Lies and Luster
a/n: very much a vague drabble.
w.c.: 1k
Once upon a time, when all was young, verdant, and puddle-wonderful, you lived care-free and alone at the edge of the known world.
It was a solitary existence, but one you minded not.
For there was always something that needed doing— empires rising in the east and falling in the west, pilgrims desert-blown and woebegone desperately searching for you—
And then there was the business of striking fear into the hearts of men.
_
There were tales as old as time, ones that spoke of an Endless One.
She had once been a benevolent and kind queen, beloved by her people and enchanting to those from far-flung lands.
Starlight sung in her veins, and from this came her renown.
Her people never knew of want, for her hand provided plenty. Nor did they know of war, for her wise rule provided peace.
Legend goes, one day she took a lover (or maybe, he took her).
A charming man, whose dazzling smile and kind countenance were merely a lacquered veneer that showed the queen and her people what they wanted to see:
A bridegroom, at long last.
_
The Starlight Queen was so taken with her consort, that she failed to notice the cracks in the foundation of her kingdom.
Sickness in winter, floods in the spring, a paltry harvest in summer, and a blight in autumn.
The people cried for her guidance at the palace gates, begged for a glimpse of her face, only to be turned away with a brusque shadowy hand.
For the consort’s gift, was one of an absence of light.
_
Her people, her empire suffered while the consort emptied the crown’s coffers.
The cries at the gates fell by the wayside as people abandoned their homes, mournfully turned their back on this land in search of better things.
The once resplendent glow of the palace, the stars twinkling in the inky sky above, faded with each passing day until only a dull glow remained.
Unbeknownst to the people who claimed to love her, their queen sat shackled to her throne.
Forbidden visitors, save for her consort.
Always alone.
_
While her lover schemed and brought her empire to ruin, the queen bided her time.
She was a clever thing, knew that by playing the long game, she could outwit the man she had demeaned herself into loving.
Her heart, once open and tender, hardened with each passing hour of her solitude.
And by the time her lover was looking onto brighter pastures, it was too late for him.
The chains lay in ruins at the base of the throne, and bloody footprints decorated the worn stone floors leading to the consort’s bedchamber.
They say a servant found her seated placidly on his bed, and she greeted him calmly, all things considered.
It was only when she turned with a smile that the breakfast platter fell to the floor. She tongued her canine briefly, the pink muscle working its way across her white teeth.
Her chin dripping in blood.
_
There were other tales, of course.
Those that spoke of her granting favors on brave pilgrims— blessings of fertility or wealth.
But there were more insidious ones, that claimed she was no better than a wild animal— only worthy of being chained and controlled.
A weapon to behold.
_
On a small farm, far from the Wasteland, a young boy grew into a man.
He had heard the tales of the Starlight Queen, the Endless One and her kingdom of waste and ruin.
He listened to those stories all his life, harboring a secret of his own.
And when he came of age, he left the farm to go on a pilgrimage borne of loneliness and desperation.
He packed his bag and said goodbye to his uncle, making vague promises to return.
The older man advised his nephew to wait until sunrise, better to travel in the day than risk running into trouble at night.
The young man merely smiled with a shake of his head, the dark had never bothered him anyway.
_
East of the farm, on a well-sized estate, a young man found himself at his wit’s end.
His father ranted and raved about responsibility and his duty to his family, to his people.
But it fell on deaf ears.
For his son had already made up his mind.
His bag stowed in the bough of the ash tree on the edge of the estate, his horse at the ready.
His mother simply remained in her room, though her wailing could be heard throughout the manor.
”If you do this, you’re no son of mine!”
The deep resounding bellow from his father echoed in the room.
His son sighed, knowing it was useless to argue with the man, and quickly turned on his heel to leave.
The day was young, not a cloud in sight, as he strode across the fields one last time.
He would ride as long as he could and rest a few hours in the night.
For there are worse things than a mere absence of light.
_
In your kingdom of ruin, a Wasteland by the sea, you slumped upon the throne.
Chains, long rusted and crumbling away, lay in a heap on the floor.
It was a rare thing, for you to be awake and dithering the day away.
That was the thing about being feared and revered, it allowed for far too much time.
If the remnants of your kingdom weren’t turning people away, then it was you at the gates.
Greeting the pilgrims as they fell to their knees in supplication. Frightening the blustering men who believed themselves to be mighty hunters.
As if you were a prize to be won.
But on this day, there were no pilgrims or hunters, just a simple knock on the grand door that gave way easily under a hand.
Leaving the throne room, you spirited yourself away, feet light on the dusty stones of the floor.
By the time the traveler had passed the threshold, you were long gone with a smile on your face.
”Hello?”
The palace shuddered at the sound, and your sigh falls upon not one, but two pairs of ears.
The door behind the travelers slams shut.
_
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