The Knight with Doll Eyes

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

The flowers appeared all at once. I had never seen flowers bloom like this. I was apprehensive of their deep yellow and bright red, like if you could unravel a coral snake. I worried about the toxin.

I gathered the dragons in my satchel, grabbing their delicate stems. I thought. If I brought them to my sister, perhaps I’d see a smile.

My twin sister seemed to be born in a permanent state of atrophy. Nothing, it seems, could rouse a reaction. Every day It seemed more desperate. To get her to smile. To be angry. I longed to see emotions mirrored in a face identical to mine. I gave her the dragon's petals; I watched her nod. She would ground them into a watercolor and use that to translate them into something I could perhaps understand.

Our fixtures here seemed to bear no roots. Our grand home made of cinder was atop a mountain overlooking the rest of the archipelago; it was our stronghold. We were fortunate to be born in the privileged shadow. Although our father was sparingly around, we had each other. If I could tell her, I’d apologize for disputing growing up sp quickly. She patiently waited for me to meet her there one day, and I never did.

One day she ground the dragon root in her tea. The slow poisoning was purposeful to exact the amount of time before anyone found her: an advisor, a servant, or even me. I had no suspicion she’d take her life. There is a grief that does not mourn. There is an intense reaching while I wonder if this is my body now. Numbness overcame me. I relinquished that part of me as I saw the permanent expression of death. All I could think was: it could not be so.

I've heard her ghost call me by name. I knew for sure because only she would ever ask for me in such a way by such a name.

So I engrossed myself in the possibility of her existence rather than embracer her memory. I left them at my side. She always said I was codependent and too spoiled ever to go alone. So I armed myself with the stories I’ve heard from foreigners. I took my maps, compass, blade, and horse, and I went away in front of the high-rise walls of my homeland. The home I would someday be forced to take over, but what possible ruler would have any merit if he could not at the least save his damned twin from an afterlife.

I knew I’d find answers somewhere, past all the faces of creatures and humans who wish me harm. I’d find it past the security of my own doing. My answers would be far from where I would ever go. I’d go to those watercolor paintings she made for me and find where she resided. The closest anyone that ill could ever come to true happiness. I’d find it. Distill it. And I’d have my twin sister.

A sea storm brought a hellscape to the archipelago. It had been five whole years since the beloved princess passed away. Five years later, the king had condemned his nation to turmoil, forcing the few sources to concur with the surrounding lands. He chose madness through his fruition, taking casualties with him. With the heir absent, his wife is entirely despondent. She was a statue of flesh and blood since her daughter's passing.

But, one day, in the Valley where the dragons bloomed that one time five years ago. The soil soaked in the copper spilled by violence. The butterflies came to consume the blood and absorbed all the malice and hatred. They grew into something monstrous as well.

The strangers laid to rest on this soil that didn't belong to them. One day the storm brought darkness during the daytime. On the plane of now, grey and scarlet appeared the apparition. She was a vision in black. Her long locks kept growing while she slumbered. It was the Princess, Celina. She had no memory of her life before. Some odd fragment brought her here, barefoot, without skin. Her eyes had absorbed and reflected the deep red of blood. She stood there.

Soon she was not alone. The enemy forces came sparingly to collect their dead. When they saw a woman, they did not see the skeleton without its covers but a woman of flesh and blood., the visceral evil in them attempted to violate her. One man approached slowly, cooing, like an animal they were sure they could overpower. The rest followed. While she was naive of their intentions, her rage at their perversion brought her two ruby eyes up and drained their breath of life, all of them, fallen around like trees that had been struck by lightning.

The man who could be most benevolent in this situation had seen what she had done. And took no moment. He approached with caution, by now he had faced death and was able to not look her in the eyes as he approached. He reassured her, and brought her back to the kingdom. She was accepted as she was seen, a spirit capable of the death of living creatures, as she willed it to be.

She was no longer mortal, she was now the embodiment of death itself. Her destiny was now clear. Although, her identity would be ambiguous. Thus should be aversive to her dearly. After all. Even agents of death perhaps could wonder how they came to be.