Chapter 1: The Dreaded Deed
September 3rd, the fateful day a miracle came to be. Queen Colette Bravewell of Valengard screamed to the heavens as her insides were pushed outwards. Upon hearing her screams, her king rushed through the doors, white as a sheet. His concerned look in her direction was met with daggers. But she knew he would forgive her; this fierce look was what made him fall in love with her.
“My Lord!... Out!... It’s not time… yet.” she yelled at her husband between breaths, as her Lady’s Maid ushered him back through the door. “Your Grace, we will come for you when all is ready.”
After fourteen grueling hours of labor, Colette felt she had no more strength within her. “Push!” the nurses urged, as her face turned red with force and she squeezed the balled-up blanket in her fists.
With one final push, a prince was born. The midwife held up the squalling baby for Queen Colette to behold, his eyes the dark violet of the Bravewell clan. She sighed with relief. At long last, she had done what she was meant to do, and a weight was lifted off her shoulders. Finally, she had given her husband a worthy heir.
As she reached out for her newborn babe, the doors flung open and King Anders, barely glancing in the queen’s direction, rushed in and swooped up his firstborn son. He roughly took hold of the newborn causing him to cry even louder. “Healthy child, good lungs!” he said with a hearty laugh. ”You are soon to be the ruler of a strong nation my boy…” And, not waiting a second longer, he rushed out onto the adjoining balcony.
It all felt like it was going too quickly, but Colette knew how eager the king was to boast of his newest achievement. She watched the king’s form through the silky curtains as he walked to the edge of the balcony and she heard the excited bustle of the villagers suddenly halt. She imagined the faces of the hundreds of onlookers down below upon seeing this royal baby. She wished she could be standing beside her husband now.
“My son and future king, Aleksandar!” the king roared. And the crowd’s thunderous cheers drowned out the sounds of the baby’s wails.
Exhausted, Colette allowed herself to sink back into the pillows. She looked over at the balcony and delighted in seeing the king looking especially handsome that day in his most proper ceremonial clothes, his broad shoulders brought back, and his usually tangled beard and hair combed and neatly trimmed. He beamed proudly holding up Aleksandar for all to see. Her husband, her son. Pride washed over her too.
But below something didn’t seem right. Her stomach still ached. She saw the midwife look at the nurses in disbelief. “What is it,” asked Colette alarmed, “What is wrong?”
“Keep pushing!” the midwife yelled to the new mother.
Confused, but ever-trusting, Colette pushed with all her might. And after three such pushes, a little whimper was heard from beneath the sheets. “Another son!” the midwife announced joyfully, passing the second child to his awaiting mother.
The queen looked down at her son, placing her finger in his tiny hand. It was her first time experiencing what it meant to be truly blessed by the gods. Holding her creation within her arms, feeling his heartbeat against her own. She beheld her youngest; lost in his eyes, his dark violet eyes, until a shaft of sunlight brushed his face, causing them to gently close. He was at peace, she was at peace, and in that moment, all was right with the world.
The king re-entered the room triumphantly, too entranced with his loud new heir to notice anything. The midwife and nurses discretely left the royal family alone to bask in the euphoria of this special day.
“My Lord, we have been doubly blessed this day,” the queen tearfully rejoiced. “After trying for so long, fate has brought us two!”
The king swiftly turned his attention to his wife as she cuddled their second son. “Well done, Wife,” beamed the king. “You’ve given me two healthy boys!”
“My Lord, before any further displays of triumph, we must hear from Madrid,” cautioned Colette. The king looked to the corner of the room where the oracle Madrid sat, waiting. The oracle was veiled in blue, black, and violet scarves, which made the heavy creases on her aged face stand out more plainly. Each of her blinks and breaths was as slow as time. She had been present at every noble birthing for longer than anyone could remember, to impart her received wisdom to the families. She always saw the truth, even when it wasn’t immediately apparent. Madrid closed her eyes and searched for answers through the depths of her mind. Madrid had once told her she could communicate with the beyond, which is how she knew so much.
“What say you, Madrid?” asked the king. Madrid’s brows furrowed tightly together before her eyes sprung open, looking to the king. He approached her expectantly, awaiting good news of the boys’ futures. Madrid started speaking in a purposeful rhythmic cadence. The king and queen held on to each of her rich words.
