Morons and Monarchs

Chapter Forty-Eight: Jorogumo💀

I stare at Freyja's skull.

She was always beautiful. And even in death she could make men beg for attention. She was always prettier than the rest of us, we all had flaws. For me it was my horrid face, for Morana it was her temper, which showed in her eyes and casted her in a dark fire made by her own mind. For Eirene... well, Eirene had her legs, of which grew hair very fast. Faster than any of us, she had to constantly shave, Two, three, even four times a day sometimes. Freyja never had those problems.

Freyja had her curiosity, but so did we. It is an immortal flaw, not only Freja's. I wonder what she would say if she saw me today.

"Oh, why don't you just look horrish today. Stop your mopin' and help me with the latest maid so we can learn who is screwing who."

She was always like that. Always the one who was brutally honest yet sugary. She was the mom none of us ever had. She was the one that helped us prosper in dark times, she used to leave though, for weeks, sometimes even months. And in her absence, we grew restless. But we knew that when she came back, she would tell us tales unimaginable. She used to do that when she was a little kid. Tell us tales from another world. A world where people are held- not in equal power, but close enough-, a land where everybody died, and they all had short lives. To the point where they all knew that no matter what, living life to its fullest was the best course of action. Not that a lot of people did, but semantics.

A land divided by gender and race, yet all came together in the face of tragedy. I found her tales endearing. Morana used to make fun of her. To her, there was no such land, no such place.

But to us, it spoke on another level. It showed us how great we can truly be sometimes. How wonderful and peaceful our world may be if we all listened to one another. We could all imagine a world where there were these things people held in their hands, talked into, and for some reason, someone spoke back.

It started with a 'p' but I forgot the name of such a device. Long forgotten like the ash of our fallen friend. Scattered in our minds, broken and shattered with the remnants of tales well-told and acquired.

I always wondered what land she was speaking of.

When Freyja's horse came bounding into the castle, we all knew how she would look. Her cheeks rosy and muddy, her eyes lit up and sparkling, her hands covered in thorns, and her legs wrapped around in vines. She always sustained some sort of injury, but nothing she couldn't heal with a few or my remedies I cooked up for her.

I remember this one day that she came home, blood on her hands, a smirk on her face, and a bright green coat of blush marring her cheeks and forehead, even traveling down to her neck and if I remember correctly- to her toes. She looked intimidating. The blood on her hands, and the bit smeared on her lips, swiped on the edges. We took one look at her, and Eirene and I bound down the steps toward her. RUnning as fast as we can.

We grabbed both of her elbows and dragged her forward, she came willingly of course, that grin never leaving her face. Morana was glaring at her, and Eirene swatted at her shoulder. Us girls just got out of bed when the bell rang. We snuck into each other's rooms the night before and stayed up late, so we were still sleepy, but we jumped up, knowing that we had to disperse from Morana's room and into our own. So that nobody would catch us having a sleepover as we did. But then we saw Freyja and ran.

We asked her what happened, why she was bleeding, what was happening. She was very hot, as if she had a fever, and we were worried sick. Fussing over the person who usually did the fussing.

She told us that she kissed a boy...

Her first kiss. We gasped, and Morana turned as if she was going to call her mother, but Eirene commanded her not to. We usually didn't use our powers against each other, but if it was to keep another friend safe, sometimes we had to.

We asked her who the boy was, and her grin broadened. She spun around dramatically, waving her arms as if she was flying, letting her dress beckon around her and her hair billow.

She said it was a boy named Henry. And that he was mortal.

We were appalled then. An heir... kissing a mortal? Never heard of, and surely it would never be heard of. Until her.

We asked her questions like why she did it, and how, if it was good, if it was nice, if he was nice, if he was good and so on. We didn't stop until finally she set us down to have a little conversation. The servants brought us tea, and as we sipped it, she spilled it. All the juicy details we ought never forget.

The blood, we found out later, was the boy's. She bit him by accident, with her canine. She said he bit her lip playfully, so she tried to do the same to him and ended up biting him. He bled. A lot, she exclaimed. And then she grinned.

She told us that we needed to try human blood, the iron in it is like spicy food. She told us. The way it burns slightly but still tastes good. We told her she was insane, we laughed a bit, but only sarcastically. Warily.

We truly thought that she would go on a mass human-killing-spree and drink all their blood like Vampires from Odio.

Her curiosity was... well... it was the death of her. And it was that moment that we knew it would be.