Snow White: Part One

Author's Note: Until I am able to scratch together a few bucks for an upgrade, please be patient with the length of this piece, and subsequent submissions to the portfolio. Also, please rate and review, the revisions are a work in progress and i know there are nuerous spelling errors. Thanks for your time!







I never liked Snow White.

When I was young, it was my mother's favorite movie, and I would hate it when she popped in the tape. How in the world could one person be so damned sweet? She really wasn't all that fair, certainly not fair enough that the queen, whom I doubted was all that wicked anyway, would feel the need to kill her. I did like the bit about cutting out her heart.

Twenty years later, thinking of my own stepmother who, in my opinion, was the muse for every wicked stepmother story ever written, I began to think back on the story of Snow White. I asked myself only one question:

How can I make it darker?

Yet the truth behind the Snow White mythos is that it was fairly dark to begin with. All of Grimm's tales were told as manipulations to get children to behave and it was not until mush later, until Disney, that the tale was told to woo and soothe and trick young girls into thinking that the beautiful will prevail whil the old, the ugly, and the infirm are untrustworthy.

The story of a young girl who is hated for her beauty and persecuted for it. How is that supposed to resonate with the impressionable young girls? Are we supposed to allow them to believe that looks count for all, and that it is only though meek servitude to your looks that one advances in life?













Beneath the pale, watery light of a sickened moon, Queen Amelin stumbled over the rough, twisted ground at the edge of the kingdom. Panting, weary, her feet caught a gnarled, ancient root and she fell to her knees, hands before her scraping the earth. as she stood, she wiped her palms against the grainy fabric of her stolen dress and grimaced at the sting. brushing aside the tangled locks of auburn that fell before her eyes, the desperate woman plunged onward, fighting for her footing as she navigated the hostile terrain.

Little life grew here, and the queen could not imagine the creatures that prowled this place the villagers called The Savage Pit. Looking around to get her bearings, she thought she could see the gleam from several pairs of eyes, and she prayed to all the gods and goddesses of the heavens and beyond to help her make it to the clearing, to where she must go. Amid the howling of wolves, Amelin could hear an unholy trio of voices rising on the stale, sick wind. For a moment, her heart fluttered and stopped. This is not the way, logic warned, yet she could not weigh reason against the emptiness within. I must, she promised, skirting the bleached bones of some long dead creature. Only they can help me now.

As she approached the clearing, she could feel a change in the air. The deep and pressing weight of night shifted and fuel clearer, sharper, more vibrant, and it crackled and hummed in her blood. At last she reached the cavern where the three sisters lived, and she watched from the shadow of an enormous tree as they danced around a fire, hair long and wild, limbs outstretched toward the night above. Queen Amelin envied them their freedom.
She thought them unfettered, bound to nothing and no one, unburdened as she was. Amelin could only pray that these creatures could deliver her from her own bonds.

The howling of another wolf, closer now, broke the spell of her thoughts, As if alerted by the animal to the queen's presence, the sisters slipped back from the fire and crossed the distance between them and the unfortunate soul seeking their aid. The first to approach was a fair haired, slender reed, luminous eyes the soft azure of an early summer morning. amelin marveled at the smooth alabaster flesh, unblemished and untouched by the ravages of time. Yet these beings are as ancient as the night, she cautioned herself.

"You must be weary from such a long journey, Your Majesty," the flaxen woman empathised. "Come, rest yourself before the fire and my sisters shall bring you cool water from the mountain stream." She reached for Amelin's hands and took them gently, lead her to the fire. Feet aching, amelin removed her shoes and rubbed the soreness from her soles. A sister hovered at the edge of decency, a wooden pitcher in her bronzed hands, Amelin nodded her permission, unsure if she should allow such reverence in this situation. when a queen beseeches aid from the ambassadors of the Other Realms, was one to stand on ceremony? No, she decided, one did not.

"Please, she said softly, "I am not here as queen. Please, do not behave as if I am."

The sister holding the pitcher laughed, voice soft and light, though not as airy as that of the previous sister. The sound seemed older, somehow, like finely aged wood, yet fresh as the first rays of dawn. Amelin admired the auburn rings that fell to the woman's waist, glossy in the firelight. If only I could get my hair to shine like that, Amelin thought.

"Be at peace, your Highness. Though we may address you in manners befitting your station..."

"...you are, before our fire, simply a woman in need, as are we all," finished the third sister. She had appeared, as if made of the very wind, beside the others. This one's hair, as dark as ink, fell in gentle waves along her back, curling at the ends by her bare, slender ankles. "When you are rested, please, let us know in what way we may be of service, Your grace."

She turned to her sisters and nodded. The middle sister handed off the pitcher and held now a tortoise shell of clear, sparkling water. She walked, seeming to glide, over the dry earth and knelt beside Amelin. the queen took it from her hands and sipped, savoring the refreshing water. Nothing in the kingdom tasted this good, she swore, and emptied the bowl.