“If the twins remain together,
Then the kingdom shall fall,
And they shall both live in despair.
If they are separated,
One shall flourish,
While the other suffers.
This is the truth.”
Tired after seeing and imparting such a dark prophecy, Madrid’s eyes closed.
So much pain and despair existed in so few words. The queen and the king looked at each other speechless. Baby Aleksandar's cries echoed through the room. The king rocked the baby to quiet him, and spoke first, “This cannot be. You speak out of turn. The kingdom is the strongest it has been since the Great War. Nothing can bring it down, let alone one of my blood.” He stormed off towards the window angrily.
“Please Madrid,” the queen pleaded, “this cannot be. Both of the babies are healthy, there is no reason why either of them should suffer”.
The oracle spoke, "My eyes always reach the truth and there is nothing that can be done to prevent it. You know it is so."
The king turned back to the oracle and shouted, “This dubious prophecy must never leave this room. Do you hear me? If you speak of this to another, I will see to it that you die a gruesome death!” Madrid did not answer.
The queen slowly lifted herself from the bed and hobbled to the corner. Holding her child close, she knelt and reached out towards Madrid, as a friend would. She spoke steadily, trying to stay strong, “You must do as the King demands. Do I have your word to not speak of this to anyone outside this room?” Colette knew an oracle's promise could never be broken.
“Yes, I swear it,” Madrid said, staring directly into the queen’s eyes. These two women had been in each other’s lives since Colette’s birth. Once a long understanding look had been exchanged between them, the Queen stood and walked to stand next to her husband.
“Leave us be now, Oracle,” the king ordered, refusing to look in her direction. The oracle shuffled out the door, leaving the king and queen and their two infants alone.
Colette could see the king contemplating his choices while he looked out the window towards the large crowd of villagers. He had made many difficult decisions in his life, and she knew this would be the most challenging. If she understood him at all, she knew he would use logic, rather than his heart to guide this choice. Turning to look back at her clutching their youngest son, his decision was made.
“He must be killed,” the king said matter-of-factly, pointing to the baby in his mother’s arms.
“No, there must be another way!” she recoiled, tucking the baby in her arms protectively.
“You heard the wretch, if they both live, neither will succeed and Valengard will fall. We only need one son to assume the throne and rule this kingdom. I cannot fathom knowing one will be suffering. Neither could you. It is the only way. The eldest son shall live while the other perishes, and no one will be the wiser.”
“Five minutes, My Lord!... my dearest Husband,” she continued gently, pleading the case for her youngest son’s life, “They were born five minutes apart. How do we know that the son in my arms is not better suited to rule? He is calm, while the one you hold wails. Should his life be lost because of a matter of minutes?” The mother could not bear the thought of losing either son, but especially this son, who looked at her so tenderly for protection. His light brown hair curled up at the ends, his violet eyes so pure. But her husband, the king, had made up his mind.
“The firstborn son must become my heir. That is the rule, and it shall not be broken. We must bring the other one to the woods to be killed at once so that no one shall know that two princes were born on this day. I must find someone who will do it quietly. And expediently.”
The despairing King dropped the soft pink baby he was holding into Colette’s arms before departing.
The queen lay down in her bed, holding her two newborns. She felt their warmth against her and cooed her love to them. The babies barely had their eyes open, and the eldest, fussy as always, held out his hand and grasped some of his brother's fair hair. This brotherly exchange brought an unexpected laugh from her. She lay there, feeling the emptiness in her womb, yet feeling her heart fuller than ever.
She and her husband had decided on only one name, Aleksandar, “the protector of the people”. But she felt she knew the other baby so well. He would have been kind and fair. She decided he should be named. This would bring some peace, as it would ensure that on his journey to the heavens, he would know that he had once belonged. She thought. Henricus? Henry? “Ruler of the House”. No. Not for this baby… He would never know a home.
A tear had rolled down her face onto his, and he looked up at her. A golden evening sunray kissed the baby’s cheeks and illuminated his beautiful eyes, and she knew what he would be called. Lukas. Little Luka. “The bringer of light”. This was the one. Luka would be treasured in her memory, even if he was never known to others. Queen Colette steeled herself to do what was necessary to bring her youngest son's life to an end.
