The Chess Match

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. The forest it ran through was lush, green, and teeming with life. And in the night time, oh the songs you could hear.

Tyron, a stoic man, the Queen's longtime friend and dedicated bodyguard, stood by the riverbank, waiting. The moon would reach its zenith soon and she would be back, her head held high as she had been taught by those before her.

***

Earlier

When a young boy from the river's nearby village busted into the throne room breathlessly, with the first rays of sunlight on his tail, the Queen groaned internally.

She hated this day.

So much already fell on her shoulders, ruling the kingdom, but it was nearly impossible to keep from buckling under the weight of this day. No one, not even Tyron, would know how much she wanted to crawl back into bed, blocking out her responsibilities for just one day. Instead of dwelling on the fantasy, she rose from her throne, nodding at Tyron to follow.

To the kingdom, the change in the river's flow only indicated the Queen's absence for the day. To her, it was a command she religiously followed without delay every year. There wasn't time to take in the gorgeous meld of colors in the sky or the joint symphony of the morning birds.

As they approached the river, a fog fell over the land, thickening with every step, until it engulfed the Queen, snatching her away.

***

The Queen allowed her mask of strength and determination to fall away as she slowly made her way deeper into the fog. There was very few moments when she could truly just...feel, and oh, how she lived for those few minutes.

But alas, her treasured moment would be cut short.

"Have you come to deny me what I want yet again, my Queen?"

The biting question echoed throughout the fog as a shadow broke through the fog, stalking her as if she was prey. She wasn't frighten, but yet her heart raced, faster and faster like a hummingbird until, finally, she could clearly see him.

The King - a handsome and charming man, the perfect cover for the truth lying underneath. Like goodness flowed through the Queen's veins, evil ran through his.

The King's cold steel eyes dug into her, sparking intensely. "Well, my Queen," he lifted his hand toward the Queen and tugged on a small curl, watching it bounce. "Are you?"

The air was already thick, of course, there was a lot on the line. But now it was unbearable.

She took at step back, trying to escape and give herself space, giving her mastered public mask a chance to return. Then in true queenly fashion, she ignored the King, walking around him and deeper into the fog. The only thing the King could do was follow, something he didn't mind at all.

***

They soon reached their destination - an intricately decorative chessboard atop a wooden table with two chairs situated across from one another. The mist swirled around, acting as a boundary, ensuring neither the Queen or King could leave until the game was played.

Because of being the victor of this chess game, the Queen has ruled the kingdom, a most blissful utopia, for nine years.

Everyone at the kingdom was happy and at peace.

Well, almost everyone. The Queen let out a small sigh, reminding herself that it price of ruling, sacrificing yourself and your desires, love, for the greater good.

The Queen and King took their seats. Hers faced the white pieces, his the black, as was always the way, even before chess shifted into something more than just a game for the both of them.

He had always insisted that she sat there and only she should touch those pieces. At first, it was because girls should always go first just like the white side did. Then it changed as they got older.

She placed her last pawn when a question popped in her head. Looking up at him, she innocently asked, "Why don't you ever touch the white pieces?"

He looked at her and a darkness passed over his face, something she had been noticing more and more.

"I would only taint them." He seemed almost bitter before he mumbled what the young Queen would later realize was a warning under his breath. "Beautiful, good things should never be touched by something so dark."

And just like back then, she moved a pawn forward one space.

***

He noticed it about halfway through.

The King snatched up yet another piece, a rook, before he broke the silence. "You remember what happened last time you played these moves?"

A brief, sad smile crept up on the Queen's face before it fell. "It won't end the same way." She claimed a protected pawn with her queen, leaving the white queen vulnerable to capture. "I can't let it."

It wasn't because she enjoyed being Queen. In fact, she hated it.

But a reluctant Queen was the lesser of two evils, for if the King ruled, the kingdom would in every sense of the word, burn.

"Aren't you tired, my Queen?"

Maybe it was the nostalgia or a childish wish things could be like when they were young that prompted such a blunt and honest answer. "Of course I am." She watched him move a pawn forward, creeping closer to her side of the board. "But I'm supposed to be. I'm not as important as the people."

"You were to me."

"My King..." her voice cracked.

"I didn't care about the throne. I only wanted you. Us. If I didn't think you'd hate me for doing so, I would destroy everything and say screw it," he shouted, "to the so-called rules of the universe, all so you could be free to freaking love me." He slammed his knight against her queen. "But I was always the selfish one. And you weren't." The King spit out the last sentence like her selflessness was poison.

Tears pricked her eyes. In a sense it was. When the time had come for them to go the river, into the fog for the first time, the King had begged her to run away with him. Someplace where they could be free from what life seemed to be dictating, that they would always be on opposite sides. Who cared if it left the kingdom in shambles.

"I would rather let the world burn than lose you."

Instead, the Queen had forced him to go into the fog with her, giving him no choice but to play. And there he stayed year after year, his anger and pain obviously brewing.

They were both so overwhelmed with old romantic feelings and past pain that one of them didn't notice the trap of the other.

"Checkmate."

***

Tyron felt a chill in the air.

Clouds blocked the view of the starry sky, pitching the forest into true darkness. The sound of of dry grass and quickly dying leaves crunching under Tyron's feet was the only ones he could hear anymore. Where was the song of the owls? The chattering of the nocturnal creatures?

He could feel the presence of someone else in the forest.

"My Queen?!" Tyron called out.

"No." A hand gripped the back his head, and suddenly, his mind was filled with visions of war and diabolical thoughts. Tyron's screams echoed throughout the woods and then silence.

Tyron turned to the other person with him and dropped to a knee, bowing.

"What would you have me do, my King?"