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kelyon · 2 years

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Dark Mistress 5: Succession

The Dark One meets with the Duke of the Frontlands

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The soul of darkness flew through the night on wings of ebon magic. Below, the landscape was barely visible, lit only by a thin crescent of moon. Mountains and forests and fields of farmland were all engulfed in night. Occasionally the half-hidden light of a hearthfire flickered up from a lonely chimney or through a shuttered window, but those were few and far between. The stars above were distant and cold, never as bright as mortals thought they should be. Man’s world was cloaked in darkness, from the infinite heavens above, down to the blackness that waited for them every time they closed their eyes.

And she, the Dark One, was mistress of it all.

As she neared the castle, she observed the increase of lights. The hearthfires grew more frequent as the farms became less isolated. In villages, the inns and public houses kept lanterns burning so that travelers might find them. Fine homes had glass windows that let candlelight pour out onto the streets. The city outside the castle had watchmen who took torches into dark alleys to discover acts of evil.

The castle itself was so illuminated it practically glowed. On the outer walls, guards huddled around braziers to warm themselves from the autumn night. Torches burned in sconces by every doorway. It was all reflected back by the gleaming white paint that covered every wall. The Duke of the Frontlands wanted everyone to see his castle as a shining beacon of grandeur.

The Dark One was not impressed. Light was not as pure as people hoped. Mold was white, and so were dead men’s bones. Fire protected from the night, but it also destroyed and devoured. After an inferno, darkness could be a blessing.

She knew that better than most.

Without a sound, she landed on the roof. Having no use for a physical body at this moment, she let her consciousness unfurl like tendrils of smoke. Through a dozen different senses, she took in the castle. Soon, she understood the properties of the land this place was built on, the stones that made up its foundations. She seeped into the ancient timbers of the roofs and sampled their memories of being young trees, growing and full of life. Gradually, she took in the minds of the castle’s animals--the horses in the stables, the birds in the dovecote, the hunting dogs and pampered pets, the rats and the fleas and the worms in the dung heaps. All these presences formed a steady hum in her mind. Depending on her mood, the hum could be music or it could be a maddening cacophony.

None of it was what she needed right now. The land and the building and the animals were none of her concern, not this time. Humans had brought her to this place. And humans required more direct attention.

She gathered herself together enough to become a black miasma, blending in with the natural shadows. In this form, she drifted down from the roof, slowly oozing over the whitewashed walls. She poured over the windows like heated tar, spying all the goings-on within. The servants at work, the children asleep, nobles talking of business and frivolity in the same breath. Married couples argued, unmarried lovers snuck away for secret trysts. For them, darkness was a cover, but she saw it all. All their secrets, all their lies, all their hidden hopes and joys.

In a central chamber, the Duke of the Frontlands was holding an evening meeting. Instead of a public crowd, he was now attended only by courtiers and councilors and guards and servants. The Dark One passed through glass and stone to settle in the rafters over their heads. As she let herself form into her body again, she watched the man who had called on her for help.

The man who had no idea who he was dealing with.

He was seated at a small table, while all the others stood around him. The tabletop was scattered with parchment, but all his attention was dedicated to the gold plate in the center, where the cooked carcass of a chicken was halfway through being eaten.

The Duke ate with his hands, sucking meat off the small bones. He licked the grease from his fingers then extended his hand for his servant to clean him with a white linen napkin. Odd that it was only grease. Odd that even she couldn’t see the blood his hands were soaked in. But she knew it was there. All the waters in all the oceans of the world couldn’t clean his hands of it.

No one else in the room was eating. Nervous-looking clerks came forward with messages or reports. The Duke replied with one or two bored words, then sent them scurrying away.

At the Duke’s right hand, there was a young man, well dressed in a silk cape. Sometimes he would question the clerks before they were dismissed. His tone was polite, almost genteel as he spoke to his inferiors. He seemed to have almost as much authority as the Duke, without nearly as much arrogance.

Off to the side, a small crowd of women gathered together, seated on benches. Most took up embroidery and gossiped quietly amongst themselves. Only one paid any heed to the business of the duchy. Her worried eyes stayed fixed on the handsome young man.

