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This story contains violence, mild sexual situations and mild language. There are scenes that are 'gory' and are very graphic. please, feel free to leave comments and vote for each part of the story you like. "May you live to fight well." RET :) House of Twells Press
Heirs to the Apocalypse
RONN E. TAYLOR
HOUSE OF TWELLS PRESS Copyright2013
CHAPTER ONE: "Prince Darben of Onus"
Her hands held the small infant's face to the flickering light of the lantern; there was now no mistaking what she saw. It wasn't a shadow created by a flash of lightning cast by the raging storm outside. Her delicate face twisted with disappointment. She had given birth twice before, yet never had she witnessed such a blight upon a child like this; especially a prince from her own womb. The womb of the very beautiful Queen Dedra.
Even his cry was unusual. It wasn't the reflective, forceful wail that announced his arrival into the world, but an unbearable, high-pitched protest, which proved difficult to tolerate. Queen Dedra seemed to refuse the instinctive nature of all mothers to cradle the crying infant close to her bosom, but rather was holding the babe dressed in swaddling cloth in her weary hands like a heavy, burdensome stone, falling inside herself as if into a deep well rummaging among relics for a treasure chest of compassion. Unfortunately, the well of her heart didn't run very deep.
She was pained with disappointment.
Searching for something within as she beheld the 'stained' face of the cursed cherub, hopeful her eyes could find something to adore. Had she been born a poor citizen of Onus maybe she would feel differently. Not all women were fortunate to have children, and of those who could, many died in the act of giving birth. Frail, young, malnourished bodies unable to withstand the trauma of childbirth being to blame. She would be angry with the 'gods' had she believed in them. But she wasn't a peasant born of low grade, she was a queen, and kings don't marry beautiful princesses for beauty alone, but also in hopes of having handsome and beautiful heirs.
Without so much as a look at her servant Louisa, the truculent queen slowly placed the crying infant back into her unsuspecting arms. Unsure of what to make of the queen's actions, a baffled Louisa held out hope for her queen. She just gave birth , she thought. Surely she suffers from stress and great fatigue.
"Your Grace, he is still a babe; there is time still."
But the naive smile of a young woman considered too old for marriage, only fit to remain in servitude to the crown, couldn't possibly understand. None of them could. Peasants! So critical of the The King and Queen. Try once to walk in the constrictive attire of Royalty.
She recalled the well-pleased smile of King Omron after the birth of Prince Omron II, and the jewelry he so graciously bestowed around her neck, commemorating the happy occasion. She recalled also the night he paced anxiously outside of her chambers at the arrival of Princess Octavia. His eyes couldn't drink deeply enough of her beauty. Now, it appeared his eyes had had their fill, at least that's how it seemed. Maybe his eyes had had their fill of her as well. Absent this night was the sound of feet pacing outside of her door.
They could never understand what it was like to be a beautiful queen.
Despite Louisa's words, the queen held to no such lofty delusions.
