Cowering in the corners of the Solar Room, under the dim lighting of single candle remained what was left of the Royal family of the kingdom of Lotherine. King Atlas was most afraid, cornering himself in the room hunched over and sobbing hysterically, ordering everyone to circle and protect him from the violent mob outside, clutching his meaningless crown to his chest. The Duke and Duchess Ricin stood in front with their claymores ready, brother and sister ready to defend what remained left of his legacy. Queen Vesta stood beside her husband but only cared for her children by her side. The last descendants of the Royal Family Martis, Princesses Selene, Princess Aurelia, and heir to the throne, Prince Talos III. Though tears fell down her face she remained standing and did not whimper, though the thoughts of regrets and despair swept through her mind of every reason why she was a felonious Queen and how she wished she could turn back time.
“I’m not meant to be here” she whispered “This was never meant to happen to us”
She married Prince Atlas on the evening of her 15th birthday at the Illuminate Castle, thus securing the alliance between the regions of the Wealthy Mountains, and the Highland Vale for the greater good. Lady Vesta gleamed like the jewels forged in her mountain; she was the eligible diamond of her house and would soon be claimed by the royal family. She remained optimistic and positive, despite never meeting him before. No matter how bad he would be she would be the Queen, she thought, and that is something every girl wanted. She smiled to herself, but that smile died as she heard the heavy footsteps of Prince Atlas coming towards her, her veil was lifted and she looked upon her future husband.
He was tall; he was strong, gleaming in gold robes and elegant garments with a claymore at his side, “A born leader” she had been told “one never to cower from danger and to stand his ground no matter what”. He didn’t smile, only looked her up and down with attentive cold eyes. His snake hand shot out to hers and gripped her wrist tightly lifting it up forcefully to his face, her detailed mehndi patterns on her arms crumbled under his grasp. Vesta jumped at this sudden contact and closed her eyes tightly. A relief soothed over her mind as she felt his lips in contact with the back of her hand, and she knew she was now his wife.
Their reign was blessed to be long and powerful. The lower class of the Highland Villages celebrated the idea of a new wealthy Kingdom, where no one would be poor, and the new King and Queen would shower down on them fortune and prosperity for a brighter future. A future they were promised from King Atlas’s father, King Stelios II, and his wife, Queen Andromache. However with the new young King and Queen seated on the thrones of Highland Castle, the excitement and ecstasy of wealth, power and rule was all they could think of. With all the gems from the Wealthy Mountains swimming into their grasps, and the ability to command every man woman and child at their fingertips, the idea of being King and Queen was to bring alive their fantasies and pleasures. Parties took place at any celebration they chose, from a succession on a good year of harvest to the birth of the heir of Lotherine. The nobles favoured this lifestyle of constant invitations to the King and Queen’s palace, and endless surge of luxury wealth, food and entertainment and with all the jewels from the Wealthy Mountains, and the heavy taxing on the common people. Their festivities were endless and great. “They steal the bread from Lotherine’s children!” the common people cried, but Vesta and Atlas laughed at their shrieks “What uncivilised manners they have” they jested.
The Veneer Citadel, the underground prison housed the criminals and delinquents of the kingdom. A cell so deep it would never see the light, an airless suffocating existence, to her majesty Queen Vesta Ignis Martis of Lotherine, this was now her home. Her wrists were torn from the tighten chains hoisting her arms up against the wall. Her lavished garments torn off her body, leaving her in her cold vulnerable undergarments.
Their ruthless spending of the wealth of the realm caused the common people to rise up and take back what they thought was theirs. It didn’t matter what she thought of them anymore, they had won, and they had taken everything of hers to her last jewel, and last child. King Atlas had been taken to the guillotine with no hesitation, but not before several peasants had thrown him naked into a pile of blood soaked diamonds, the blood from all the executed nobles of the Kingdom. “You drench our blood for your wealth!” they screamed “And we throw you into the blood of your friends!” He cried pitifully through every minute of it. Her loyal friends the Duke and Duchess of Ricin were hung from the Highland Castle walls, their bodies dangling beside the pike on which her husband’s head was mounted. Princess Selene had been handed over like livestock to the common leader of the common people as a wife, thankfully little Aurelia had escaped, and she had been lost for weeks now. But the worse loss was that of the innocent Prince Talos, executed by axe to end the line of Martis. His blood soaked the jewels on which she had loved more than him. Lastly she was sentenced to the deepest cell of The Veneer Citadel, with no water or food for the rest of her days. A symbol they called it, to feel as she had made her subjects feel.
She muttered half-forgotten prayers like grotesque obscenities “I’m not meant to be here” she whispered into the darkness “This was never meant to happen to us”