Young Writers Society

"Daddy, why can't I make friends?" The little girl asked, looking up with bright violet eyes up at her father's own dark hazel ones. Her father sighed, closing the story book that had ended with the princess making several friends as a happy ending. Patting the girl's dark hair, he smiled weakly, not sure how to answer this.

"Well, you're kind of different. Your... your mother and I weren't expecting it. We were hoping it wouldn't happen."

Crestfallen, the girl hung her head. She pulled at the dark chocolate strands of her hair, glaring at them like they were the plague. Her naturally tanned skin was a stark contrast to her father's pale complexion; her eyes too bright in comparison to her father's dark brown ones. As for their hair... both of her parents had blond hair. They were naturally short people, and she was growing like a weed, even at the young age of five. Would the stark differences never end?

All of the children in her village--save Ralter, with his black hair and those dull green eyes--had pale hair and dark eyes. They were the odd ones out, and had become friends for it. "But why do you and momma have light hair, daddy? And your eyes are different..." she touched her hand to her father's forehead, sadly looking at those kind hazel eyes.

"When you're older, and I know I can trust you with the truth, I'll tell you. But... you can't say anything about it until I decide you're ready. Especially not to your... your mother."

"Okay," she whispered, sighing as she climbed off of his lap and into her bed. Pulling the drab quilt up to her chin and settling in, she wondered why her baby sister--her sibling with the blond hair and hazel eyes--got a pretty room with decorated quilts and curtains. Now that she thought of it, all of the other rooms were well-furnished but hers. At least she had a horse; she could hold that over her sister. "Daddy, do you think I can have a hairbrush? A pretty one, if it isn't too expensive?"

Her father smiled warmly--a hint of sadness pulling at his expression--giving her a kiss on the forehead before heading to the door, blowing out the candle. "I'll try, baby. I'll try."

Larana's eyes shot open as she grabbed her forehead, shouting. Sweat pouring down her body, she pulled damp strands of hair out of her face as she looked around the dark room. Tears came to her eyes when she realized that it had been just a dream. She had been so naïve... it had been as obvious as the sun in the sky. Her 'mother' hadn't been her actual mother, and her father had paid the price for it. After the clan took her...

She sobbed, remembering the letters he and Ralter had sent her. Then, her father's letters had stopped. Soon after, Ralter's had, too. One of the last things Ralter had wrote her was that they had found her real mother in the depths of the woods--alive--and had captured her because she wasn't quite... human. They had executed her father for cavorting with 'demons'. As for Ralter... hatred shook her body as the painful memory surfaced.

Before she had left, she had gone to their clubhouse in the woods. He had given her that meaningless brass ring that had meant the world to her at the time. He had told her he would wait for her to come back no matter how long it took. When she had finally returned, he was married with children, and hardly remembered her. Her first heartbreak, she supposed.

"My Lady," she heard her Reaper whisper from her doorway, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I had another nightmare is all," she sighed, laying back down heavily. Her Reaper frowned--she could feel it, even though the pale moonlight didn't provide enough illumination to show it--and walked over to her bedside.

Putting his hand on hers, he pressed her fingers to his cheek. She shivered when she felt his skin, so cold and dry. "Was it about your father, or Ralter?"

"Mostly my father. I remember when I asked him for a pretty hairbrush. I can't believe he took so many pains to get it for me, even though my 'mother' hated me."

"Would you like me to get it for you?" The Reaper asked, pressing his lips to her thumbnail. She thought of jerking her thumb and slicing his lip, but decided she liked the attention. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to love... why not accept some for now?

Shuddering at her own thoughts, she vowed to never let him go any farther. She was the master, and he was the servant. It stayed like that for a reason; besides, he treated her like a son would a mother. She was his paternal figure for some strange reason. She had often wondered if his mother had looked similar to her; he had never offered an answer, so she had never asked. "No."

Chuckling, he stood and walked over to her vanity, pulling a key from his left coat pocket and slipping the silver piece into a keyhole. Twisting the metal, a clicking sound was heard, and he opened it. Picking up the brush from an array of other equally pointless items, he walked back over to her and placed it in her hands.

"You never did like saying 'yes' to me, did you?" He smiled wryly, his voice slightly bitter. She blushed when she remembered when they weren't so master-servant, mother-son. When he had held her hand and asked her if she loved him. She had given him a similar answer as she had with his brush question. No. As solid and harsh as she could make it. She couldn't take the heartbreak again... not for the third time.

