Amelia

[This is an excerpt from a character chapter from my work in progress (novel). I tried to make it not too long and hopefully you'll find it easily understandable. Don't worry too much about the places, their position in this part assumes you have some prior knowledge of them. Oh, and there are twelve gods in their religion, so any reference to twelve is a reference to that.]

The Queen Daughter grabbed the chalice filled with a bitter port and took a large swig. She was only sixteen, but as the Queen Daughter, none dared challenge her over what she should and should not drink, except for the Queen Mother of course. She was here too, the Queen Mother, but she paid little attention to the scrawny figure that occupied the seat next to her. So Amelia sat and drank. It was a terrible red wine from some far off province, surely not the sweet nectar of Terrantos, her home province. Queen Mother Frances did not want anything around that would remind her of the Queen Daughter, her wine included.

Frances’ paranoia was the root of the Queen Daughter’s misery. Amelia clenched her jaw. It wasn't as if she was going to kill the Queen Mother. There had only been one instance of that in all of Trydian history.

Amelia looked around the table at the company gathered to the enormous feast. They were all politicians: members of the High Council, representatives of the Twelve Provinces, or some other small nobles waiting to cut their slice off the roast of power. Frances enjoyed showing off at these elaborate ceremonies almost as much as she enjoyed having power over those who attended. Amelia peeked at the Queen Mother’s ugly face. She was very old and very wrinkled and Amelia wished a gust of wind would turn her to dust and blow her away.

The sycophants abounded now that the feast had truly begun. Tonight was just a small gala with an attendance of only three hundred. The feast, though, would likely feed many times that, Amelia knew. The Queen Mother spoiled much food during these feasts, food that could go to those who needed it. Just last week there had been food riots, and the Queen Mother had done nothing about it. She had simply arrested a few of the agitators and threatened the rest. She truly has no compassion.

The courses were brought out one by one to be tasted, a twelve-course meal for the Twelve. The meal from Terrantos was a meager barley soup, surely an offense to her and her goddess Filith, but none of the guests seemed to notice.

The Queen Mother laughed at a small joke one of the guests made. A courtesy, no doubt. She had gotten no joy out of hearing the jest; she had no time for joy. And all the while Amelia would smile and nod and acknowledge the important people Frances had brought into the temple for her great feast.

A dignitary leaned over her at the table, “My dear, you’ve barely touched your food.”

“Do not worry yourself, emissary, I am simply not hungry. All this feasting has had the opposite effect on my stomach I fear.”

“I see, Lady Amelia. I admit that my appetite isn’t quite what it used to be,” he rubbed his belly, “but for different reasons I would reason.”

“What reasons might those be?”

“My dear lady, have you not heard? I have come down with the sickness. Why, I don’t know if I shall live for another year. It is very sad, yes, but I wish you not to tell anyone. I know nothing of it, and you know nothing of it; I would like that to be the way of things. We know nothing. Understand?”

“Surely, but that is such a sad fate, my dear emissary--”

“Farill, please, my lady, I would like you to call me Farill, which also happens to be my name. And there is no need to feel pity for a dying old man. Let us see…” Farill rubbed his chin which may have been shaved a few days before but not since.

“I come from the province of Anh Te as the official representative to Anziatu. I serve Gildar, my dear lady, god of wisdom.”

“Gildar is wise, indeed,” Amelia recited to Farill, showing the accorded respect to a follower of another god.

“Filith is generous, indeed,” Farill repeated with a smirk.

Amelia noticed the Queen Mother glancing over at the unexpected attention she was receiving. She was used to sitting and watching while everyone else carried on with the Queen Mother. Even the attention of an old emissary had heightened the Queen Mother’s suspicion and jealousy.

“It has been a great pleasure to meet you Farill; I rarely have such refreshing company. And I do hope that you have the will to beat the sickness. Many before you have done it, it is not an impossibility.”

“You are sweet, Amelia, but I am not the one that needs your pity. I must admit that in my old age, I often get confused. It is indeed a friend of mine that has the sickness.” Farill looked over at the Queen Mother and gave her a long, angry stare.

Amelia gasped in her throat. “Surely you can’t mean--”

“Mean what, my dear? We know nothing, remember?”

“We know nothing…” She watched the old man hobble over to the Queen Mother’s chair.

She seemed too busy to notice him for some time, but Amelia knew the Queen Mother made her guests wait before they could speak to her. Farill waited patiently taking in the hall’s tapestries . He had obviously been through the tedious routine before. The Queen Mother finally turned to him and addressed him.

“Greetings Emissary Tomlin. Here, sit. Take this fork and share my meals.”

Farill sat down next to the Queen Mother. “Call me Farill, please, Queen Mother.”

“Farill, then. How are the Triplets this time of year?”

“Anh Te is doing well. As for Anh De and Anh Me, I am unsure. Likely the same. However, Anziatu is quite beautiful. I have visited the Gardens of Amery and they are quite unlike any I have ever seen.”