When the last of the clerks had delivered their report, the Duke sat back and picked up a glass of wine to wash down his chicken. Barely bothering to incline his head, he spoke to the young man, but made his words loud enough for the whole room to hear.

“Is there any news on your matter, boy? Any new developments?”

From her hiding place in the ceiling, the Dark One felt plumes of shame burst up from two distinct points in the room below. The first was from the young man the Duke spoke to--surely his son and most likely his heir. The second silent shriek came from the crowd of women. From the girl who had been watching the heir all night, but who now had her eyes downcast.

“No, Your Grace,” the young man said to his father. “I was hoping that your appeal to--”

“Hasn’t been answered yet,” the Duke answered brusquely. He stood up from the table. “It was a fool’s errand and you know it. If a creature like that was of a mind to help people with their problems, why wouldn’t it have done it long ago?”

To answer his question, the Dark One giggled.

Everyone in the room heard the high-pitched sound as though it was right behind their shoulder. As though she was right behind their shoulder. They all turned to and fro, looking for the demonic source, all of them gasping and jabbering in fear.

In the midst of the hubbub, the Dark One crawled down the rafters and dropped down in front of the Duke.

“Why? Because the Dark One only comes to where she’s invited, dearie!”

At her words, the chamber fell silent. She paused a moment, arms outstretched, and let them take in the sight of her.

She was as human as she could look without making an effort. Sometimes she thought she could pass for normal, but in this crowd of mortals, she knew how short she fell. Even the palest human skin was not as white as hers, and that was ignoring the pearlescent sheen of her scales. In some circles, fashionable women would paint their nails with lacquer, but her claws were long and curved and black as a vulture’s talons. She had gowned herself in a dress that would be impossible for them--skin tight, and sparkling with a thousand shades of darkness.

Yes, she was a monster. She could see it on all of their faces.

The young man was the first to break the stillness. He stepped forward, and dropped to one knee, his head bowed.

“Mighty Dark One.” His voice was strong, though she could smell his fear as clearly as everyone else’s. “You honor us with your presence.”

“Honor?” She smiled wide, so they could see her fangs. “Oh, I think ‘horror’ is more truthful, don’t you, lordling?” She took a step into the crowd, and saw them all recoil. “Yes, I horrify you, as well I should. And yet you called me anyway. Why?”

At last, the Duke found his voice. He stepped forward, but did not kneel as his son had. “It is his wife, my daughter-in-law. She is barren, and I want grandchildren. If the matter can’t be fixed, we’ll have to set her aside.”

Through the haze of fear, an arrow of anger shot across the room. Obviously, the target was the Duke, but the Dark One found herself amused when she found the source.

It was the girl who had been looking at the Duke’s son, her husband. She wore an ivory dress, embroidered with five-pointed blue stars. The silk was loose and formless on her frame, it almost could have been a nightdress. Perhaps that was why the girl looked so much like a child.

Or perhaps the Dark One was just old. Surely she could have never been as young as this girl. Surely she had never been a high-born newlywed, sure of herself but unsure of anything else. Surely she was as ancient as ashes and always had been.

Without looking at the girl, she extended a claw and pointed to her. “Come here.”

Trembling, eyes lowered, the child left the crowd of ladies and went to her husband’s side. Like him, she showed her humility before the Dark One. She made a deep curtsy and did not rise from the ground.

“You ask for my help to get a child?” She addressed the question to all three of them, her tone conveying the absurdity of their endeavor. “Don’t you know that I am death? Why would you think I have anything to do with creating life?”

“The girl’s womb is cursed.” The Duke drank his wine. “That’s the only explanation. You must tell us how to lift the spell.”

“Must I?” The Dark One tilted her head and smiled at the Duke. Her smile, she knew, had more deadly points in it than the whole of this castle’s armory.

He straightened up, then gave her a brief, courtly bow. “We ask that you help her quicken, my lady.”

She shrugged and made to roll up her sleeves. “Well, I’ve never gotten a woman with child before, but I think I can give myself the equipment!”

“No!”

The lordling held up his hands in front of his wife as if to shield her from the Dark One’s perversions. It was a futile gesture, but a noble one. It made her pause. Something about this boy reminded her of her own husband. They had the same look, black hair and blue eyes. Gaston had had the same air of well-meaning stupidity, when confronted with an evil he had no hope of understanding.

