Averna's Crown

Averna falls atop a mountainous region. Waterfalls cascade down the chiseled cliffs. Misty forests line the walls of the country. The people worship their queen. She brought peace to this region years ago. Villages are scattered across the queendom, each with its own flag, and it’s own representatives. May suns bring flowers and greenery, but along with them... sorrow. 

Amira falls ill. Averna’s fearless leader bed bound and broken. The doctor arrives in her chambers carrying a medical bag a heavy prognosis. He speaks, “My queen, I’m afraid that your ailment is terminal,” His eyes shift to the ground, trying to avoid her reaction.

“Doctor Mcaurthurs, it’s okay. This day had to come at some point,” Her face drops and a tear forms on her waterline, “Though I wished it wouldn’t have come so soon, there are very few ways in which destiny can be bent,” She lounges in her bed and contemplates her fate. A few days ago she was out riding with Aldrich and and attending government meetings. Now she has a death sentence. Mcaurthurs turns to leave and the queen asks, “And doctor, send in my advisor, it’s time for their trials.”

His dark shoes tap the marble floor. His reflection glowing on the polished tile. As he advances down the halls, his hand brushes the gilded walls. The doctor comes upon him and bows, “Sir,” The man in the tailored suit passes by rolling his eyes at Mcaurthurs. He pushes open the grand doors and stands before Amira’s bed,

“Mother,” 

“Alaric, how have you been?” She asks and Alaric fails to respond. He paces the room and looks into her despair filled eyes. The doors open once again and the advisor emerges. 

Alaric squints his eyes, “My mother is ill. How dare you come in here unannounced!” The advisor begins to apologize, but Amira stops him,

“Alaric, I called him here.” Alaric’s fingers tap the table that stands beside him. He stares at his mother with disdain. Annoyed he storms out the room taking the golden knobs and slamming the entrance shut behind him. Coat jacket flowing as he goes. Amira watches the doors close and waits a minute to speak, 

“Mister Ackerman, lovely to see you again. My apologies for my eldest son,” She gestures to the doorway and adjusts herself on the bed. Ackerman brushes her off as the inconvenience was no big deal. The queen continues, “As you know, I’ve taken ill. I’m afraid this condition is going to end my life. And it’s going to end it soon,”

“My queen, what does this mean for Averna?” The fear in his eyes could be spotted from a mile away. The grave expression sucks the life out of those around it. 

“Wynnstan. The fate of the Queendom hangs in the balance. We need to begin the trials. Their time is afoot. I will be making an address in front of all the citizens tomorrow. Set up the trials. The first will be taking place in half a fortnight,” 

“Of course my queen, I’m on it your highness,” He bows once more and begins to cross the room. Alaric, who is still standing behind the doors listening grows an evil smile on his face as he stiffens his posture and heads back towards the garden.

“And Wynnstan,” She addresses him. He whips his head around.

“Yes?” 

She stares dead into his eyes, “Don’t tell the children,” Amira has a talent for stating things in a way that puts the fear of god into her subordinates. Ackerman’s face drops as if gravity has a personal grip on him. He nods to her and keeps his lips promptly sealed. With a raise of an eyebrow from Amira, Wynnstan is running down the hall to fulfill his tasks. 

As they stroll through the pathways of the garden, Anastasia looks up to him and states plainly, “Brother? Have you ever noticed how greatly your dark features and clothes contrast these beautiful flowers,”

Alaric glances down at her before looking forward once more, trying to hide his half smile. He addresses her while he keeps on his course, “Oh Anastasia, you know how little patience I have for my siblings. Even you although you are my favorite,” At that Anastasia smiles and twirls around. He petticoat skimming the ground as she turns on her heels. They stop in front of a small pond and Alaric speaks again, “At least I’m not required to wear clothes that impair my lung capacity,” With that comment he looks into her eyes and just walks away.

Her brows furrow and she shouts, “You know it’s not my fault I’m a woman. You’re just upset that I’m surpassing you at the craft!” Without turning around he waves his hand at her and turns a corner. Anastasia lets out a deep sigh trying to convince herself that she had won the fight, but although she may run laps around him when it comes to the ancient texts, his wit will always one up her. 

The next day the queens handmaiden helps her into her gown. Lacing up the corset bodice pulling in her waist. The white dress falls down and trains on the ground. Amira chimes, “Oletha, have I ever told you how much I appreciate you. You are not only a friend, but my family. And you’re the only one with the sense to call me by my real name,”

“Amira, don’t do that,” She demands with a frown.