"Are you hungry?" The ebon-haired mystic asked. "It is many hours travel from your house to ours."

Amelin noded. "A simple piece of bread is all I would need," she replied, keeping custom. She had no desire to appear rude by refusing their hospitality. The fair haied sister returned, bearing a chunk of bread and a smaller tortoise shell of thick amber.

As if in answer to Amelin's unasked question, she smiled. "It is wild rose honey, gifted to us by friends within the Other Realms. It will restore your strenghth," her fingertips brushed the queens cheek lightly, almost intangibly, "and your color. You are far too pale to make the long trip home without it."

Touched, Amelin accepted the offering and ate in silence, aware of their eyes upon her but comforted by their presence. All concern and unease faded the longer she remained among them, and she wondered briefly why the stories she had heard had been given any purchase. These women were kind and generous. why were so many in her kingdom afraid?

She dpped the hunk of bread into the honey and took a bit. It settled onto her tonge, melting awy slowly, and Amelin was overwhelmed by the sweetness, the rich fullness of the honey. The warmth and textre of the bread also melted against her tongue and she thought for a moment to ask if mortal man could hope to make such confections. At last she finished and brushed the crumbs from her lap. Indeed, she felt more centered, more herself, and the middle sister took the stone serving tablet from her. she reappeared a moment later and they sat, as if one, in one fluid simultaneous moment, around her.

when they spoke, though it was with one mouth, three voices broke the stillness, each a harmony of the others. Amelin watched the deep scarlet lips of the dark haired sister move.

"Queen Amelin, you have taken our hospitality and our offerings. We now ask only one thing of you."

"Speak to us of what lies within your heart."

"Speak to us of what troubled thoughts darken your fair brow."

"Speak to us the reason for your visit."

Amelin nodded and bowed her head. before she began her tale, she thought upon the words best to describe her suffering, sought entrance to that door within her heart that she kept guarded.

"The king has been a good and decent husband. He has attended to my every need and want. he has denied me nothing, and in turn I have given all I have. yet a warm body to lie beside at night and a favorable ear to listen is not enough.

"I have tried for many years to give him more, but I find, with each moon that passes, that I am unable. I do not know if it is my own failing that has kept us childless or his, but there are no more physicians that can offer us hope. I have given at the temple of the gods, and prayed at the temple of the goddesses, but still I am without child."

Amelin lifted her head, her wide amber eyes a shining wall of tears that threatened to spill with the least provocation. "I wish to give him this gift. Please, Sisters, is there anything that you can do?"

They nodded once, as one, and turned to each other. Amelin could sense a rapid discussion amongst themselves, but there was no speech, only the constant howling of the wolves. She closed her eyes, head bowed, and listened to the night around them.

The fire crackled and popped in the stillness. Amelin could hear her heart racing, her blood pounding at her temples. Beyond them, in the forest, creatures moved and scuttled and crawled through the brush. Crickets chirped longingly, their song mournful. As the sounds gained more of her attention, she heard her heat beating less. Amelin could sense the colors of the fire, the texture of the grain of the wood as it crackled and snapped. The heat moved against her in waves and if she stayed still enough, barely breathing, she could sense several beings on the the edge of her perception. They moved slowly, as if pacing, waiting.

Movement stirred her, though she did not raise her head, even when she felt them behind her, touching her hair. She heard a blade slice htough he air, felt a tug on her head. She allowed them to take a section of her locks, knowing intrinsically that they would not take more than they needed, nor take any from an obvious place. They knew the whispered words from the citizens in the kingdom. They knew how they were perceived. She believed they would not make her a target b altering her visibly enough for everyone to know where she had been. Amelin felt them leave her side and resume their place.

Long moments passed in silence, until at lst a decision had been made. The eerie triplicate voice broke the quiet. "We will help you, Queen Amelin of Nadari, Daughter of the Day and Night."

"We shall give to you a child that you may reawrd your husband for his kindness."

"Yet our gift does not come freely."

"Our magics are ancient, and we must obtain the things we need from the Other Realms."

"This will require many days and nights."

"You must not visit the temples in your kingdom until after the birth."

Amelin watched as they all spoke, each mouth forming the words in unison. "Though our magics are powerful, the spell would be undone. We fear what may become of you and your family should this happen."

The dark haired sister rose and took Amelin's hands in hers. "Go now, your Majesty. You do not wish your husband to worry should he wake to find you gone. We shall send word when we are ready."

Amelin rose, relief erasing the lines of sorrow and suffering from her face. to the sisters, Amelin appeared, in that moment, the young woman she once was when summer was high and she was but a girl in love.

"Thank you" she whispered, at a loss to express her sincerity and gratitude. the middle sister held out her cupped hands; she held a small star, its light pulsed and glowed.

