One-shots

Masks of innocence

I stared at the mirror, unable to think. The blood on my gown, liquid-life spreading across the fabric, coming from a dozen cuts across my chest and shoulders, and a single knife sticking up out of my thigh. My crying son clutches at my dress, sobbing his four year old fears into my leg as the bloody scene imprinted on his memory forever. I turned my head to look at the room, barely daring to blink. My husbands dead body lay among a dozen other corpses, the sword that had killed him sticking up through his chest as he lay on the hilt, his dead eyes gazing at the ceiling. There had been so many, and I had almost killed my own son as I killed the murderers. A few words was all it took. I felt at exposed collar bone, feeling the gem they'd been after around my neck.

There was a candle on the nightstand, knocked over and close to the drapes. I stumbled to it, picking up my son as I did so without thinking, and put out the candle. I was the queen, the regent until my son could take his place as the ruler. I would have to give him the gem around my neck as proof, leaving us both defenseless and open to attack. Only a woman could use Sylannas tear for its intended purpose, a way to use magic without learning the craft; only... now I had a reason to become a heretic. I rung the bell above the bed, summoning a maid. She entered the room minutes later, screaming at the sight. Another older maid had accompanied her, and she ignored the carnage around the room, running instead to me and my son. "Mi'sera! Oh by Sylanna, you're alright, majesties. What happened?!?" I looked her in the eye, the shock finally wearing off. "Murderers. They came and killed John, and..." I burst into tears, collapsing into the arms of the woman.

The younger one had fetched the others, the oldest of whom helped the youngest clear away the bodies as a few butlers and heralds came and prepared the kings body for his death ceremony. I simply clutched my child and the maid, sobbing my tears into her shoulder. I had more reason than just my husbands death. I was going to summon my grandfather, a warlock spoken of in whispers by the common-folk, to teach me witchcraft in secret. I would become a heretic to protect my son from the monsters that would attempt to kill him. I had twelve years, until his crowning ceremony. Politics had managed to make a law that made it legal for foreign King's and rulers to attempt to assassinate each other on their sixteenth birthday, the day they would be crowned the ruler of their nation. My son... my son was now the holder of the only tear of Sylanna with the kind of power to conquer the other nations. He was a target waiting to be shot.

I wouldn't allow that to happen. I was going to use those twelve years as best I could, to learn the secrets that would save my sons life; even as they sent my own to Shoegh. The next night, I sat in my room, rocking my son to sleep, holding him in my arms as I sang my mother's lullaby. It was the only witchcraft seen as belonging to Sylanna, that of singing peace and healing to another. It was what kept magic in me enough for my grandfather to have accepted my request. I had enough that I could develop it into a cultivated power, allowing my next child, my sons future sister, to follow in my cursed footsteps if she chose. I cried as I sang to him, whispering words of comfort and love through my song. He wouldn't remember his father, I knew he wouldn't. He was too new to the world, too young and innocent to remember John.

I would remember him for the kingdom, and I would d*mn myself for the kingdom as well. They would call me a heretic, a demon, betrayer of my family and people; I wouldn't care, I didn't care. I could bear being hated, cursed, and even losing my soul; I didn't care if it kept my son safe. I bent down, kissing his forehead as I whispered to him. "Goodnight, Seris. Sleep well. And always remember, I... I love you no matter what." He simply breathed, unaware of my words as he slept.

_____time skip brought to you by: that one guy whose name you can never quite remember______

Seris stood, the sun shining down on him. The day was still, not a breeze in the sky. His mother had spent twelve years learning the healing trade from his grandfather, six of them spent also learning how to forge metal. She had made his crown herself, embedding his fathers gem inside it, a symbol of Sylannas blessing. Every kingdom had a tear of Sylanna, but his was the only one that had no specific effect. No one really knew what it did, but that was all the more incentive to claim it as a kingdoms own. He was wary today, asassins would inevitably be sent after him, and though his guards and staff were the best, no one was infallible. There was a very high chance he would die today. He was okay with that, what he couldn't bear was the idea that his people would be leaderless. The kingdoms only protection from the rest of the world stripped away, as the other kingdoms squabbled over the gem.