“Do what,” 

“Don’t do the thing where you say goodbye. Where you get all profound and deep and confess your true feeling to me. It’s depressing and I don’t want to think about it right now,” She treads over to her display case in her dressing room. Grabbing the crown that best matches Amira’s dress, and a few accompanying accessories. With a deep breath and a fake smile they head out into the world, joining the kids in the hall. 

Anatasia speaks up first, “Why are we adorned with weapons and objects that seemingly make no sense,” Her favorite bow with the phases of the moon carved onto it is crossed over her green bodice like sash. Aldrich has the family crest pinned on his lapel and his sword is sheathed at his side. Alaric’s silver scepter is formed by two intertwining snakes, symbolizing the great norse god Loki. And finally the youngest son, August carries a leatherbound book in his arms. All of Amira’s children are dressed to the nines, for they must look their absolute best for the address.

The queen responds, “You will all find out soon enough,” They step into their carriage and head towards the convention center. When the horses halt they know they’ve arrived. Amira takes a deep breath and readys herself for the chaos and confusion. August notices the nerves and tilts his head at her wondering what could possibly be going on. Why are they addressing the public while their mother is ill? Amira takes note and internalizes her panic. The royal family steps out onto the plateau stage to see the people of Averna. They erupt in applause and cheer as the family comes into view. The crowd silences and Amira speaks,

“You may be wondering why I’ve called this meeting, even my children are oblivious. I thought it only right for you to find out together. I’m dying,” The people cry out with gasps and tears, the queen is supposed to live forever. Not to mention that the kids are unravelling as the world watches. August falls to his knees. Anastasia breaks into a sob. Aldrich lets a solitary tear roll down his face in an attempt to stay strong for his mother. And Alaric, he stands stone faced. Unphased by the days news. After a moment she speaks up again as Oletha helps to get the children back in order, “We are beginning the trials of the throne. The heir who wins the most challenges will succeed me as the ruler of this great Queendom. Their are four tasks. Each plays into one of the children's greatest talents. The first is a trial of intelligence. A test on the history of Averna, for August,” August steps forward and holds out his book for the people to see before stepping back, “The next, a trial of bravery and battle. For my soldier, Aldrich. They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but they’ve never met a swordsman like my son,” Aldrich steps to the front and unsheathed his sword, “The third, witchcraft. Now this could represent two of my children, but with careful consideration, I’ve decided that the strongest warlock in this family is not a warlock at all, but a witch. The god Artemis has shone down on you Anastasia, blessed with the gift of magic and the aim of a true archer goddess,” Even with the grief she feels she fails to hide her smile. Finally something to get a leg up on Alaric. He stands with his arms crossed staring daggers at the youngest sibling. The oldest brother is always the hardest to beat, so she steps up, bow in hand with a twirl for spice. Amira finishes her speech, “The final trial is for my first born, Alaric. A name fit for a king. It will be a trial of wit, a trial of social leniency, and a trial of deception.” The scepter pounds into the floor as Alaric stands tall, where he believes he belongs. Above everyone else.

After the address is finished no words are shared between the royals. Just mellow sighs and long drawn out stares. All the way to the palace silence lays over them like a sheath, locking them in purgatory. 

About a week later the first trial has come upon them. Feeling overconfident, August acts nonchalant as he walks into the makeshift testing room in the library. He acts as if this test isn’t going to effect everyone in Avernas lives. The others are a bit nervous but they wouldn’t let anyone else know that, for all of them are too proud to show weakness. They are Amira’s children afterall. The bibliothecary walks in carrying a stack of papers bound by horse hide. He passes them out and announces, “Hello, I am Florence Aldene and I will be proctoring this exam with Eliphas Molloyi the warlock,” Eliphas glides across the room playing with a trinket he has suspended in the air, “I’m sure you all know Molloyi, some better than others. He will be making sure that no one uses any magic to cheat on this trial. You may begin.” With those words he stares directly into the eyes of the oldest and the youngest siblings as if they’re bound to cheat. 

August finishes first and strolls out of the archives perky and proud. Then, Alaric stands and hands his book to Aldene before he too disappears into the halls. With time fleeting, Anastasia and Aldrich begin to panic. Aldrich has always been well equipped with bronze, but brains may be lacking. The scales are tipped. Anastasia is sharp as a scythe, she always has been. Though Alaric regrets sharing the ways of witchcraft with her because she soon caught up with his excellency. Her mind is unfocused. All she thinks about now is the death of her mother. 

Both of the heirs pass in their tests just under the wire. They all try to relax that night by unwinding in the great hall, but Alaric is missing. He is hiding away in the dungeons accessing dark magic in order to grow stronger than any other. This type of magic is dangerous and it can corrupt even the purest of souls, although Alaric was power hungry to begin with. As he reads out encantations in mostly obsolete languages, clouds of smog begin to swirl around his feet and his strength is restored. Ready for the challenge tomorrow.

