The Princess of Blood and Time

~*~

As darkness looms in twilight

And giants eat the suns

As fires burn throughout the night

To warm our gels and sons

When darkness brings the shivers

Our winter's breath is near

And winter's soldiers thither

The summer's death is here

~*~

The heavens mourned with deep rumbles of thunder and lightning covered by thick, dark clouds stretching as far as the eye could see on the horizon.

Beneath the grieving skies, a young girl of eight cradled a fussing newborn in her arms. Her small fingers gripped the embroidered cloth swaddling the youngling to stop her hands from trembling.

She flinched, skin aglow with the light of a roaring fire that consumed the pyre set to the edge of the fjord.

Two smaller sets of hands held the skirt of her dress tightly as a tiny face pressed itself into the side of her leg. An even younger child's hot tears seeped through the luxurious silk in only an instant.

The girl's eyes ached as she stared, unable to look away from the flames consuming the body laid to eternal rest. She had made a promise to be brave, so she wouldn't cry even when her throat swelled so much that it hurt her to breathe.

It was her duty to be strong. To protect her siblings, protect her House. Protect the lineage of the throne.

The Supreme High Priest raised his chin self-righteously and held a thick, wood-bound book in his hands. "We offer up the life and light of Ravena Hellfryne of the Hath-ji, Su'Ailfi of New Oalta, Bearer of Majesty. Let the Maker receive her good works and bless those she has left behind in her name. Ruush soum yeff."

"The Maker Sees," came the united voices of the gathered crowd. Everyone released a handful of incense toward the pyre until it covered the burning corpse.

The girl held her wailing brother tighter, as though he would blow away from her arms like the ashes of their mother if she didn't contain him…

She rocked him slowly, staring out of her window as the second moon sat high in the sky, making way for the crescent third moon. Her eyes were dim and lifeless. Her body was exhausted from the lack of sleep she had endured since the child's birth.

"I may take him, Your Sovereign Highness." A young handmaid not much older than the princess offered her hands with a timid bow. "You must rest."

"I will care for him myself."

"But your ceremony of ascension is tomorrow, Serenity!"

"I will care for him myself, Eva," the child repeated with a deliberate slowness, tracing the face of the young baby with gentle fingers.

He was so small— not even one week old and already marked by the stain of hardship. Her heart seemed to stop beating when she looked at him, both in grief and wonder…

Two small hands curled into unforgiving fists beneath the billowing sleeves of her dress, burying filed nails into her palms until they threatened to bleed.

"Rise, Verinia Hellfryne, First Princess of Oalta, Mistress of Light Tower," came the edict. "May the Maker and his divine Arcana lead you to green pastures and bestow upon you the fire of enlightenment."

Su'na Rifthall, Supreme High Priest of Oalta, fixed the diadem of the late Su'Ailfi upon her head.

From his throne, her father sat cold and unmoving, not even sparing the young princess so much as one glance when she took the throne beside his.

The seat her mother had sat upon, not even one week before.

It dwarfed her, the throne. It threatened to swallow her whole, questioning who she was to dare seat herself where she wasn't welcomed.

The princess resisted the growing urge to writhe, raising her stubborn little chin to gaze proudly at the faces of the sovereign court.

The old blood bowed their heads, the new blood bowed their bodies, but the null blood kneeled in recognition of her ascension…

A stubborn resolution was planted in her pounding heart.

No matter what happened, the court would be hers.