"Please, Queen Amelin, take this to ease your passage back to your mount. When you are safely upon your horse, it will leave you and return to it's rightful place within the night sky."

Amelin bowed and took the light. "Thank you. I am truly humbled by your kindness and hospitality."

The three sisters nodded to her and to each other and retreated to the cave. Amelin had been dismissed, and began the arduous jouney back to the even plains where her horse rested beside a gurgling stream beneath a large shade tree. The star exposed to her the perils of the landscape, easing the strain of such a difficult journey. When she reached the clearing where the grass grew again, she untied the sleek black beast. Smoothing his nose, reintroducing herself to him, she smiled as he neihged in greeting.

The beast lowered his head and nudged her hip, seeking somethingmore substantial than greens. Laughing, she produced a carrot from the folds of her cloak and laid it on her palm, keeping her fingers flas she his whiskered mouth trembled over her flesh, taking the vegetable between powerful jaws.

"We must return home quickly," she warned, "or he will know I have been out. though I have no heart to lie to him, I fear he would not understand what I have done for us. For the kingdom. The three sisters will give us a child. that is all that matters now."

Amelin mounted her ride and gazed out across the gentle sloping plain at the majesty of her lands. The kingdom of Nadari stretched itself out before her, and she thought, not for the first time, how very much like a woman it all looked, all the hills and valleys, like a woman lying on her side. Amelin's heart beat quicker against her chest at the beauty of it. She rubbed her horses neck, urging him on silently. Amelin hoped they could return befor the sun broke.



Keeping to the shadows and away from the main roads, they raced headlong into the fading night, hoping that her will could hold back the dawn. In her mind, she was already home, running over plans of entry that would limit her contact with the guards. Dear Leovan, for whom the servant gossip would mean nothing, would remain blissfully unaware of this trespass if she could but slip in quietly though the lesser used passages. yet, before she could sleep she would need to hide the dress she wore, stolen from her handmaid for just this trip.

It occured to her that Jovar, the stablehand, may have packed her saddlebags when he saw her at the paddock earlier in the day. Pale and thin, he had stood in at the gate, leaning on a pitchfork with the sun rising behind him . His eyes were kind and soulful, filled with unnatural wisdom. It was rumored, among the servants, that he had been born to the widow Maphalia by the three sisters, and that his birth had been a dangerous blending of their own souls; the boy was now as much Maphalia's as the three sisters. Amelin could see the resemblance; His flesh was been as pure and milky as that of the flaxen haired sister, though his eyes and his mouth held the shape of the middle sister, but he possessed the quiet power and ethereal beauty of the raven haired sister. Only the long lashes framing his eyes, and the soft voice belonged to Maphalia's line.

Amelin doted on him in secret; each evening she would leave a small token of affection in the stables where he slept. If she could have crafted her own child, she believed it would have been Jovar. The night before she decided to seek the three sisters and she stole the dress from her handmaid, Amelin had left a thick blanket of the deepest, ruchest burgundy wool, soft as spun clouds and warm as a mother's embrace. The long days would turn to longer, cooler nights within weeks, and she could not bear to think of him shivering in the dark.

yes, Jovar had seen her earlier in the day. She pulled her mount to a stop alongside the path she travelled and searched though her packs. As he had done many times before when she rode, Jovar had gicen Amelin a fesh pair of clothes and clean linens to dry with, should she feel the need for a swim.

Amelin smiled and looked ahead to the castle looming on the horizon. Guards paced the walls in a ceaseless arch. Above them, the royal colors of rich blood and darkest night, topped the parapets and she gazed in breathless amazement as the streaming banners ran in the predawn wind. It never ceased to strike her how majestic, how truly impressiver, her home was. The first trumpets of dawn heralded the begining of the day; she was too late. Leovan would rise soon and reach for her, as he had done every morning for five years now, and he would find her place beside him empty, as barren as her womb.

Would he notice the lie upon her lips, or would he accept anything she told him so long as she did so with a smile? Amelin turned her mount away to the west and eased her way along hidden passages to a decadent pool where she and Leovan had met late at night during their courtship. He seemed so different then, and while her heart ached with a deep, abiding love for both men, for man who had taken her to be his queen and for the man she woke to every day, she could not help but miss the former.

She blamed herself; if she could give him a child, she could give him purpose beyond simply ruling a kingdom. She coud give him that fire again, that thirst for hapiness that she so missed. Her moods raged uncontrollably at times, though she tried to keep it between them, yet she feared he often misundersotod the souce of her unhappiness. He thought it was him, but in reality it was only her emptiness. His patience will run out, she feared, and I will be alone.

she stripped herself bare and dove into the water. Though she knew it would be cold, the shock siezed her lungs and stiffened her limbs. Slowly breathing out, she forced herself to move. after several passes from one side to the other, she pulled herself free of the water and dried herself off before dressing in the breeches and tunic Jovar had thoughtfully packed. Her horse chewed the leaves from nearby trees and stopped when she approached.

