Heavy Heart

Authors note: I do not edit. I do not re-read. I am sure there are plenty of spelling and grammatical errors I'd like the reader to ignore. :D

It was raining when it happened. When the witch from Vinchistar stepped into the empty ivory and gold temple, guarded by statues of angelic hosts. Empty, that is, save for the Prince of Wiltonia, and Gregory, faithful aid to the prince.

Gregory turned his eyes to her the moment he heard the sharp click of her pointed toes on the cold tile floor. He opened his mouth to speak a warning to the Prince, who was knelt at the Shrine of Kathorna, palms outstretched and chanting, but he did not. Gregory knew the consequences of interrupting this ritual would not be a tongue lashing, which Gregory accepted frequently and at times, he would admit, with some pleasure. No, the consequences would not come for him. They would fall upon the prince.

There was no time for Gregory to weigh the wrath of the Gods against whatever evils the Vinchistarian witch came to wield before the crone, wasting no time, lifted a wrinkled hand, nails coated permanently with the dried blood of her defeated enemies, to the Prince.

“Your Highness,” Gregory croaked. But it was too late. From the witch’s hand a strand of blinding light, raw power, shot. The shot was straight and rapid, and, unfortunately for the Prince, for Gregory, and for the people of Wiltonia, struck the Prince in his back, directly between his shoulder blades, penetrating his heart.

“Your Highness!” Gregory shouted now, abandoning his post. He rushed to where the prince now convulsed, hands clutching his chest.

“Gregory,” the prince gasped, “what, what happened?” A green foam began spilling from the prince’s mouth as Gregory gently, but swiftly, lowered him to the marble floor attempting to ensure the prince did not hit his head and cause further damage to heir to the Wiltonian throne.

“A witch…” Gregory said as he moved between the prince and the witch, He drew the small dagger from his waist, the metal gleamed in the brilliant, shimmering temple lights fueled by the magic in the land. He pointed the shining tip at the witch.

“That will do you no good, Gregory,” the witch said, huffing a laugh as she glided forward with silent smoothness.

Gregory noted no clicking of her toes on the tile with the movement, his ears only registered the rain pounding on the roof and the roaring that was growing increasingly loud in his ears.

The witch stopped directly in front of him when Gregory realized that roaring was his own heart beating with rage.

“What have you done?” Gregory spat.

“I will not harm you, Gregory. Let us put that child’s play thing away,” the witch merely nodded and the dagger flew from Gregory’s hand into her own.

Calmly, she tucked the dagger under cloak, sighed, tilted her head for a better view of the prince, and smiled. “It appears he has almost made it through. The legs are always last,” said, scrunching her nose with delight.

Gregory peered at the prince over his shoulder. Horror filled him. What he saw confirmed that the evils this witch possessed were certainly far worse than any punishment or bad luck the gods could have bestowed upon the prince. For, when Gregory looked upon the prince, the prince whom he had served for nearly a decade and loved like a brother, he did not see his friend. Gregory saw round and bulging eyes sat either side of a smooth green head, short arms which ended in webbed feet, and before his own eyes, Gregory saw the prince’s legs transform from that of a man, to legs of an amphibian. The transition was complete. The prince had been changed into a frog.

Even more, as Gregory looked upon the frog prince, he saw his failing. A failing to aid the prince when he had needed it most. His failing to detect a threat to the throne he had sworn his loyalty and life to aid and protect.

“Reverse what you have done!” Gregory demanded.

“I cannot. Well, I suppose I could, technically, but I won’t. The curse which I have hexed your dear prince is one for him to break. He must learn. He must atone for what he has done. And, let me assure you, Gregory, this punishment is incredibly mild given the severity of the crimes he has committed against me and my people.”

Gregory knew not of the crimes the witch spoke of. He was always with the prince, if anyone was aware of the prince’s actions, his comings and goings, even his scheming, it was Gregory.

He knew the prince had certainly not had time to commit any crimes against the witch or Vanichistar. The prince had been under great pressure from his father to marry. Noble women had been brought to Wiltonia from kingdoms near and far. At first, the king had went to great lengths to find a match for the prince that would also provide some political advancement. But the prince had had refused more than just initial meetings with the women. The women, each one of them, were gorgeous, at least Gregory had thought so, and had often thought the prince a fool for giving none of them even a chance.

The prince did have a soft heart, Gregory knew. Although he had not voiced it, Gregory suspected one of two things. One, perhaps the prince was a hopeless romantic waiting for a love match at first sight. Waiting to meet a woman who would cause his heart to stop and the stars to fall from the sky. Or two, perhaps the prince could not bring himself to court a woman when there was already a woman, not only keeping the prince’s bed warm, but a woman he loved but could not publicly commit to because she was not nobility.

But, Gregory realized, that if he suspected the prince could keep a secret lover from him, it was indeed possible that the prince had wronged the witch in some way.

Gregory turned to the prince, “What does the witch speak of?”

The mouth of the frog prince parted, but the lips did not move as the voice of the prince came out, “Gregory, I… There is something I need to tell you.” But, before the prince could go on the witch cut him off.