Looking down at her sons, a thought passed through her mind. These babies would be indistinguishable to any other than her. She could choose to hand over the older brother to be killed, the king certainly wouldn’t know the difference. But how could she know if going against the king’s wishes would be the right thing to do or if the older brother’s fussiness would lead him to be the stronger ruler? How could she decide with so little knowledge? She couldn’t grasp the logic of killing one child over a few minutes, but she considered it may be as good a way as any other. She felt sickened by the injustice of it all.
By the time the king returned from his doomed errand of finding someone to execute the dreaded deed, Queen Colette loved both boys for their beauty, vulnerability, and for the promise of the men they could grow to be.
The king gloomily looked down at their two sons, both of whom were now asleep.
“It is done,” he sighed deeply. “Which is the younger?” The queen nodded to the one she cradled in her arms.
Just as the king was about to rob her of her youngest son, she held the baby tighter. “Wait… I want to do it. I want to be the one to take him.”
The king looked at her concerned.“This is not the job of a woman, much less a queen.”
“It’s the job of his mother. I brought him into this world, and I am the one who should bring him to his end.” The king knew better than to argue with her.
“Very good, Wife, I will allow you to go in my stead. Abigor The Sinner will lie in wait in the woods at midnight, under the weeping willow. I trust you to do this in the Bravewell name. For the good of all Valengard.”
“It will be so, My Lord.”
As darkness enshrouded the castle, the queen, concealed in a hood and clutching the child to her breast, parted into the night. She quickly and quietly made her way to the woods, which lay behind the castle. Moving through the dense forest with caution, she carefully avoided the scattered branches and searched for a safe path. After some time, she spotted the magnificent willow tree, whose branches drooped low as if mourning the presence of the queen and her condemned child.
Approaching the tree, she felt a vital energy emanating from it. The willow was known for its perceptible magical properties. She wasn't sure if Abigor The Sinner had already taken refuge under the tree's protection, as the secrets exchanged within the confines of the willow couldn't be heard by outsiders. It was the perfect spot for clandestine meetings. She gently parted the Willow’s branches and found a small, rather gruffy-looking man eagerly awaiting the king.
“Well, THIS is a surprise. Got me the opportunity to see both sides of the royal couple today,” The Sinner smiled, revealing many rotting teeth. “To what do I owe the… dishonor, Queen Colette?” The queen tried to disguise her disgust.
“I asked the king to be sent in his stead. I trust it is safe to talk freely?”
“Unless someone is hiding in the branches of this tree, you know our words cannot be heard beyond these leaves, my dear queen,” Abigor whispered. “And even if we were to disagree on what was said here tonight, who would believe a convicted sinner over Queen Colette of Valengard?” This gave the queen little comfort, but she pressed on.
“The king has sent me to have you kill this child. But I would like to make you another offer,” she said firmly.
“I’m listening,” he smirked.
“I will offer you double the king’s price to travel with this child to Galdoria instead. You will deliver him to the Church of the Guardians. I will grant you half of the amount now. Once you have returned and I have confirmed the well-being of the child, you will receive the other half. This request must remain between the two of us. Do you agree to these terms?”
"To go against my king is an enormous risk to me; a risk I MAY be willing to take… for thrice the amount. I trust this is not too much to ask for the life of your son, who, I might add, has his mother’s beautiful eyes?" He extended his hand, demanding, not asking.
Instead of shaking his hand, the queen simply placed a pouch of gold coins in his open palm. No more words were spoken and the deed was done.
Colette gently caressed the baby’s little head. Turning away from Abigor, she whispered to her son. “You are royalty and my bloodline. To die before being given a chance to prove yourself would be an insult to the heavens. May you live a prosperous life, even if it is not by my side.” The sound of her voice made him look up at her and she waited for his eyes to close one last time.
Then, the ever pragmatic Queen Colette handed her baby boy to the man known as The Sinner, with the knowledge that she did the best she could for her son. She left the safety of the willow tree, and hurried back to the castle to attend to her other child, who would no doubt be hungry and crying up a storm by now.
