"This was always going to happen. She's been dead since the beginning."
- Aeschylus
It is a child's dream to outwit fate, to somehow escape the great ending that awaits us all.
But Orianne Fernwood would burn the world if it meant a moment longer w...
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Like most children, Alec and Ianthe idolized their mother.
She was their confidant and storyteller, their healer and playmate. She was their most beloved friend and mother.
Had they been raised to worship the Seven, they might have seen her as the Mother incarnate, for she was pure love and warmth in their eyes. There was not a night she did not tuck them in, whispering stories and songs to help them sleep. Not a day passed that Orianne did not spend time with them, teaching or playing, raising her children to be good people.
Orianne Fernwood loved her children fiercely, and they loved her even more deeply for it.
Their mother was not like the rest of the North, cold and reserved. She was a wholly wondrous and enigmatic figure in their childish minds.
She was a streak of color in a world of gray, made of bronze, emerald, and inky black. Even in the coldest and darkest seasons, Orianne maintained her warm coloring and midnight-hued hair.
Ianthe and Alec could remember their mother's clothes; vibrant colors hardly found north of The Neck. Her usual style was deep jade and vivid pinks made of fine silks and brocades. When Orianne walked along the gray slate walls, it was like watching the flowers bloom in spring, a birth of color in an otherwise colorless world. The siblings used to follow their mother around, pudgy hands gripping her shimmering skirts, tiny legs trying to match her elegant strides.
On some nights, donning her most delicate gowns and jewels, Orianne would sing. Those were Alec and Ianthe's favorite nights when their mother could be coaxed into a tune or two. Sometimes she would sing ballads, long and enrapturing. Other nights would be folk songs that sent the room into a dancing frenzy.
But the one thing Alec and Ianthe loved more than their mother's songs were her stories.
When Emberhall's hearths grew dim in the evenings, Orianne would sit with her children in their room, spinning tales of romance and heroism. Her voice, rich and soft like honey, would whisk the twins into the most fantastic dreams with just a word.
Even as Alec and Ianthe aged, their memories fading into nothing, their mother would remain a bright vein, not so easily scrubbed away by the hands of time and senility. There would be no forgetting her warmth and love, burning hot like the sun.
That night Alec and Ianthe sat before their mother, huddled together on Alec's bed.
It was storming something fierce, the wind beating upon the walls of Emberhall while flurries of snow accumulated on doorways and windowsills.
Because of the cold, the hearth was lit up in the nursery, illuminating Orianne in rays of firelight. Her skin glowed golden, and the fire gave her black hair highlights of mahogany. Typically worn up, her curls had been let down to dry by the warmth of the fire.
Their mother looked like a vision, even in her night clothes. Her white shift was lovingly embroidered with orange blossoms by a hand they did not know, and her violet robe reminded Alec of Ianthe's eyes.
"And what story shall I tell tonight?" Orianne asked her children, meeting their wide and awed eyes.
The twins turned to each other, whispering conspiratorially in a voice their mother could not make out. Their whispering turned to argument, voices clashing with one another. Alec's face was calm, but Ianthe's cheeks began to turn a bright shade of red at the disagreement.
Orianne allowed her children to continue, ready to intervene should it go any farther. She had learned some years ago that the twins might argue like cats and dogs, but it did them both well to let it burn out. More often than not, they solved it among themselves. Her children loved each other too much to hold grudges. Though Ianthe did try her hardest.
Eventually, Alec turned away from his sister, his eyes wide, "Mama, we can't decide."
He said it as if it was the end of the world. Orianne lifted her hand over her mouth to stop from giggling.
At her brother's words, Ianthe rolled her eyes and spoke up, "Not true. I want to hear about The Rat Cook."
Alec balked at his sister's request. The two began to argue over one another again, their voices louder than before.
"How about I tell you a new story?"
That caught their attention, their argument forgotten at the prospect of a story they had never heard before.
"Is it a scary story, Mama?" Ianthe asked, her little girl always interested in the tales of monsters and battles more than Alec ever was.
The question brought a smile to Orianne's face, "Sometimes, my little star."
Ianthe's eyebrows furrowed, and Alec followed his sister's lead.
"It's a story about forbidden love, honor, glory, and everything you could ever dream of."
Both children smiled, a sight Orianne knew she would never tire of.
"What's it called, Mama?" Alec questioned his mother, leaning forward, the blanket slipping from his small shoulders.
This was kinda randomly written but I am actually super proud of it. Ianthe was a last minute addition but I now love her and she's gonna be super fun to write. Her and Alec won't be showing back up for a while so say goodbye for now. After this we're gonna get into the main story which will follow Orianne (MY QUEEN). She's a bad bitch if you couldn't tell
I don't know yet when the next chapter will be posted as I have no really planned this out to the extent I'd like. I would also like to get a little farther on my other story before I go full in with this one. Either way I am super excited about this and I hope you are too.
Special shoutout to the wonderfully talented elenaspetrovas for the cover. You're my queen Tessa!
