise her eyes. She started shaking at the sight before her. First, she saw the steps that ascended to the throne. About halfway up, there was a body and to her horror, it was missing its head. Her eyes continued upwards not wanting to linger on the body. She then found herself looking into the eyes of her king.

She had only seen King Damian a few times in person, but he was a man that people didn’t forget after meeting. He had always exuded power and strength. Their kingdom had gone to war before and had been victorious for the last fifty years under the king’s rule.

Now she stared into the still open eyes of his decapitated head. She couldn’t stop shaking. Her kingdom had fallen. The life she knew was over and gone. She would probably never see her mother again.

“What have we here?”

That voice drew her attention past the vacant eyes of King Damian and up to the face of the man whose lap the head of her king currently rested on. He was even more fierce than any of the soldiers she had seen. He had long black hair that fell to his waist. He was wearing armor that looked to be made of the same dark metal as the rest of his army, but his was of a much more intricate design. And then she met his eyes – eyes like the deep red of thick fresh blood. His eyes narrowed when he looked at her. She wanted nothing more than to shrink away, but decided that if she were to die, she didn’t want to look like a coward. Her mother had always been a strong woman despite her status. Nobles and guards alike had always mistreated the servants in the palace, taken advantage of them in the worst ways, but her mother had always kept her head high. So now, in the face of the man who would likely end her, she would try to keep her head high too, even though she knew that she probably just looked like a filthy, pathetic child.

“We caught her sneaking around the palace and thought that she might fit into your majesty’s collection” The guard said. She still had not broken eye contact with the king. The weight of his gaze was unlike any other. She almost believed that there was some kind of physical force behind it threatening to make her shrink back, but she held her ground. She decided then to lift her chin a little higher. She swore she saw him smile just slightly before he broke her gaze and redirected it to the guard who stood awaiting his response. The tension that had built throughout her body eased a fraction and she went back to looking at her ruined slippers hoping that would help slow her frantic heart.

“Yes, she will do quite nicely. Put her with the others.”

With that, the guard retightened his grip on her arm and turned to lead her away. She felt the king’s gaze linger on her as she was guided away from the throne. The white haired soldier all but threw her into the huddled group of women causing her to stumble and fall hard onto her hands and knees. She tried to throw one last hateful glare over her shoulder but he had already turned and walked away.

None of the women tried to help her up, so she painfully pulled herself up off the ground. Her knees and hands now joining the list of body parts that hurt. As she observed the group, she realized that she was by far the youngest. All the other women were, well, women. She recognized one of them as one of the kitchen maids that often worked with her mother. She was pretty and couldn’t have been more than twenty years old with bright blonde hair and a smattering of freckles across her smooth skin. When Aesira finally got to her, she tapped her on the shoulder and then asked, “Do you know where my mother is?”. The girl turned around and just stared at her for a few seconds. Then recognition crossed her features and tears welled in her eyes as she started shaking her head. “She tried to get everyone out” she said shakily. “What happened to her?” Aesira asked, knowing the final spark of hope she had was about to burn out. The girl still had tears running down her cheeks as she said, “They killed her with the rest of them” and Aesira’s world ended.

•••

The rest of that dreadful day went by in a blur of grief. After hearing the news of her mother’s demise, she had just stood there watching the world burn through the window. Eventually, the group of women – the king’s Collection as the guard had called them – had been taken out of the throne room. They were then taken to the bathing chambers, stripped of their clothes and scrubbed down. Then they were taken one at a time by women with pointed ears and beautiful eyes that shined with disgust when they looked at the admittedly pitiful group. The woman that took Aesira had been devastatingly beautiful with her thick brown hair and ocean blue eyes. Her pointed ears decorated with several studs of the same metal that all the foreigners seemed to wear.

“What are you?” Aesira asked. The woman glanced down at her and then sneered “We are fae, and you are dust”. Aesira stayed silent after that, and the woman took her to one of the guest chambers in the palace. She then styled Aesira’s hair, braiding and pinning it into an elegant style, and stuffed her into clothes in a style she had never seen before. She also lined her eyes with charcoal and dabbed rouge on her cheeks and lips. She still wasn’t nearly as beautiful as any of the fae she had seen, but she looked much better than the dirty, blood covered girl she had started as. Not that she cared.

She was then taken back to the throne room where the other women had been lined up in front of the throne. She was placed with them, apparently the last to arrive. The king then stood up from the throne, King Damian’s head rolling from his lap and making a sickening thud as it hit the ground, apparently forgotten by the fae king that now stood before them.

“I am King Pyrrhos” he said. “My people have grown tired of staying in our kingdom in the hidden mountains and have now come to reclaim the lands that were once ours. Lucky for me, you humans seem to have bred the memory of my people out of your small minds and made it particularly easy to crumble your measly defenses.” he said as he gestured to the room around him. “Unfortunately, other human kingdoms have been more careful and have kept the defenses long since laid by their ancient kings.”

“That is why I have chosen to spare you. War is all but a game, and you are to be my pawns. If you do not swear loyalty to me, I will feed you to my dragons.” He said, now gesturing to the fire breathing beasts. “If you do swear your loyalty to me, I will let you live in the palace under my protection. Very few humans have ever been gifted this opportunity. Step forward now if you accept my generous offer.”

Aesira knew that she should just let herself die and not become a pawn in this fae king’s twisted game, but she found herself stepping forward.

She often looked back on that day and wondered if dying would have been the better choice. Many of the women who had stepped forward with her had been killed over the years. Some had tried to escape the palace, others had become the subject of some of the faes’ cruel games. Being under the king’s protection couldn’t save you if your own choices brought danger upon you. Some women had simply been tricked into the wrong bed and found death instead of a lover’s embrace.

Aesira on the other hand had learned from the faes’ cruelty and had become as cunning and vicious as the worst of them. A victim of her environment one might say, but she liked the power that came with being cruel to those she hated. They usually deserved whatever they had coming to them.

Ten years had passed and Aesira had grown into a beautiful young woman. For some reason, King Pyrrhos had always favored her. Perhaps it was because she was young enough that he could mold her into whatever he desired and she was smart enough to let him.

He gave her her own bed chambers that were almost as spacious and lush as the queen’s had been. He assigned her a fae tutor and she learned to read. She even had a fae maid that dressed her in gorgeous expensive dresses and pampered her with expensive perfumes and oils. She wielded her beauty and the kings favor like the deadliest of weapons. Sometimes she forgot that she was even human at all.

Other kingdoms had heard about the fae taking her homeland, but none had come to save their fellow humans, probably in hope of not drawing the wrath of the fae upon their own lands. She used to dream that knights from another kingdom would ride into the city and save her, but they never came. In the end it was for the best. After all, ten years of anger made it much easier to become what the fae king had made her to be.

A traitor.