King's Queen

His cloak felt heavy, his cowl was still warm. The slayer lies slain, but so is my dear King.



His might encompassed valleys, plains, gullies, rivers, oceans and tides; his domain reaching as far and vast as the rays of the sun. At his word - no, at his mere thought, wars are waged and won in his name, kingdoms are lost and lands are claimed. His contingents wore no vain extravagance nor fear or pity; no sooner would they draw blood as they raced to the battlefield on fleet footed steeds as they would plunder upon the vanquished and the fallen. Thus was his reign; thus was his power. Thus was the Ice King of the Hoarfrost North.

Flame touched, the traitor lies dead. He was burned, no, incinerated. He dared raise his dagger against the heart of the King, but he feared not the hands of the Queen.

My people are his people, joined to his in royal matrimony. His conquest of the Burning South almost led to the siege of the home town of my people. I had been the last among the line of the Fersaears, regarded as a princess but accursed as a woman in a land of blood-crazy barbarians. It was then an easy price that my people paid for their freedom under a foreigners reign. The Ice King, then a prince, accepted the gift quite delightedly, smitten by an uncommon face. The striking features of Kriev women, while neglected among their race, was a philter to the foreigners.

How long has it been since my hands last saw flame. How long has it been since my mouth last uttered the words: age-old, archaic, euphorically satisfying. Krieva would be pleased at the work of my hands today.

Worshiped and feared by the people of Kriev, Krieva is an enigma, a conundrum upon the barbaric and uninformed - characteristics of my people. Some say she was the last dragon, some the sun. The Old Mogul, the last of the true royalty of Kriev, further doomed the lore of Krieva to legends and myths; told around wartime bonfires to stoke the inner flames of Champions and Blood Seekers. He feared that knowledge would lead to complacency, and thus weakness.

I know better.

Krieva was more than the blazing orb that brought light in the passing of day. Krieva was more than the explosive force of Vulcan's fiery forge. Krieva was more than the surge of might and courage that flowed through the veins of Champions and Blood Seekers.

Krieva was, is and will always be Fire herself; her cries are mightier than any hand-made flame. The traitor would testify, had he the breath to speak.

The King's hold would soon diminish, his influence would pass along with his breath. Kings of Hoarfrost never wear crowns; what use is a crown in the biting cold of the North? No, his crown was his life and his inerrant authority was his scepter.

He would have no successors. He was like I was - last in the line of royalty, and yet it bothered him not nor did he bother me. This is why I have grown to admire him so much, even if his ways were vexatiously different from mine. While my ways are of burning, pillaging, warring and haste, his was of cold, infallible, overpowering calculation and strategy. Thus was the ways of Ice King; structured and latticed like the permafrost beneath his feet, and as unrelenting. Like fire in slow motion, he would overcome, conquer and consume, moving his troops in clockwork precision. His mind was a reflection of his rule; his icy machinations was matched only by his icy disposition.

Yet, despite his algid eyes and even more algid demeanor, his heart knows mine and I know his. For even the mightiest of glaciers melt in the face of the fiery sun, and the hottest of flames die out to the chill of winter.

This trespass today will not be forgiven, nor will it stand unpunished. Retribution would be served. May Krieva have mercy on the perpetrators of this revolt; may their blood boil faster than their lives would be extinguished. For only pain would provide them with company; reprieve has long since cowered behind my flames.

For my dear King now lies slain. He was the breeze that kept my flames in check.

Now my flames have none to stop them; now my flames can do nothing but burn and consume.

Long live the Fire Queen.