She rapped his nose with her knuckle, huffing in irritation. "No; nothing has changed since then."

"I'm just glad it was one of those nightmares, and not one about the late King." The Reaper sighed, leaning his head against the back of her hand once more. His breath tickled her pinky finger this time, making her fight the urge to jerk her hand away. "You always get so heartless when you think of the late King; it doesn't wear off for days. At least when you dream of family, you show emotion. Even though, such a display isn't as rare on you as it used to be, my Lady."

"Remember your place," she hissed, yanking her hand away before turning her back to him. He chuckled with amusement, taking the hem of the sheet and pulling it from her bare waist to her chin. He kissed her gently on the forehead, patting her hair before turning to leave.

She knew he couldn't see it, but tears rolled down her cheeks as she clutched the brush to her chest. Not so much for the memory of her father, but for the sake of breathing in her Reaper's scent. So sharp... like cinnamon. Her lips parted as her heart screamed for her to tell him to stay. She heard him hesitate, as if sensing her silent, almost-voiced plea.

"You really must learn to sleep with at least a nightshirt, my Lady. What would your advisers think if they found me comforting my Queen while she was hardly dressed?" He laughed; they both knew what was happening. He had sensed her urge to call him to her side, and had found a way to dispel it before she hurt herself again.

"Clam it," she grunted, closing her eyes to sleep, ignoring the intensified burning of tears and the wracking of sobs as they rose up her spine.

The Reaper sighed, blowing out the candle he had brought, closing her doors. "Until morning, my Lady. Unless you need me for anything else?" It was a test. Biting her lower lip, she steadied her breathing.

"No, Vynex. When have I ever said yes to you, after all?"

"Of course," the Reaper bowed a final time before leaving her to cry herself to sleep. Why? Why did this loneliness--that had never bothered her before--suddenly tear her to pieces?

As she felt a few kicks in her stomach, she allowed herself a final melancholy wail of misery into her pillow, wondering where she had gone wrong in her secure plan. She certainly hadn't counted on something so useless.

Who had ever heard of a Queen suffering from a lack of love, anyways? Preposterous.

*****

"Madam Viasra, what is the Queen's last name?" Evora asked the red-haired woman, frowning behind her small reading spectacles as she scanned over the contents of a large stack of extremely old papers. The Madam, surprised, looked up from her own report on the financial condition of the middle-class district closest to the palace. Setting her quill down on the table, Viasra ran her hands through her hair, taking out her loose bun before retying her hair in the same style.

"You work for her just the same as I do; why don't you go sift through that large mind of yours?"

"Well, see, I didn't join quite like you might have; I was recruited simply by the Queen saying her name was Larana and that she ruled the country I was in. That was a very long time ago, when she had first taken the throne. A few years before we had that bridge problem."

"Bridge problem... oh, right; Gladys and her slip-up. Mercy, how long has it been?"

Evora grimaced; even a woman who prefers trousers and a coat over dresses and jewelry found herself sensitive to her own age. "I don't want to think about it. Anyways, I told her she had to prove it, and she showed me her royal crest. She took me to the castle, gave me the funds and materials to do a test project, and when I succeeded, I became her personal inventor-slash-scientist. That was that; I never learned her last name."

"Well, it's--" Madam Viasra hesitated, leaning back in her chair to think. As she struggled to remember, she found that she, too, knew the Queen's first name. As for her last name, she couldn't recall. "You know what? I think she greeted me in a similar way. She said she was the Queen, and that she would be interviewing me. I asked her name, and she said 'Larana'. I don't think she ever gave me her last name. Akdel might know, though; let's go check."

Madam Viasra and Evora--the scientist had found herself unable to wiggle out of the situation, and needed an answer anyways--made their way to one of the many Meeting Halls where tables and comfortable chairs were set up for the advisers to work. Seeing Dr. Akdel, Viasra rushed over to his chair and leaned over his shoulder.

"Akdel, what's the Queen's last name?" She asked, shaking the chair for emphasis. Dr. Akdel, unknowingly mimicking both women's patterns, set his own quill down. He leaned back, thought about it, but came up empty.

