Chapter 1 - A Greiving Queen

Queen Regina of Griffindale sat in her room, staring out of the large window several floors above the ground. It was a luxurious and spacious room filled with all the extravagant things a woman in her early forties would want. As a Queen, she did not believe in modesty, considering it dishonest to live like that, so she got everything she wanted until she got tired of chasing after endless desires. She stared out of the window, admiring the star-filled night sky and the brilliant full moon.

The cool night breeze was refreshing, except for the fact that it nearly blew out the candles that illuminated her room. Besides the breeze, she enjoyed the sounds of the crickets in the nearby bushes and the howling of wolves in the wild forests just beyond the city's gates. The night was still young, and it was beautiful. However, it was not blissful enough to loosen the knot in her stomach permanently. She would never unwind, no matter how many pleasures she experienced. Although she was having a peaceful time at the moment, she was unhappy deep down.

She loved nature's bliss, but she hated life. She had a quiet time, but her head was filled with noise. Her overthinking mind was taking a downward spiral, and she was upset. A lot had happened in her life, both good and bad, and the memories of both were driving her insane. If she didn't get a great distraction from this torment soon enough, it would consume her. Although she was calm, she was bitter, angry, unfocused, and frustrated deep down.

Her hands, which were once hanging freely from the armrests of the seat, were now tightly clenched, and her breaths had become deeper, yet more frequent. Something was clearly upsetting her, but given the peaceful atmosphere around her, nothing seemed to warrant her sudden anger. Just as she was about to get up and yell into the distant skies, she heard a knock on the door behind her. The knocking pattern was unique, and she knew who it was immediately. It was her trusty servant, the well-known “hand of the queen,” the only man she could trust with her life despite his ugliness.

“Come in, Tarquin,” she said out loud without looking back, and slowly, the door opened from behind. In walked a middle-aged man, probably in his late thirties, and closed the door behind him after fully stepping inside. He wore a plain black cloak with a long-sleeved black robe that ran down to his feet underneath. He loved dressing as if he were always in mourning for somebody, it was what set him apart from the other servants and butlers working in the King's residence besides his looks.

“You rarely come to see me at night, as it is an odd hour,” she told him. “So I hope it is for something important.”

“Yes, it is, my Queen,” Tarquin replied. “In fact, it might be good news.”

“I'm listening,” Queen Regina said, standing up from her seat to face him properly. “This better be good, Tarquin.”

“Your husband, His Majesty, King Claudius Theodore, has just passed away,” revealed Tarquin. “It seems he gave in to the sickness after all.”

Queen Regina widened her eyes, unsure of how to react.

“When?” she asked, wondering how such sudden news could be true.

“It was less than twenty minutes ago when he was confirmed dead by the royal physicians, and I was tasked with informing you about it,” Tarquin explained.

“Impossible,” the Queen said, looking out through the window. It felt impossible since the kind of sickness he was experiencing was reported by the physicians as “a common fever,” one that would only have him bedridden for a few days but back to work after a week.

“It is true, my Queen,” Tarquin reassured her. “In fact, you can come with me right now to see his body. Though the specialists might have already started preparing his body for slight embalming.”

Queen Regina placed both hands on the base of the open window, thinking deeply about what she had just been told. About ten awkward seconds later, she looked back at Tarquin with a slight frown.

“Tell me, Tarquin,” she asked him. “How does this translate to good news? My husband has just died, and yet you are talking as if it's a good thing. What do you take me for?“”

Tarquin took a deep breath, knowing how the Queen reacts when she gets upset suddenly.

“Because you have always openly wished for the king to die, and now you have a chance to prevent that bastard son of his from becoming the King of Griffindale,” Tarquin replied.

“What?” The Queen asked, confused. “What does the bastard have to do with this?”

“Think about it, my Queen,” Tarquin explained. “Now that the king is dead, you can become the supreme ruler of the land and decide what to do with the bastard prince. You always said that you would rather die than let the bastard become king, right? Well, here is your chance.”

The queen sank back into her chair. The situation just felt too sudden for her to delve into joyful glee at what had happened.

Plus, the way her advisor was making it sound like "good news" felt unnerving to her. Her husband had just died—a man she once cared for, despite his emotional abuse towards her.

“Are you finished, Tarquin?” she asked in a suddenly furious tone.

“I didn't mean to upset you, my queen,” he said to her as he quickly got on his knees. “I spoke out of line. I'm so sorry, my Queen.”

She looked back at him and sighed deeply. Now that she thought about it, she had almost no reason to be angry.

Just by thinking of her married life with the late King, it was hard to find a reason to grieve for him. With that in mind, she couldn't be hard on her male servant like that. Deep down, beneath her love for the King, was a growing underlying hatred for him. One that was slowly surfacing in the course of this conversation.

“Get up,” she said before staring back out through the window. She could hear the sounds that suggested he had gotten back to standing, so she proceeded to say, “In fact, you may be right—that man may have deserved what came to him. For a man who was unfaithful and neglectful to his wife throughout his married life, sudden death is too merciful. I've endured so much misery because of my marriage to that scoundrel. He made me feel like an outsider in my own home. It is high time he got what he deserved. Wouldn't you agree?”

Hesitantly, Tarquin bowed.

“Yes, my Queen,” he said while suddenly taken aback by her quick transition from opposition to concurrence. He didn't want to upset her anymore, even though he agreed with her. “So nothing is standing between me and the throne now, is there?” the Queen asked.

“Yes, my Queen,” Tarquin replied. “According to the royal customs, you are the next logical choice. Going against that would be equal to breaking the law entirely.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked him. “I'm asking because you are well-versed in the kingdom's laws.”

“I assure you that you are going to be crowned Queen in only a few days, and nothing will stand against that.”

“Even though there will always be nobles who want to seize power with his opportunity, they cannot do so by preventing you from becoming queen. It is a rule almost as old as the kingdom itself,” Tarquin responded.

“I never looked forward to the day when I would become Crowned Queen,” Regina replied, a smile slowly forming on her face.

“But perhaps it is God's way of rewarding my years of suffering with great relief.”