“Oh!” she said with theatrical loudness. “Oh, I suppose you want her to bear your child! Yes, that is much more conventional. My mistake.”

“Please,” the girl spoke for the first time. “Please, Great One, will you help me?”

Taking care to touch her only with the pads of her fingertips, she took the girl’s face in both hands. She shuddered, but did not flinch. Brave girl. Desperate girl, to ask the Dark One for help.

She was pretty, in a mousy, dutiful sort of way. Her frizzy hair would be blonde if she spent a little time in the sun. Her skin was waxy and pale for the same reason. She was small and thin, though not too thin. The Dark One felt a trace of puppy fat under her fingers as she touched her cheeks. Twenty if she was a day, this child had never wanted for anything, and nothing much had been expected of her yet. Bearing children was the only serious accomplishment she would ever be asked to do--and the only task at which she had ever failed.

“I am not great,” she said softly. “But I am powerful, and occasionally wise, and you remind me of a girl who used to matter.”

The girl looked up at her. Her eyes were a washed-out green, pale as the first shoots of spring. There was so much hope in her gaze. If the Dark One had a heart, it would have been moved.

“How long have you been married?”

“They--” the Duke began to speak, but she stilled his tongue with a handful of magic.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” she screeched.

Her other hand was still on the girl. She was shaking, but she did not pull away. A tear leaked from her eye and rolled down her plump cheek. The Dark One caught the drop in the curve of her claw. Then she twisted her hands and presented the child with a diamond.

“A trinket for you, sweetling. If you are to be a mother in this world you must learn to make treasures out of all your fears and sorrows.”

The girl’s mouth opened. The Dark One dropped the diamond into her hands. Cradling the gem to her chest, she looked up. “Am I to be a mother, my lady?”

Again, she felt the girl’s hope, her need, her ecstasy at the thought of receiving her heart’s desire. She looked down at the Duke’s son, still kneeling.

“Does he hurt you? When you are in bed with him?”

The girl opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “He never means to, my lady. And never anything severe. But our coupling can be… awkward.”

“Does he pleasure you?”

The hesitation was shorter this time. “I know he intends to. He--he is a good man, a fine husband. But…” The girl clasped her hands together nervously. “It is difficult to speak of such things.”

“To me?” the Dark One asked. “Or to him?”

“To anyone!” Pink splotches erupted on the girl’s cheeks. The stink of her embarrassment overpowered her fear.

The Dark One stepped back, and put a finger to her lips. “I’ll ask again, how long have you been married?”

“It was a year at the beginning of the summer,” the girl said meekly.

Last year? While the war was still ongoing? The Duke had been able to afford a courtship, an engagement, and a wedding while his people had been fighting ogres? The Dark One felt a flicker of rage but didn’t allow it to consume her. Not yet.

It wasn’t the girl’s fault that she had been called to marry while boys and girls younger than her had been called to fight and die.

“A year and a season and you are still strangers, aren’t you? Your bodies have joined, but your hearts and your minds are not unified. Am I wrong?”

The boy and the girl exchanged glances. Both of them seemed hesitant to answer the question. Neither of them wanted to admit the truth.

“No,” the lordling said at last. “You are not wrong, Dark One.”

“This is what you must do.” Raising her hands, the Dark One addressed the entire chamber. “There is a well, outside the castle walls, that is full to brimming with the cleanest, sweetest water in any world.”

“I know that place,” the boy said. “I used to drink from that well when I was a boy. I could walk the path to it in my sleep.”

“Walk it now while you are awake,” she said. “Both of you. Together. Every day. Take no entourage, no servants, only a guard if you feel unsafe. As much as you can be, you must be alone, as nothing more than a husband and a wife.” She looked at them both, to make sure they heeded her words. “Walk the path together, hand in hand. Drink from the well together, sharing the same cup. It will be the work of less than an hour each day, but it will be a time that belongs to only the two of you.” She made a pointed glance at the girl’s flat abdomen. “Do this until it is the three of you.”