“You did not know?” The witch cackled, the shrillness of it sent a chill through Gregory. “Your prince has been playing with magic. Magic that does not belong to him. What does that make him, Gregory? What does taking something that does not belong to them make a person?”

“A thief,” Gregory said, his mouth felt as if it were full of sand.

“Aren’t you smart. Your dear prince is a thief. You may also know the answer to this question, let us find out,” the witch wrinkled her nose again. “As you know, there is magic all across our continent. However, you also know that only some of us are magic wielders. I assume this is taught in your schools, is it not?”

Gregory nodded in agreement and the condescending witch went on.

“And you know that when a being who is not born a magic wielder attempts to do so, they are taking a risk. A risk that may harm not only themselves, but possibly others.” Her voice grew increasingly serious as she continued, “Harming others is something I will not allow. I will not stand by and allow my people, your people even, while someone is putting them in harms way. What is a person who puts others in harms way called, Gregory?”

Gregory tried to swallow while thinking of an answer to the question, but his mouth and throat were too dry and he was too stunned by the accusations against the prince to speak.

“Dangerous! Malicious! Reckless! Cruel!” The witch was shouting, her vocal intensity grew with each word and her eyes began to glow with white flame.

Gregory had to look away.

Accusations. These were mere accusations. They had not been proven. And who was this witch? She had made no introduction. She had presented no credentials. Perhaps she was just a loon, a witch misplaced in a kingdom not her own. Confused. As much as he wanted to believe the prince could not have been so foolish, his gut told him the witch spoke truth.

“Very well,” the frog prince said, “the Queen of Vinchestar herself has caught me.”

It could not be. This crone was the Queen of Vinchestar, Vermona Seabright. The queen known for her beauty, kindness and grace. Gregory had seen Queen Seabright all but once. It had been some years ago as Vinchistar and Wiltonia rarely had business due to age old and air tight treaties. Despite the meeting having been in years past, Gregory would never forget the striking appearance of Queen Seabright. He had been so stricken by her long blue hair, an ocean that flowed in waves from her head, and those gold eyes full of hope for all beings across their continent, he would never forget those eyes. Those eyes that had visited him in dreams.

In a blink, the crone transformed into the woman Gregory remembered. His breath caught in his throat as he beheld the pureness before him. He felt utterly unworthy to be in her presence. His cheeks flushed.

The frog price made an attempt to move forward, however, unused to mechanics of hopping, he stumbled as he tried to coordinate the movement.

Finally, standing on the same plane as Gregory, the frog prince looked up to his aid and said, “You are of no further use to me. You are dismissed.”

“But prince, I have served you for nearly a decade. I have given my oath and committed my life to serving you.” Gregory could not believe what he had heard the prince say.

“Indeed,” the prince clicked his now long and retractable tongue, “but, you have failed in your duties. I am now a frog because of you. Might I make but one request,” the prince directed the question to Queen Seabright. She raised her eyebrows, encouraging the prince to continue. “Turn Gregory into a fly so I might eat him.”

Gregory stood, gaping at frog prince. Was this all Gregory meant to the prince? Shock and hurt tore through him. He willed his eyes dry, willed them to not fill with pain and betrayal.

“Why do you look surprised, Gregory? You are my employee. You are replaceable. You are now a liability, thanks to Queen Seabright. You know my secret. My greatest sin. We are not friends.”

Gregory’s heart ripped in two.

Queen Vermona Seabright heard it. She heard and felt Gregory’s heart crack at the cruel words of the prince. She had endured loss. She had known betrayal. She allowed herself to remember those dreadful feelings that danced as shadows along Gregory’s face.

“No, Prince Alectus, I will not turn Gregory into a fly, and you would be wise to hold that tongue of yours.” The queen raise and hand, sealing the prince’s lips closed. “Gregory, I cannot take the hurt away entirely. But I can offer you some relief. If you agree, I will cast a binding spell that will cause your heart to be held together by chains. This does not heal, and the chains are heavy, but it may give you some relief.”

A heart cleaved in two. Could it ever be truly healed?

Gregory nodded in agreement. Perhaps the spell would at least allow Gregory strength not just to get through the coming days, displaced from what had been his norm for so long, but allow him to rebuild a life. Allow him to find a new purpose.

Much like the spell Queen Seabright had cast upon Prince Alectus, light shot from the palm of the Queen. But this light was different. It moved slowly and with a comforting warmth.

It did not hurt as the two halves of Gregory’s heart were placed where they belonged. But, as Queen Seabright had said would happen, his chest grew heavy as the chains formed. He could feel every metallic link connect and wind as tendrils wrapping and squeezing his heart back together.

When the last link had clicked, Queen Seabright gazed into Gregory’s eyes. “Be on your way,” she instructed.

Gregory took a step towards the grand doors of the temple. And another. And again another. With each step, the new weight in his chest became easier to bare. He would grow stronger, he would acclimate, and in time, he was certain he would not notice the weight.