"It's time, my old friend," she whispered. She scratched lightly behind his ears, along his neck. She still had time to decide how much of this night to tell her husband.





As the first trumpts of the day resounded in the silence of the morning, King Leovan, Ruler of Nadari, rolled onto his side and stretched his arm over the nonexistant body of his wife, Queen Amalin. his arm came to rest on the bedsheets, and he opened one bleary cerulean eye. His gaze, uncomprehending for long moments, came to stop at her pillow, unused. he called for her, thinking her in the adjoining chamber enjoying an early morning bath, but the resounding silence was his only response.

Gone for a walk, I suppose, he sighed. The empty space beside him reminded him of Amalin, of how she suffered. Dragging his hand over his shaggy chestnut mess, he sighed again and hoped that, wherever she was, she was well. He hoped she was smiling. It had been so long since she had granted anyone a genuine one. Leovan thought it was him, this life, this castle. Though only seven years older than his wife, he was old, felt so deep in his bones. Leovan, unlike other kings, remained a laborer and he strain of his days, he believed, was breaking down his body.

Leovan believed it was his fault that they remained without a child. He knew of the stable boy, the strange creature given to the Widow Maphalia by the three she-demons who lived in The Pit. His father's father, having learned the truth about those vile creatures, had set fire to their cottages and salted the earth around them, and the Royal priests and priesteses bound them to that hateful place, yet still they lived. few but the desperate and foolish ever sought them out, and though he had not approved, he understood Maphalia's desire for a piece of her husband to remain in this life. yet the boy was certain strange, and seemed to wiser than his young years.

And his own wife yearned for him, yearned to hold the boy and sing him lullabyes, yearned to kiss away his scrapes and teach him how to be the man a woman would respect and need. Leovan had watched her, night after night, bring him gifts and leave them in the stable for him. There were times he caught Amalin standing on their balcony, watching the boy run the horses in the paddock below. If Jovar noticed, he would sometimes raise a hand and wave, and Amalin would return the gesture with a blissful smile of her face, with eyes that welled out of barrenness.

Amalin, my love, come back to me, he begged silently, and for a moment he wondered if the Amalin he was pleading with was the one missing from his bed, or the young and vibrant woman he had fallen in love with. No, he loved them both but that did not mean they were the same.

A knock at his chambers roused him from his thoughts. Pulling on his bressing robe, he strode the distance and swung the wooden double doors open. The guard before him reflexively bowed his head.

"My lord, the Queen Amalin has been seen outside the castle walls. it appears she went riding early, but there are no reports of what time she left."

Leovan chuckled and placed his hand on the man's shoulder, gave an amicable squeeze.

"All is well, I am sure Amalin simply wanted some air. Thank you for your service, Ronaro. Relax a bit, perhaps."

Ronaro nodded one, a quick whip of his head. "As you wish, My Lord. Shall i have the servants bring you something to eat?"

"If you would. I believe I will take it on the Balcony. and please, whenthe queen returns, let her know how deeply i have missed her."

"As you wish, My Lord."

Ronaro slipped away and Leovan, his morning ritual now disturbed by the absence of his wife, wandered his chambers. The doors opened and Amalin, cheeks flushed, rushed into the room.

"Leo!" she cried in delight. Amalin ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him passionately, deeply, as if she had been away from him forever. When she pulled away, he held her arms, smiling, wondering what she had been up to. there was a newness to her skin, a light in her eyes he had not seen in ages. he was unable o help herself.

"So what have you been up to, my dearest?"

"A swim. I couldn't sleep. I..." Amalin bowed her head and brushed the hair away from her face. "I've been awful to you. I'm sorry."

"Amalin..."

"i know. But I think things are going to turn around for us. i want things to turn around for us."

He touched her cheek, fingertips gracing the curve of her face. why must she drag to light these things, he wondered. It only brings the darkness. "Amelin, Amelin. We are fine. I swear it. And while there have been moments when you have been...difficult, I know your heart. All is well, my love."

Smiling, she fitted herself in his embrace, and tucked her head beneath his chin. He always did this, blamed the issues at hand. Amelin was glad he did not press her. She knew Leovan's opinion of the Sisters, and she was not certain if his desire for a child could overcome an ancient prejudice, even if it was one he no personal atatchment to.

When they pulled away from each other, Amelin stripped and retrieved a suitable gown from an ornately carved armoire at the far end of their chambers. Leovan washed his face in the basin beside her, watching her surreptitiously in the mirror.

"The red is quite becoming against your skin," he observed as she adjusted the bodice. He smiled at the play of light over her ample clevage. Smiling, she held his gaze while playfully fingering the thick froth of lace at the deep squared neckline. Leovan flushed and cleared his throat. Amelin ran her hands over the glossy black leather of the fitted corset, down the full skirt that barely brushed the floor and exposed only the toes of her pointed shoes.