Eyes shining, the little bride rose to her feet. “Thank you!” She held out her hands awkwardly, as if she wanted to embrace the Dark One, but didn’t dare to. Instead she curtsied again. “Thank you so much, my lady!”

The boy stood as well, smiling and gazing at his wife. He seemed about to make a similar declaration of gratitude, but the Duke stopped him before he began.

“Is that all?”

The Dark One’s jaw clenched. She should have torn the bastard’s tongue out altogether, instead of temporarily paralyzing it.

“We come to you with a curse, and you tell these children to walk and drink water and spend time together?” The Duke stepped toward her, sneering. “Such advice could have been gotten from any hedge-witch!”

She glared at him. “Would you have listened to a hedge-witch? Or had you already spoken to one and she told you that there was no curse on the girl’s womb and that such things simply take time? Did she tell you that you are a greedy, impatient tyrant?”

There was a murmur from the crowd. The guards stationed at the door straightened up and gripped their halberds. The Dark One grinned.

Holding each other, the girl and her young husband slowly backed away from the Duke, who was still in a full bluster.

“I didn’t open my castle to a thing like you so that you could spout nonsense and insult me! The tales of the Dark One speak of tremendous power. Power enough to--”

“Stop a war?”

She spoke softly, but her words fairly echoed in the stunned silence of the audience chamber.

The Duke’s lower lip trembled as he looked at her. For the first time, there was fear in his eyes.

Good.

Then he gathered himself. “I--”

“Power enough,” she raised her voice, “to eliminate an infestation of ogres?”

Faster than any of the mortal eyes could see, the Dark One lunged toward the Duke. Her claws dug through the heavy velvet of his clothes and into the gelatinous skin around his throat. The body was weighty with muscle as well as fat, but she only needed one hand to lift him into the air.

Now the crowd gasped, a few of the ladies swooned. The guards tried to rush forward, but they suddenly found that their armor was ten times heavier than usual. Only the lordling moved into the Dark One’s presence. The girl came with him, clutching his hand in both of hers.

“Please!” the son cried. “Have mercy on him, I beg you!”

But she wasn’t done with the Duke. Gripping his throat, she peered into his eyes. “Do you think that I have more power than, say, a starving fourteen-year-old boy?”

The Duke clawed at her hands, but that only made her squeeze tighter. He made a weak, gurgling sound, and she felt a trickle of his blood on her fingers.

“Is it possible that I have the power of many children?” She shook him, and his limbs were slack as a rag doll. “Perhaps I have power to match a whole army made of the next generation of your people?”

He tried to hold up a hand, tried to placate her. But it was much too late for that.

“You are the Duke of the Frontlands!” she roared. “They are your subjects! They needed you! They looked to you to protect them! A lord is not supposed to be the thing that mothers tell their children to be afraid of!”

She tossed his worthless body against a wall. The man coughed and put his hand to his neck to staunch the bleeding.

“I am.” The Dark One rounded on him. “I kill. So children do not.”

The Duke staggered to his feet, one hand still upraised. “The ogres,” he rasped, then caught his breath. “We thought we could defeat them on our own.”

“How many men died before you reconsidered that notion? Mortal lives are so short. Why would you waste fifteen years on a losing war?”

He straightened up. “We did not lose every battle. And men have triumphed over ogres before. In the First Ogre War--”

“You idiot.” Her whisper was enough to silence him. “Do you think men are the reason the First Ogre War was won?” She addressed the crowd. “Is that what your fathers and grandfathers taught you?”

The Duke didn’t answer, he merely trembled where he stood, and that was answer enough.

These fools. She listened to the silence of the room and she knew it was true for all of them. Everyone in this castle, everyone in this kingdom, knew for a fact that ordinary soldiers were the reason for the victorious end of the First Ogres War. The Dark One felt her blood begin to boil.

She laughed. Long and deep and loud. She laughed until she felt wetness on her cheeks, and knew that she was weeping black tears.

“Well, that answers that mystery at least! Yes, of course! If it worked a hundred years ago, why not do the same now? Why not blanket every field in the kingdom with corpses? Why not, when you run out of men, begin to recruit boys, and then women, and then girls? Fourteen, wasn’t it? Fourteen years old, was the most recent age of conscription. Am I wrong?”