"I... I honestly have no idea. I don't recall her giving it to me, to be quite frank." Dr. Akdel shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

Evora frowned as the events began to unfold; as she had begun sifting through the palace records--some of which she wasn't exactly supposed to be viewing, since they regarded the Queen's past--she had found that there were several last names. Wanting to find Larana's ancestors, she had hit a standstill when she realized that she did not, in fact, know her Queen's last name. "Because neither I nor the Madam were told the Queen's last name."

"That's a little queer, eh?" Akdel laughed, a nervous edge slicing into the sound. "Vyall, Theta, do you know it?" Akdel looked over to Theta and Vyall, who were both rubbing their temples as they tried to focus on their respective tasks.

Evora squinted suspiciously at the other two advisors; she hadn't noticed them. The Madam also glared at them with a certain amount of apprehension, and both women found themselves with similar thoughts of curiosity. These three--Akdel, Vyall, and Theta--did not usually get along when together all at once. Had they been conversing about something before they had entered?

Theta shook her head, shrugging idly--the Madam didn't trust her for a second--and Vyall only grunted. Neither wanted to admit that they hadn't the foggiest idea as of to their Queen's own last name. All advisers--and even the scientist--were rather embarrassed. "Well, maybe the Reaper knows." Evora shrugged, tuning to leave the room and get these offending, very-forbidden documents out of her hands. Theta snorted.

"Oh, the Reaper knows. Good luck wrenching it out of that little piece of... work. I'll say work. Because I'm a Lady."

"Hardly," Viasra mumbled; Theta glared at her, not even bothering to ask. Evora was more interested in the previously said words of Theta than the latter.

"You've asked?"

"Yes, but he didn't spill. I wanted to... um... sort of... look up her past, and the like." Theta blushed, realizing she was admitting to a form of treason to her fellow advisers; none of which whom could be trusted. Especially not Evora.

Theta rubbed her forehead in exasperation, and all found themselves amazed at how well the Queen had covered her tracks.

That woman... was making it impossible for Evora to look at her family line. First the red-herring documents, and now no one knew what her last name was. How long had she been planning this out? And what, exactly, was she planning?

Evora had a feeling she didn't want to know. Which is exactly why she went back to work trying to find out.

*****

"Theta, I'd like you to meet our sponsor." Lady Traditoryn said wearily as Theta entered the newest meeting place--an elegant hotel far too near to the palace for Theta's comfort--and lay her coat on the back of a velvet chair. Lady Traditoryn sounded as if she had been awake for several hours over what was deemed 'healthy'.

Glancing up, Theta's eyebrows shot up when she didn't see the woman dressed in black. Blast it; now she couldn't get a better look at the mysterious woman. She could have been the assassin that tried to kill either the Queen or the Queen's Reaper all those years ago. The reward for the Reaper in black was still out, after all. No use wasting some easy coin when it was available; sweet mercy, she was spying on her own Queen with Moving-picture Recorders. Hopefully Her Majesty wouldn't find out any time soon, but when she did... Well, it would be nice to have the extra coin.

"Lovely to meet you," Theta bowed slightly at the visitor, noticing that she had a squirmy feeling in her gut when her gaze raked across the figure leaning against the wall next to the fifth story window. The figure angled their head, smiling the brightest--and perhaps most crazed--grin Theta had seen for a long time. A shudder wracked her spine; this person wasn't to be trusted.

"Likewise, darling," the figure--a woman--purred, bowing low in a traditional manner with her dominant hand--in this case, her left--behind her back and her right hand's index and middle finger pressed to her forehead. Theta hadn't seen something like that in ages. By 'ages' she meant thousands of years; DLs lived an incredibly long time. "Nice to finally see you again."

"Again?" Theta choked, ashamed that fear wrenched her heart to a standstill. She scanned over her own memories frantically, not finding the abnormal woman anywhere in her mind. She would remember someone like that, wouldn't she? And yet, her aurora... it was certainly familiar.

The woman chuckled, pushing back her tattered green hood to reveal a tanned, slightly-freckled face and semi-dark brown hair cut jaggedly short at her shoulders. She wouldn't be considered a 'curvy' figure by any means, but still gave off a confident, arrogant, feminine air that made Theta feel as if she should obey. But why?