"It is a shame we must begin our day," she sighed, picking up an engraved silver comb from the dressing table. It slid easily though her dark auburn waves and she pulled it back, twisted up, and pinned it into place with two wooden sticks tipped with sparkling rubies. Leovan approached, stood behind her and rested a pendant on her chest, the large ruby nestled at the begining of the cleft of her breasts. Fastening the clasp, he leaned forward and whisperd something into her ear, causing her to blush.

Amelin knew what would come next. It was a familiar dance, one repeated day after day, yet was not stale. The crown, simple and elegant and fitted just for her, came to rest where it always did. When she opened her eyes, the sight caused her stomach to flutter with a thousand butterflies. Looking to the side of her reflection, she smiled. Leovan looked so hansdome, his hair ruffled and decorously unkempt, stubble darkening his chin, and his own crown perched atop that beautiful head. Whatever issues they had, she loved him, both the man he had been and the man he had become.

There was a knock at the door, and Leovan commanded entrance. The serving maids brought in a small cart, laden with fesh brewed tea, fresh breads and berries, and a small bowl of cream, was brought to the balcony, and the royal couple followed. Breakfast was a quiet affair, filled with discussion of the days events, and she fought to restrain herself from telling him of her news.

It filled her, overwhelmed her, and she could feel the words dancing on her tongue. She had to ask herself often as the day progressed why she did not just tell him. Better that he be aware of it, and know where their blessnig came from, wasn't it? But as the day wore on, and she fought to keep herself focused on the tasks at hand.

Several days passed this way, and the seret was becoming unbearable to keep. She felt it was an monstrous being that sat with her wherever she went, and often she wondered if others could see it. Finally, as the twilight spred its darkening wings across the sky, she took Jovar's gift, a leather- bound journal scored with the image of an owl on the cover, and made her way to the stables. Jovar lie on his bed, also a gift from Amelin who had tired of seeing him on a imple pallet, reading by the light of a lantern he had placed in a metal pan filled with water.

"It is so the fire will not travel, should I accidently overturn the lantern," he offered quietly, answering the question she had yet to form.

"You are a thoughtful boy, Jovar. I..." Amelin lowered her head, searching herself for a sign she was wrong in coming here to speak with him. "I have brought you a gift." When he did not object, she entered his space and sat upon a wooden crate he had turned over to serve as a chair.

She set the book beside him and placed her hands in her lap. Jovar, sensing something in Amelin, set his own book aside and sat up. "Is there smething on you mind, My Lady?"

"Please, call me Amelin. I wear no crown here, you know this."

"You seem both happy and unhappy."

Amelin paused, looking within for the words. "Do you know that Leovan and I have no child of our own?"

He nodded, searching her face. "i do. I am sorry, Amelin. I know how difficult that it for you."

"You mother Maphalia had no child once, and the desire for one nearly led her into madness. I can understand this. Sometimes, if I am honest with myself, I understand too well."

"And so you went to them, The Sisters of Fate."

Amelin chuckled. "Is that how they are known?"

"No, it is only what they are. Will they help?"

She nodded.

"Then it appears they do not hold King Leovan responsible for events of the past."

"I had heard rumors, but Leovan will not speak of these things."

"If the Sisters of Fate have given you their word, then what came before has no bearing. Have you told your husband?"

Amelin shook her head. "I do not know if I should. I want to, but I fear that he may react badly. I want to believe that he would be so happy he would not care how but does the manner in which we conceive matter? I do not know if he would look at and treat our child differently, as others do to you. Is it difficult for you?"

Jovar pulled his knees to his chest. "i know it is only that they fear me. They do not understand. They are but simple people."

"Do you consider them you mothers?"

Though he did not answer, he sdid not ignore the question. "In our lives, all women are our mothers. All women are aspects of the divine, as all men are our fathers and aspects of the divine, aswell."

Amelin watched his eyes and reached out, brushed errant locks from his face. "you are such a handsome young man, Jovar, and wise beyond your years. I do not fear you. I hope I have a child just like you." as she rose, she leaned forward and gifted him with a light kiss upon his brow. "Good night, Jovar. I hope your dreams are pleasant."

As Amelin treaded across the lawn to the castle, the act of confessing eased her mind. Jovar had been the perfect one to confide in, being a gift himself from the Sisters of Fate, and she felt closer to him than she had before. They had spoken freely before, but never about his lineage, if it was to be considered as such. When next they spoke, she would ask him more on the rumors she had heard, and learn just why the commoners, though she hated that term, hated the Sisters.

Leovan was waiting for he when she returned, and they retired to the sitting room. Amelin laid back, head in her husbands lap as he stroked her hair.