Jets of black fire burst out of her palms. She could do it. She could burn this castle to the ground. She could listen to the Duke’s screams as he burned alive. She could watch his fine clothes turn to cinders, watch his fat body roast like a stuck pig. She could watch his bones char black. She had done it all before.

She could kill everyone in this castle. Every lord who sent soldiers to fight an unwinnable war. Every wife who looked on, knowing that her sons and daughters would be spared. Every guard who tried to stop her from bringing about justice. Every servant who had made life better for these parasites. Every clerk, every scribe, every steward--she would see them all as ashes. Even the children who slept in their beds, their parents should know the same pain as every mother and father in this kingdom. She would burn them all. She would kill them all!

No, please!

The scream was so high and feminine and weak that the Dark One’s first thought was that it had come from the girl in the starry dress. But when she looked at the child, all she saw was mute horror, as she and her husband clung to each other.

No. No, she understood. No one in this room had cried out. In the face of the Dark One’s wrath, they were all too terrified to scream. Over the roar of her rage, none of them had even heard the shrill plea for mercy.

It had come from her own head, and it had stayed there.

Belle closed her eyes. Suddenly, her bloodlust had vanished. The fire was spent, and only smoke rose up from her hands. She was so tired.

The Duke had fallen back to the floor. Without another word, the Dark One did what she had come here to do. She went to the Duke of the Frontlands, and tore his throat open with her claws.

A river of blood poured onto her corpse-white scales, coating her to the wrists and seeping into her gown.

Crouching next to the Duke, she pushed back his oiled black hair and watched the life drain from his eyes.

“You deserve worse,” she whispered to him. She felt strangely calm, as she told him the truth. “Every man, woman and child who fought the ogres got a worse death than what is happening to you now. You would know that, if you had fought them yourself, instead of ordering others to fight for you. You coward.”

The man tried to speak, but when he opened his mouth a bubble of blood burst on his lips.

When she stood up, the Duke of the Frontlands collapsed to the ground like so much meat. Bloody hands at her sides, the Dark One addressed the new Duke.

“This war was not your fault,” she told him. “You were a child when it started. You were a child an hour ago. But now you are a man. And men know that circumstances do not have to be their fault in order to be their responsibility.”

The lordling swallowed. His face had gone pale and he looked liable to faint at any moment. His wife stood next to him, propping him up through his weakness, as any good partner should.

“You must know,” she went on, “that what that monster did, he did for you. For both of you, and for the children you would have, for the future and the legacy of this house. Peasant children died, so that noble children would live.” She looked the young man in the eyes. “You owe your people a tremendous debt. Do not shirk it.”

“No,” he whispered. “I will not shirk it. I swear to you, Dark One, I will not forget the lesson you have taught me this night.”

“Good.”

She didn’t not smile. She did not weep. Darkness covered her heart, and she could feel nothing.

Squaring her shoulders, she glided away from the courtiers and toward a window. With a tired wave of her hand, all the glass panes shattered and fell to the ground. Then the Dark One climbed onto the ledge of the empty window, and flew off into the night.

****

She didn’t stop until she reached the ruin, her palace of ashes. In an abandoned corner of blackened stone, Belle let herself collapse. She allowed her evil soul to spread out and cover this place that had once been her home. Her mind sank into the ground. Nothing lived there. Nothing grew, and all was quiet. Her poison--her destruction, her death--flowed out from her into the rocks and rubble, where it could hurt no one.

As long as she was here, it was safe. As long as she was here, she couldn’t hurt anyone. And knowing that she couldn’t cause pain was the easiest way to keep herself from wanting to cause pain. Everyone was safe from her.

She sank into the sweet darkness of oblivion. One by one, her dozens of senses faded away, until only two remained: The one to hear if her name was called by a desperate soul, and the one to watch the crescent moon wane into nothing.

When the moon was new she would wake again, and go to the only person she could hurt without killing. Like this place, he was a safe vessel for her evil. And unlike this place, he had chosen his fate, he accepted it. It was the price he had paid for her magic.

She could only hope what she had given him was worth it.

#dark mistress #ouat #rumbelle #dark one belle

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