A man dressed in black armor dismounts from his horse, his thin grey beard hangs down his neck, brushing against his chest plate. A soldier brings a red cape from the carriage and then places the King’s crown on his head. “Queen Seraph of the Elves, I am King Tatrasiel of the Kingdom of Altra. I present my son, the Crowned Prince, Rizoel. Slayer of—” King Tatrasiel stops and coughs. Seraph knew what he was going to say. Rizoel was the Slayer of Dragons meanwhile Seraph, as the Elven Queen, was a protector of those beasts, not that the ones in Drescosia needed much protecting. Either way, she was an advocate for them as the past elven rulers.

The Prince removes his helmet and lands with ease on the ground beside the mighty black stallion. “My Queen,” he says, bowing down to Seraph but his hazel eyes are trained on Adrih, he was a Slayer of Dragons but he had never seen one of the ancient’s stature.

“You may rise.” Seraph says harshly and he does while still refusing to meet the Queen’s eyes. “Have you ever seen one of the ancients?”

Rizoel shakes his head. “Never this close, My Queen.”

“If I wanted you dead you wouldn’t have made it this far.” Seraph says and their eyes finally meet.

“I would consider that a compliment.” Sylis tells the Prince, a gentle and peaceful smile trembling on her lips as she tries to keep her composure, the Faelith family was not in agreement with King Tatrasiel coming to their kingdom.

The Prince holds his hand out as a woman steps from the golden carriage, a middle aged woman with long brown hair and bright green eyes that became weary over the treacherous years. She bows her head to Seraph and a young girl steps from the carriage following the woman. “My wife, Anahel and our daughter, Saranda.” King Tatrasiel says and he folds his arms behind his back as The Queen comes to stand beside him.

The councilors file out of the palace and stand behind Sylis, Bril and Seraph. Wildred steps forward, his luxurious robes sweeping the stone as the clouds gather overhead. “King Tatrasiel,” he greets, “our guards will bring you to your rooms in the Palace, your family and guards are expected at dinner this evening at the forty ninth hour. As for your soldiers they may stay in our warrior’s quarters.”

“We thank you for your kindness.” The Queen says as she steps forward, away from her husband. “We would like to give her majesty a gift in return,” a petite woman steps forward with a basket, “our finest silks-”

“I believe my sister would be more willing to wear your silks.” Seraph says as she taps the toe of her boot on the stone impatiently.

Bril smiles at the queen who looks around worriedly that she would be punished for her poor choice in gifts. “My sister is known to be a warrior and not a lady, do not be alarmed by her choices in clothing,” Bril says smoothly, her bright eyes smiling down at the queen.

“Take them to their rooms.” Seraph orders as she exits the area, taking Sylis’ wrist as she goes. She had not taken a liking to the humans and chose not to interact. A loud roar erupts from Adrih and his wings beat harshly as he takes off into the cloudy sky, having been relieved of his duties as the welcoming company. Juovo floats gently into the air, following closely behind the larger beast.

The councilors are left in astonishment that their queen had not ordered the execution of another man wishing to hold her hand in marriage. It was better for the royal family to be exempt from knowing the wishes of the elven queen, to have their blood splattered on the stone steps of the palace.

The prince rushes after her, disrupting Seraph’s attempt to escape the situation. “May I walk with you, My Queen?” Rizoel asks forcefully.

Instead of turning the boy away Seraph drops Sylis’ hand and Sylis heads towards Bril. Seraph continues down the path with the boy in her wake. Something about him created a mysterious haze of magic around his head. She walked beside him for a long time before he spoke. “I have heard stories about you, your majesty. I was wondering if—”

“Seraph is fine.” She interrupts, not wanting to hear any more of “my Queen” and “your majesty” she wanted him to bow to her but if he were to continue to walk beside her, she refused to put up with it. After a couple moments, she answers his question. “It depends on what rumors you have heard.”

He shivers slightly at her final answer but continues. “Ah, I have heard that you had the last prince who asked for your hand killed.”

She stops when they reach the cliff that plunges into the valley of the dead below. Branches of dead trees reach up towards the sky, begging for life but receiving nothing in return. “Some rumors are twisted from the truth.” She says as she drums her fingers against the rocks surrounding the cliff. Seraph holds her hand out to the dead trees below. “They say that this is the entrance to the realm of death. The chasm has existed since the beginning of time and has steadily grown larger as if something is trying to escape. Of course, those are just fairy tales.”

“Your fairytales sound dark,” Rizoel says, she can hear the frown in his voice as he contemplates what could be down below. “I grew up hearing about princes and princesses with a forbidden love. In the end, everyone was happy.”