When he spoke, his tone ws halting, tentative. "He is not your son, my love."

Amelin sighed wistfully. "I know. But I can not explain it, Leovan. he is just the boy i wish were mine, were we to have a boy."

"And what if it were a girl?"

"I would want her to be like Jovar, still. Our child will be soft and king and thoughtful. She or he will be charming and sweet but will know how to care after themselves."

"It would have your eyes, my love."

She laughed. "And your mouth. you have a beautiful mouth."

"All the better to devour you with, my love," he whispered, and lowed his fcae to hers.

Amelin welcomed his kiss, her arms encircling him as he shifted his weight and lifted her into his arms. He stood, carrying her, and her hands moved to his hair, threaded in the locks. She writhde in his embrace and he lowered her to the floor, where she sttop upon her toes, fingers tracing down along his face, his arms, and began to unbutton his tunic. His own fingers trembled at her back as he undid the laces of her bodice, an d her gown suddenly fell away from her. shivering but taking no notice of the chill, she removed the obstructions barring access to his flesh and stepped into him, pressing herself against his heat.

Her breathing quickened.


His hands explored

* * * * * passaage to come later * * * * *



Word from the Sisters of Fate came in the night, upon the rise of another full moon.

Amelin lay in a tangle of sheets, pursued by fevered dreams in which she was haunted by a sound whose source she could not find. The landscape had altered, become harsher, and there no soft corners to be seen. Everything was harder, shaper, and grated painfully against her skin. She looked down at herself and touched her fingers to her abdomen, but there was a missing section and her hand went though to her back. Crying out, she wrung her hands together and fled, searching for the sound. Each place she searched revealed only emptiness and endless frustration until she ran to the large old tree in the center of the courtyard. Jovar knelt at the base of the sylvan sentinel, an acorn in his hand. He seemed to be inspecting it as h turned it this way and that. As Amelin neared, he turned away and began to walk to the gate at the other end of the courtyard.

"Wait," she called. "Jovar, wait for me!"

Leovan stepped between them, his face lined with age and concern. "You must not follow him, Amelin. That way can only lead to madness. Here, let me take this," he offered and reached into her chest. He pulled back his hand and she watched her heart drip and beat, pulsating in his grip.

Amelin sat, eyes wide. Leovan stirred, but did not wake. Throwing back the covers, she slipped easily from the bed and eased her feet to the floor. The cold ran up her legs, and once she was accustomed to it, she wrapped a shawl from the foot of the bed around her and went out to the balcony. Below her, the kingdom slumbered peacefully with thin tendrils of smoke drifting lazily up from the cottages and huts dotting the landscape.

The only signs of life came from the stables. Jovar had set lanterns around the paddock and was stringing banners along the rails. At one point the stopped and picked something from the ground and turned it over in his hands. Recalling her dream, Amelin gasped and hurried to find her shoes. She had to see him, she realized. She had to see if her dream had anything to do with the Sisters of Fate. Slipping her feet into her slippers, she crept silently from the royal chambers and fled the castle.

The guards posted outside the exits nodded in greeting. Explaining that she wished to visit the stables, that she was having trouble sleeping, they let her pass and watched her long, measured strides. Jovar looked up as she approached and smiled shyly.

"Have you something of interest there, in your hands?"

The boy held out his treasure for her, a small worn stone in the shape of a heart. "I had thought to leave it in your pack next time you ride, My Lady."

"For me?" She took it from him and turned it over and back again, fingering the smoothness. "It's lovely, Jovar. Thank you." Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead.

"It's only that you've given me so much already. I thought perhaps I could at least give you something pretty."

"I thank you again, Jovar. It is truly lovely." Amelin paused to admire the banners. They were umber, crimson, and gold, and heralded the coming autumn. Followers of older faith, older than that of the temples .

Jovar turned his gaze from Amelin's soft smile to the crags in the distance that marked the savage lands where the Sisters of Fate waited.

"I think we should go back now."

Amelin followed the direction of his vision and felt a chill. Why? Amelin wondered, Why should this fill me with such a sudden sense of dread? These women are going to help me, and yet I can not help but fell that something terrible will come of this.

"Tonight? Are you certain? The dark haired sister said they would send for me."

Jovar nodded. "It is time. I have readied a mount for you that will take you there quickly. You should reach the crags at the edge of the valley in half the time, and be back before the trumpets sound."

"You said 'we'."

At this he lowered his head and turned back to her. "You will, no doubt, feel strangely when you are to leave. I will ride with you and wait at the edge, if only to ensure that you arrive home safely."

As if on cue, a pure white stallion entered the paddock and sank on its front legs. For a moment, she could only stare, with child-like awe, at the creature before her. It was only a moment, and then Amelin recovered herself. She mounted the beast, having to hold her nightgown at her hips to accommodate her rides broad back. Jovar lead his own white horse from the stables and mounted easily.