“You flatter me, Farill,” the Queen Mother offered emptily. “Even if the words come from an old man.”

“Your words flatter me, even if they come from an old woman.” Farill brought a piece of lettuce to his mouth and crunched down on it.

There were a few nervous chuckles, but mostly those around the Queen Mother stared at her, anxious for a reply. She carried out the silence before she decided to play the game. “I am glad you think so, Farill Tomlin. Let me ask you a question.”

“Yes, anything, Queen Mother.”

“Excellent. You see as one in my position, there are often times I feel the need to continue the security of this sovereignty. There are things that threaten to destroy us, emissary, and sometimes these things take the form of people. There have been many instances of conspirators attempting to bring down Trydia by taking my life, but none have succeeded. Sometimes all we find is the occasional spy. But in both cases, there is almost reliably always a dignitary behind each of these contemptible acts.”

“What exactly are you implying, your Grace?” Farill said as he twirled his lettuce-laden fork around in the air.

“Are you a spy, Farill? Or perhaps an assassin?” All eyes moved to Farill, rage barely contorting the corners of his mouth.

“Are you a fool, my dear Queen Mother?” There were several vehement whispers followed by a collective shushing. “Or perhaps a fiend?”

The Queen Mother’s face flashed rage as well, but it vanished as soon as it had appeared. She replaced it with an icy glare. “Will your god Gildar protect you once I decide to cut out your tongue, or will he hide behind a wall like he is prone to do?”

Amelia froze in place along with many of the guests and Farill Tomlin. It was obvious he was trying not to show any emotion, but an open offense to a god was something not tolerated of anyone, even the Queen Mother. A pair of guards stepped up behind the two, trying to look intimidating enough to prevent any swift action.

“Guards, I believe you just heard the Queen Mother offend my god. That is an unforgivable crime, even in Anziatu. I demand that she be placed under arrest.”

“Arrest, Emissary Tomlin? Hah! I think not. You all saw the way he waved that weapon at me. He threatened my life! He told me he would kill me and that he would steal the throne for himself if I didn’t say those words. Guards, take this traitor away!” The men behind her grabbed Farill Tomlin and dragged him over the chair the Queen Mother had earlier offered.

“I waved but a fork, Queen Mother,” Farill growled, “and never once threatened you. You insult my god, and now you put me under arrest. You will pay dearly, Frances. Your time will come, and soon enough!” The guards escorted Farill to the door. He went freely, without struggle.

“You see!” Frances shouted. “He threatened me again! He will see justice. Now enjoy the food, everyone. A traitor shall burn on the morn.”

The guests sat forlornly, not sure what to do next. “Eat,” commanded the Queen Mother calmly. “Eat!”

They ate.

As the Queen Mother sat down, she knocked over Amelia’s chalice, pouring it onto the Queen Daughter’s lap. Amelia’s white dress did little to hide the red wine.

“Queen Mother!” she yelped.

“Silence Amelia!” Frances snapped back.

Amelia stood. She could take no more. The Queen Mother had teased and mocked her all her life. She had made sure that Amelia had always looked a fool. She had made her dress in idiotic-looking outfits when she was young and later she made sure the dressmakers made all her clothes odd-fitting and bulky. She had cut her hair so short that there was next to none on her head. She had called her horrible names like “street rat” and “flea” because she had not come from a noble family. The Queen Mother had made her life miserable. And when finally Amelia had found a companion to speak with, the Queen Mother had taken him away. She even said she was going to burn him.

And so Amelia stood. She had finally had enough of tolerating the Queen Mother. She would not let her keep her down any longer. “No more Frances!” she told the Queen Mother.

“What did you call me?” the Queen Mother yelled. The guests once again looked back at the table that held the Queen Mother, on edge from what they had seen before.

“Don’t mind this insolent pup, my dear friends,” the Queen Mother tried to apologize. She gave the Queen Daughter an evil grin. “It seems it is her moontime.”

Amelia looked down at the red wine in horror. Then the Queen Mother let out a repulsive cackle. The guests laughed as well, whether or not it was to please the Queen Mother, it did not matter.

“They say the moon of Alysse is one of the bloodiest!” the Queen Mother continued, anxiously looking for more laughs. “My dear Amelia, how did you get your moonblood all the way up the dress like that?!”

She cackled fiendishly again and Amelia couldn’t stand looking at the hideous face. The others still laughed at her, but she barely heard them. She concentrated her hatred toward the Queen Mother, but forced herself to settle. If she wasn’t careful, she would hurt someone with her anger, or get hurt herself.

She ran down the long dining hall, desperately trying not to cry, to be strong. She would not allow the Queen Mother to win, to get the best of her yet again.

She ran out the large doors, already plotting her revenge. Perhaps the Queen Mother had created her own demise. Perhaps Amelia would truly be the second to kill the Queen Mother before her.

Finally, Amelia ran from herself. She knew she could not bring herself to kill, but she could do something. Being the Queen Daughter suddenly seemed much less important.