The woman tilted her head to the left, her eyes studying Theta for a reaction. Seeing none, she pulled out a notebook and quill, scratching something down. "Interesting... no reaction at all. Well, I supposed it has been a ridiculously long time, eh, darling? Far too long. I must express my apologies most sincerely; I've had so much work to do here of late." Finishing her notes, she put the notebook back into her coat pocket. Theta thought it strange she wore a hooded cloak, a long coat, and a long-sleeved shirt. Sure, it was raining and a bit chilly, but it was only Autumn. Nothing severe. Theta also found it queer that this woman dressed similarly to Evora, extra layers aside. It was rare to see a woman wear trousers and a shirt; no matter how many times Theta saw it, it still amazed her how that could possibly be comfortable.

"I don't believe we've met; you must be mistaken with someone el--" Theta tried, but the woman rushed forward, pinning her to the wall. Out of the corner of her eye, Theta saw Lady Traditoryn frown disapprovingly, but not say anything. The woman ran her fingers over the front of Theta's neck, her nails making white scratch marks across Theta's skin.

"Oh, no darling; I am quite certain we have met before. In fact, you could say I was your mother, even."

"My mother was a Demonic Luminex highly respected in the--"

"In the Moonlight Military. An Elite Grandmaster, to which title you have yet to live up to. You hope to learn the Queen's secret and expose her in some way to increase your chances of promotion. If there is any chance at all that Larana is inhuman, you could bring her 'home' and be quite the hero. I'm sure Lady Divyal's mother is very worried for her safety. After all, the Queen has an important roll to play in my game, see?" The woman's pale hazel eyes flashed as she suddenly slammed her hand against Theta's throat. At this point, Lady Traditoryn protested half-heartedly. The woman ignored her. "She can't die until she gives birth. And you can't die for a long time after that. I have it all planned out, you must understand; if it doesn't go exactly how I want it to, then the proper variables won't occur, and this experiment will have been a waste of my precious time!"

"How... You... I don't really understand," Theta gasped, trying to shove air into her lungs. This woman was making absolutely no sense at all, and was crushing her throat. Theta had never quite seen anyone so... violent. And unpredictable. Sure, the Queen had her days, but this was ridiculous.

The woman laughed--a cold, harsh sound similar to the Queen's in several ways--tossing her head back as she released Theta's throat. Waving her hand dismissively, the woman turned to leave the hotel room. "It doesn't matter. The more surprised you are, the better the factors will line up; it shall be a plethora of delicate details ready to be harvested like the delicious fruits they are. Good day, ladies. Enjoy your Earl Grey."

After the strange woman left, both remaining women stayed silent for several minutes, Theta rubbing her neck while Lady Traditoryn wrung her hands. Finally, Theta spoke, sure that the visitor was gone. "Who was that?"

"I haven't the foggiest." The Lady sighed, shoulders slumping. "But Marra said she was our sponsor before she left to get lunch. Here I thought Marra was our sponsor, her being the leader of our little trio and everything."

"I have never met that woman before in my life." Theta whispered, still startled by the anything-but-normal encounter. The Lady chuckled nervously, a scared sound that was in likeness to a frightened mouse.

"Neither have I; of course, she didn't know who I was."

"How did she know about my mother, and my aspirations, anyways?" Theta glanced at the table, seeing a pot of tea that had yet to be heated. There was no scent, so she had no idea what kind it was. Suddenly, it hit her. "Wait, what are we having? To drink, I mean."

Lady Traditoryn, taken off guard by the queer question, looked confused. "I don't know. Marra put it in there before I came. I like all teas, so it doesn't matter to m--"

"Did that woman come near the teapot?"

"No, why?"

The realization finally hit Lady Traditoryn as well. Both women walked slowly over to the teapot, opening the lid to see the ground up leaves and herbs of the yet-to-be-made tea. "You're a tea expert, right?" Theta asked.

"I would have to rub it between my finger to draw out the scent, to be honest. This dry stuff barely has a scent, especially not through the glass."

Both DL and human glanced warily at each other as Lady Traditoryn took a pinch of the leaves and rubbed it between her fingers. Sniffing, her eyes bulged out of her head.

"Earl Grey," she hissed, looking behind her as if expecting the strange woman to be standing over them from behind. "How did she smell that?"

Theta found herself panicking... such heightened senses... an observant, scientist-like aurora... the familiarity she had with Theta... who was this woman? And...

What was her game? What did she want with Larana?