"Are you ready, My Lady?"

Amelin chuckled. "And if I said I was not?"

"Then you would return home to your sorrow and there would be no hard feelings."

"Well," Amelin sighed, "then I suppose it's time for us to go."
Hey made the trip as Jovar had predicted, and he lit for her torch to guide her across the yawning, toothed darkness. Having navigated the terrain alredy, and armed with flame, the going was easier for Amelin and she achieved the cave intact.

The sisters stood before the bonfire in long flowing silks wrapped decorously around their bodies, a celestial glow about them. Again, as before, Amelin's unease faded into nothingness in the presence of such benevolence. While she drank an offering of cool water, she saw the space that must have been meant for her.

By the fire, the three sister had laid out a long, low table with earthen pots, silver goblets, long white cords, and a small dagger. Amelin moved to the table and stared at the weapon; its blade caught the glow of the fire. The handle was made of simple wood, glossy after so many years of contact. The flaxen haired sister picked up a length of cord, and the middle sister, she of flaming hair and laughing eyes, appeared beside Amelin with a white silken stretch of cloth.

The dark haired sister bowed her head a moment. She took up the dagger and approached Amelin.

"If you are ready, Queen Amelin, Daughter of Night and Day, we shall begin."


The sisters moved slowly, deliberately, yet it seemed to Amelin that only moments had passed since they had bound her hands, wrists bared skyward.

"We will not hurt you," they offered in unison. "But we must take your blood. Yet we may only take if it is offered freely, and only enough for our purpose tonight."

"I understand," she whispered, beginning to feel uneasy again. "I give you my blood freely."

One of the sisters held her hands while another blindfolded her. She felt a tiny nick against each wrist, and thin streams of blood flowed slowly. The mouth of a chalice pressed against the heels of her palms and was taken away. Amelin heard a succession of indrawn breaths and then nothing. The blindfold was removed and the queen's wounds were dressed.

In the fire was a large cauldron, and the middle sister poured the contents of the chalice into the yawning chasm. Amelin watched as they took the earthenware pots from the table and emptied them into the mixture. Fragrant smoke rose into the night.

"When it has finished, you must take this with you. Each night, you must take a single sip before bed. When this elixir is finished, smash the bottle into the fire."

"Why must I avoid the priests and priestesses?"

The red haired beauty took her hands and turned them over, the heel of each palm. "We do not ask that you avoid them, for that would bring undue suspicion upon you. We ask only that you not allow them to perform their rituals upon you, for that would interfere with the magics that we have begun for you."

"We do not hold your husband responsible for the sins of the past, yet we also do not believe he differs in belief from many in your kingdom. But you are kind to our son and have shown him more love and tenderness than his own mother."

The fair haired sister began to pour the strange liquid into a glass bottle. She handed it to Amelin, who held it gently in her hands. It was warm, and the elixir inside was a translucent red.

"May I ask what is in it?"

"Of course, Amelin. A selection of herbs, dew form a thousand wild roses, and our blood. Yours, and ours. There is nothing that would cause you harm or illness.

"But why blood?'

The dark haired sister smiled benevolently, as if explaining why the sun rises to an eager child. "Because it is sacred. Because the strongest of our magics lives within it. And now, before you go, you must eat this."

She handed Amelin a small round confection. It was smelled of cocoa. "It will open you to receive the energies of the Other Realms."

As she ate it, taking small bites to savor the heavenly taste, the middle sister busied herself with passing her sisters small glasses of the same translucent liquid. The drained the glasses in a single pull.

"Be warned, Queen Amelin, you may feel strange for the remainder of the evening. Straight to bed with you."

They bid each other farewell, and Amelin trekked back to the edge. Jovar smiled when he saw her.

"How are they?" He asked. Amelin could hear the awed trepidation in his voice.

Amelin returned his smile and kissed his brow. "I believe they miss you, though in truth we did not speak much." She mounted her horse and held tight to he reins, feeling lightheaded, as if she had partaken of too much wine at a ball.

"Easy, My Lady. I shall have you home soon."

They rode in silence and Amelin watched the scenery pass in a multicolored blur. For fear of falling, she gripped the reins tighter and watched drops of blood well upon her hands from the grooves her nails dug.

Suddenly her vision dipped and swam, and went black. When next she woke, she was in the sitting room of the royal chambers, staring into the fire.

She wondered What am I doing here? How did I get here? Trying to recall her evening, she remembered the bottle. Taking it into her hands, she uncorked the mouth and took a single sip. She staggered to the bed, where Leovan still lay sleeping, and removed all her clothing and fell into bed gracelessly. Sleep stole over her without mercy, plunging her into darkness. She slept through the dawn trumpets, and past breakfast, and Leovan et her sleep because she looked so peaceful.