The next trial goes as anyone would expect. August lost almost immediately. He’s too clumsy to wield a sword and hold his own in a fight. Alaric is out next because he quit battle training to pursue an apprenticeship with Florence Molloyi.  With the strike of an arrow, Anastasia beats Aldrich at his own game. She is, in all senses of the word, a renaissance man.

These trials are driving a wedge into the siblings bonds. Aldrich refuses to speak to anyone, all he does is train and frown at Anastasia as she walks by. August is traumatized by the whole situation, he is only nineteen and all he wants is to spend time with his mother. The two are now attached at the hip. Wherever Amira goes, August goes. This type of behavior would typically only be expected of Anastasia as she is the youngest. Alaric and Anastasia are the only two in good graces. They go on walks and eat together. Anastasia is the only one who can break through Alaric’s rough exterior and gain access to his slightly less rough interior. Though they both have the feeling that the trial by witchcraft will tear them apart. 

When the trial begins, Anastasia sighs, “Are you guys serious? These spells, really? I could do these in my sleep,” She rolls her eyes at Alaric and he smiles back at her. Both of them are perfectly capable of completing their task. The real question is, who could complete it first. Anastasia almosts decides to fail the trial on purpose to salvage the relationship she has with her brother. Growing up a princess, she’s taught to trust no one; Alaric has always been there. It’s a love hate relationship, but it’s one she doesn’t want to live without. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to give up because in a matter of moments, Alaric is finished and on his way out the door. Typically she would not be surprised, but that was too fast. She wonders what’s going on with him. She fears he may be going down a road she cannot save him from. 

A week later the most grandiose trial is beginning. A gala is being hosted at the palace and the instructions are given. Amira speaks to them personally, “My children, the time has come. Tonight the final trial will take place right here in the ballroom,” She pushes open the doors to reveal the ballroom decorated from head to toe. The candles in the chandeliers lit up the ceiling to uncloak the gorgeous renaissance painting plastered across the sky. The queen continues, “The guests are waiting outside, but you all only have to focus on one. Her name is Fiona De Vend. She is a princess from Germany. You, my children will compete for her favor. By favor I do mean in the most savage sense,” 

Aldrich interjects with a slight laugh, “So the final, most highly spoken of trial is to bed some German royal?”

Amira’s gaze sharpens as she looks to Aldrich, “This trial is one of a social and devious nature. You will do everything in your power to sabotage your siblings. By the end of the night a new ruler shall be crowned,” She gestures to a glass case at the head of the room. There sits the sacred crown of Averna. Alaric’s eyes glaze over in lust. And the guests are let in. Amira whispers to them, “Let the game begin,” 

Anastasia is not the first to find Fiona. She trips and falls into her arms to grasp attention and take it from Aldrich. They speak for a while about the life of a princess. They even escape the ballroom to go for a walk in the garden, but the most Anastasia can get is a kiss under the stars. They return to the gala and part ways. 

All of a sudden the candles go out. Everyone left in complete darkness. Black fog pools around the ankles of present guests. The candles erupt in flames of ungodly height. All present are too scared to move. And in the middle of it all Alaric, his eyes glowing black and he releases his inner monologue, “See, I am the eldest son. In any other nation that would guarantee me the title of King, but here I have to fight with those unworthy of the throne. Averna’s crown belongs to me and if it’s not given I’ll take it. I’ve been waiting a long time for this. Mother, you have no idea how hard it is to create a spell that presents as a terminal ailment. There are way more effective ways to commit an act of murder. Or would that be treason,” He laughs and notices that people have started trying to escape. Through telekinesis he slams the door shut and locks them in. Then he snaps his fingers and their bones turn to ash as they burn from the inside out. Their screams a horror unknown to man. 

Those left are the royals, “Alaric, my own son. You did this to me?” She tried desperately to hold back tears as he summons a blade and throws it straight towards her heart. He summons two more fit for his brother’s destinies. 

Anastasia lies still on the floor. She waits for the blade, but it doesn’t come. She listens to the familiar clacking of his boots on the floor as he emerges in her vision. A crown atop his head, matting down the messy black hair. He bends down and holds her in his lap. She smiles at him, finding comfort in his gaze and a tear falls onto her skin. Alaric reaches below her skirt and grabs the dagger strapped to her thigh before she could notice. The pain overcomes him, but he can’t continue on without cutting all ties. He lets out the simply words, “I’m sorry,” As he drives the dagger into her chest. Hunched over the body he mourns, but as the emotions grow, the dark magic does the same.