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Crown Princess and heir apparent.
Interesting.
The subject in this portrait was a very young girl. She was wearing a gauzy white dress with flowers in her dark hair. A beautiful pink sash at her waist. Her striking green eyes stared back at you. A memory flickered in the back of my mind. Like it was trying to tell me something. Like it wanted me to know.
My breath hitched, my throat constricting.
That was me, painted in the portrait. Only, I was five when it had been done. Mother had wanted my hair left loose and a diadem set atop, but I remembered throwing a fit over flowers in my hair. Flowers I had woven into a crown with Ruthie- mother’s ladies’ maid.
I desperately wanted them, I had fought her hard. Throwing a tantrum until I got what I wanted. She was beside herself at the end of it and had given in. It wasn't long after it was finished and hung that everything changed. I was a year older at that point.
My eyes scanned the room again. At all the paintings that hung, the space was familiar but foreign. I should not know this room, I had never been here before. The portraits all stared back at me, crushing me with their heavy gazes. I’d been here before, I’d seen this space. But it was occupied by a couple dancing.
“I don’t understand.”
The large frame at the end captured my attention. Another portrait. This time it was of a gentleman and lady. The woman was seated in a red velvet covered chair, he was positioned slightly behind her, hand resting on her right shoulder. They were both beautiful. Stunning even. While she had bright blonde hair and blue eyes, he had dark brown hair and green eyes. The Name plague was worn, but I could just make out the etching:
Below the King’s name was hers:
Elias Marcelle and Irene Linnea Darthordian. But it was her face in the painting. I knew her face from somewhere. She was the one in the garden, the labyrinth of hedges and trees. A babe in her arms. Her laugh echoed as she called a name. Her white cotton dress stark against the green leaves and tan color of the cobblestones. Her blue eyes were full of life, love, and wonder. Her smile was warm and inviting. The smell of fresh lavender and vanilla assaulted my senses. A familiar smell. Tears welled up in my eyes. My breath came in huge gasps.
The memory washed over me, as if it were my own.
Agirl in a green linen dress had a stain on the front, a bear clutched to her chest, as she ran into the room.A streak of tears staining her cheeks. The woman on the stone floor before her lay lifeless, her blonde hair stained red with blood. Her gown no longer white, stained from the wound in her chest. Her once beautiful blue eyes, dead and lifeless, glazed over. The pool of blood was growing ever larger.
A small voice echoed “Momma?”
The girl reached for the hand that lay to the side, the delicate fingers of the woman curled to clutch a necklace. The locket opened, a portrait of the girl and a babe cuddled together and a man resembling the king inside.
She reached out, shaking her mother’s arm. Tears and snot dripping from her nose. “Momma.” she cried again. “Momma!”
“Astraea? Astraea, we have to go.” A voice said behind her, breathless. As if he had run a great distance. Turning her head, a faun stood in the doorway, blade in his hand. Pacing inside, hand outstretched. “We don’t have much time. Please.”
The vision faded to black as the girl clutched the faun’s hand. But before I could gather myself, another replaced it. The faun she had followed, her hand once clutched tightly in his, wielded the blade as he fought the intruders. His voice echoing in my head as he yelled.
“RUN ASTRAEA!”
She did not hesitate. Running in the opposite direction, the direction they were headed was blocked by men in armor black as night. Turn after turn, long corridor after long corridor. She knew where she was going. She had run these halls numerous times. The wood door in front of her at the end of the hall, the one she was after, made her cry.
“Papa!”
Her little legs carried her as fast as she could, “Papa!”
Bursting through the door, the man on the throne leaped up. His sword falling, her tears flowing as he caught her in his arms.
The vision faded again. The portrait coming back into view. The man, the woman. King and Queen. My Mother. My Father. The room spun, my head becoming light as the realization hit. I remembered then. I remembered them. I remembered all of it. Everything. The well opening and overflowing with the memories of my life with them.
The life I had lost, the lives they sacrificed, the chance they gave for me. Spinning around I caught a glimpse of a door at the far end. A door I hoped would take me away from here. Hefting my skirt I marched toward it. The eyes of those in the paintings behind me, watching as I left.
I yanked the door open, and a cloud of dust and ash billowed out. As I stepped into the hallway, my foot caught on something, and I stumbled to the edge of a massive crater in the floor. The hallway had been torn in half, leaving a jagged opening that led to the outside world. The walls were scorched and blackened, and I could see the sky through the gaps in the stone. Turrets and towering stone structures loomed over me, casting long shadows across the ruined hallway. I realized with a jolt that I was standing in a castle, one that had been attacked and destroyed.
My heart raced as I remembered my dreams, the ones that had led me here. This was the castle that the sprite had spoken of, but as I looked around at the devastation, at the destruction that had happened to it. Carefully, I stepped over the missing section of the floor and made my way to the opposite wall, which was half-destroyed, with jagged rocks and broken beams strewn across the ground. It was as if something had exploded from within, tearing the wall apart in a massive blast.
Something large had done the damage.
As I peered down at the desolate wasteland below, memories flooded back of the once-thriving city. Nona had called the Goblin City. But I knew the truth - this was the home of the people of Inirea, my father's kingdom that he had governed and cared for. As a child, I had seen them waving at me from my father's side, but now they were all gone.
Buildings of all sizes lay in ruins, either destroyed by explosions or reduced to charred rubble. The devastation was overwhelming, and it was clear that the attack had started at the heart of the city. I felt a deep sense of sadness and anger as I gazed upon the destruction. Innocent people and their lives had been destroyed. The city was silent, utterly still. Walking closer to the edge of the broken wall, I searched for any sign of life, hoping to see someone, anyone. But the city was empty, as if all of its inhabitants had vanished into thin air. The only sounds were the howling wind and the creaking of the ruined buildings.