It almost seemed to him that she glowed. He thought it was her midnight ride, or even their fevered lovemaking when she returned, distracted and disheveled. He'd fallen asleep so quickly afterward, as if no longer possessed by some lascivious demon, yet she had remained awake and had gone into the sitting room, herself seeming to be possessed.

Yet once she woke, she was sweet and had no recollection of their passionate rendezvous, but oh, how she glowed. For days that turned to weeks, she glowed each day until one evening, as they stood upon the balcony admirig the changing leaves, Leovan turned to her and touched her rosy cheek.

"My love, you look simply divine."

Amelin giggled, blushing as if she were a virgin maid after her vows. "Thank you, my lord. It must be the refreshing autumn air."

"No, I think it is something more, something…" He paused, gazing at her, his head cocked to one side. His brow furrowed in concentration. "By the Divine, Amelin! Are you at last with child?"

Still blushing, Amelin turned her head away. Leovan reached up and turned her face back to him with a finger. "You are, aren't you? My love! Amelin, this is amazing! We must go to the temples in the morning and ask for the blessings of the divinities! Now, you must come to bed, you must have rest. Do you feel well?"

Amelin could only follow, wide eyed with disbelief, as he led her to bed and gently undressed her. As she squirmed beneath the sheets to find her comfort spot, he tucked the bedding around her and bent to kiss her brow.

She had only just realized that she had not passed blood this week, as she was meant to, and the elixir the sisters had given her was nearly gone. It was refreshing to see Leovan so elated, yet she hopes she could come up with a suitable excuse for missing out on the tour of the temples. Had it been any other reason, she would have gone and participated in the blessings ceremonies, but this was her child she was risking, and she thought again of the sisters warning. She had no wish to submit her unborn child to undue risk.

As she lay back beneath the covers, she wondered how on earth she was going to escape the temples until her child was born.



The elder priestess, a gnarled and withered old crone with broken teeth the color of rotting corn husks, shook her fists. Her ravings were heard only by Leovan, who stood silent in a corner, arms folded around himself. He stared out the window and tried to think of other things, but he could see only the hurt and confusion in Amelin's eyes when he confessed his need to consult the priestesses. There was no way for him to take back what had been said, or change the course of events their lives had taken; all that was left was to move forward and try to navigate the rugged terrain that lay before them.

The elder of the temple screech in horror as she railed against the myriad sins both Leovan and his wife had committed. The child, she declared, would be an abomination unless she alone interceded, upon the will of the Unnamable Goddess. She only prayed it was not too late, and Leovan swallowed a hard lump of fear. For a moment, the nagging at the back of his mind questioned whether coming to the temple had been a terrible idea.

Leovan was commanded to bring Amelin to the temple immediately. He told her he did not think she would come willingly and the crone laughed. If she would not come by kindness, then bring her by force. Leovan told her he did not think he could, and the woman laughed again, yet there had been no mirth in any sound she had made. Beneath the power of her persuasions, there lie a darkness Leovan feared more than anything. Without saying another word, he stormed off into the mists of an autumn afternoon.

As he walked back to the castle, to the heartbroken woman he had left upon their bed, each leaf he kicked aside served only to remind him that life, despite their better intentions, only spiraled farther out of control the more they tried to assert their dominance.

Amelin was dressed in black when he arrived., and seated on the bed. Her eyes were red and puffed; he knew she had been crying and the truth of the matter, that he had caused her tears, cut into him deeply.

Closing his eyes, he sighed. "This is not easy for me, my love."

"Do not call me that," she growled through clenched teeth. "If you truly loved me you would not do this thing."

"It is my love for you that moves me, Amelin. You have put me in an impossible position. Do I deny my love for my faith, or my faith for my love?"

"your faith has put you in an impossible position! You blindly follow the wisdom of an old woman for whom all life is only a sermon in motion. You carry the burden of maintaining an ageless feud, yet you expect me to bar the weight as well, and I cannot! I cannot subscribe to the belief that the women who gave me the opportunity to carry this child, our child, are evil based on a past that I was no part of! And it is wrong of you to demand it!"

"Amelin, those women are harpies, evil and depraved and inhuman, and you have no patience for the past, or I would have told you."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head slowly. "No, no, no. You id not tell me because you wished to keep me safe, but the past can hut no one, Leovan. The past is but a mark upon the wall of time. You! You were the only one who could hurt me and you have. If you take me to them, to the temple, it will only end in suffering."

"Amelin, please, she only wishes to ensure there is nothing wrong. Is that so terrible?"

"If I had not been warned against it, it would not. Let me just have my child, and then we will ask the sisters if it is advisable. Please, Leovan, let me have my child."

"You may, Amelin," he said quietly, and she trembled as the lights in his eyes died, and the cold, dead things in his head stared back. "But after you see the Elder Priestess."

Leovan left and bolted the door closed from the outside. Trapped within the royal bedchamber, Amelin could only scream and weep.