The Curse

Victor coughed as yet another plume of dust rose from the old tomes. He glanced again to the other occupant of the library. There was no sign of the Wolf-bear that had saved him from his tormentors. Just the girl of steel-storm eyes that had looked up at him and called his ancestor's name, prompting him to travel all the way to the manor house he had inherited from his grandfather.

Wilhelm, the white, had been a Knight of renown valor. He had refused to accept Daroque's rule and had led siege after siege until the people had reclaimed the Kingdom for their own. Daroque's niece had never been found and no warrior or knight or even Dane had the heart to take her throne.

She had been a Queen respected in death. Victor had kept the manor house knowing that this ancestral house had been kept in the Reis family line since ancient times. Kept by all the descendants of the noble Knight. Years of history had been recorded here. Victor flipped through decades of Dane recordings in the ancient tongue.

He was glad once again for Jessa's lessons in history and linguistics. He flipped another page and finally came across what he had really been looking for all along. An image of the Queen that never was. Of Freya the Just. Of course, the sketch paled to reality. Freya was much more beautiful than an artist could capture.

Xxxx

Freya woke slowly, feeling the softness of something that was not her cave floor, or the soft grass of a forest. As she moved, she felt much lighter than ever before. The first thing she did was notice her slim pale fingers, her almond-shaped nails. She looked at them in wonder and then put her hand to her cheeks. Soft skin devoid of fur.

She pulled at the cloth that covered her chest and swung her legs off where she sat. As she did something fell. It made no noise, and she looked down, reaching down and lifting more fabric. Soft and long. She put it on, covering her legs.

She glanced down again and saw there was more cloth. She stood holding it in her arms before she carefully put on the long Jacket that covered her. She walked along the cold marble floor, clenching her toes and smiling at the feeling. She breathed deeply and realized she still had the senses of the Wolf. She was there in the back of Freya's mind, the way Freya had been all these years.

She looked around and realized this was something familiar. This library it was much older now, and filled with even more tomes, but this was where Wilhelm and she had planned battles, and ways to gather intel. Sitting at that very desk was the artist, his head bent down on a book, spectacles on his face.

If Freya looked carefully, she could see the very shadow of Wilhelm in his bearing. She walked cautiously towards him, not wanting to spook him. He glanced towards where she had lay and saw his moment of panic before he located her in front of him. "Hello," Freya said, her voice thick with unuse.

"Hello." He said carefully, his eyes wide. He rose up from his chair, "Let me get you some water." He said furrowing his brow as he did. Freya sat in a chair, surprised at the softness of it. The man brought the glass close to her and then returned to his chair. Freya carefully lifted the glass, wondering at how light and fragile it looked. She drank the water carefully.

The boy in front of her made an uncertain sound deep in his throat. "My name is Victor." He said, his throat thick. "I apologize," Freya said. "Your eyes looked familiar to me," Freya said.

"Wilhelm was my ancestor," Victor said uncertainly, pulling free a loose piece of paper from the tome he had been reading. "And this is you, isn't it?" He asked carefully. Freya pulled the paper from Victor's grasp and smiled at the sketch Charles had once made.

"As impossible as it seems," Freya said, looking up at Victor. He frowned. "How is any of this possible?" Victor asked. "A curse," Freya said. "That tale you spoke of in the cave was mostly accurate, except it left out the part of me becoming a wolf for decades," Freya said. "I don't know enough about this curse," Freya said thoughtfully. "But I know someone who might," Freya said.

Victor frowned. "I'm sorry to say, it's been too long for anyone you know to still be alive," Victor said. Freya smiled. "Not this girl. Or her brother. They are too stubborn to die."