Seraph hangs her feet over the edge, risky she knew but she wanted to test the boy's power. If it came to it she could see Adrih in the distance watching her from his perch. “Isn’t that dangerous?” Rizoel asks her hesitantly as he sat down a few feet away.

Her head swings around with a raised eyebrow. “If you shove me off then you will never receive the throne.” The boy suddenly freezes, she knew she had him. He wanted to kill her, to take the throne for himself and walk away with the riches, marry a girl of his choosing after forcing her to give him a child. Jumping to conclusions was often her strategy but in this case, she saw no other reason for him to shrink away at her response. Seraph holds her hand out to the boy, pulling him back up to his feet. “I killed the last prince with my bare hands when the council voted against my decision and told me I were to marry the prince.”

Prince Rozoel still seems more at ease, he was frightened by the dragon but her words seem to cause him little strife. He watches the Queen of the Elves with an even stare. “You should have married the last prince.” He says. “Your sister has been poisoned. It will kill her by the end of the winter festival. I will give you the antidote after our union. If you leave or disobey me even after I give you the antidote then I will kill her. I have my ways.”

She stares at the prince unmoving. Seraph had always enjoyed a challenge but this was far from a challenge that she desired but it seemed she was forced to partake.

***

Seraph’s room had been decorated when she was a child with glass ornaments filled with bright colored sands but the glass had been broken and the remnants of the sand and lay in their shadowy grave in the corner of her room that received no light. Her room was angled towards the rising suns but the thick dark green curtains hung heavily across the windows, only opened when the moon rose.

“I believe the councilors appreciated your lack of enthusiasm towards the prince.” Sylis says, her elbows on the desk and her body hunched over.

Seraph sighs and slides out of the room and onto the balcony and minimal light pours through the curtains with the brewing storm that the Elves would face as their queen carefully placed her pawns across the world.

Sylis follows the queen, curious of what was going through her Queen’s mind. “I’ll marry him.” She finally says. “He will have the largest Kingdom in the human muck-”

“What?” Sylis asks and Seraph watches as the woman’s eyes widen.

“It will be a financial gain, not one for love. Maybe his death will look like an accident.” Seraph says. Her head had filled to the brim of where to start with the world she must conquer until now. Before, she knew her sister would provide an heir to the throne and she could live out her days with the crown. It all mattered little now. Now it was Rizoel’s turn, Rizoel’s plans. She would provide an heir. He would make the plans while she rotted away in his bed. The room she stood in would become his, everything she owned would be his. It was for Bril’s sake, she had to live. And for her sake, he would die, but that was to come much later. Eventually, Seraph knew, she would be capable of putting him in his grave but for now she could only dream of the ways she could torture him.

***

Seraph wore black to dinner, her white hair tied back with a simple black ribbon. The dress displayed Elven silk at its finest, it was plain and masculine except for her protruding breasts and the low neckline. Her waist is cinched by a strip of black silk, showing off her hips and feminine features.

Wildred stares at the Queen as she enters and Seraph stares back, almost challenging him to speak. When the counselor finally does it is in a hushed tone which he spoke to her in the back of the hall. “You shouldn’t be wearing black. It is an insult to King Tatrasiel.” He whispers furiously. “I know there isn’t a color specified for our kind for the sake of passing but the-”

“I’m the one dying. This is my last night in freedom.” Seraph says, she knew Prince Rizoel would want to consummate their marriage and she wouldn’t be able to keep him away from her. It would be the only time she would ever allow her body to be taken by someone she despised, it was all for her sister’s life.

She walks to the head of the table and her eyes bare down on Rizoel. “I accept.” She says and then proceeds to take her seat.

Noise in the ballroom halted and whispers arose in the stuffy air and the eyes trace her body, Seraph suddenly feels exposed and she forces her hands to stay by her sides instead of bringing them up and around her stomach, hugging herself away from their eyes and harms way. Her scars protected her from them, they served as a shield between herself and the common people. They saw her and they sunk into the shadows, avoiding the queen. She doubted that they knew where the scars came from, few did and they theorised that they had come from a dragon. The burn covering the right side of her face came from the beasts. The white scars came from her brawls with guards and the people of her Kingdom when she left the Palace with a hood concealing her face. At the end of the day, the scars came from the dead she left in her wake as she walked and they kept the world seperated from her. The Queen wasn’t one of the elite, they didn’t call her royalty they called her a killer and she was to be feared. She knew how to kill but it was her only defence and she had never been up against someone with her own stamina. Rizoel had only challenged her to a duel of wits, she prefered steel but she never backed down from a challenge.

Whatever the Prince did to her she could take. At least Seraph hoped she could.