Winter
The air was cool and refreshing, frigid and chilling to the bone. The swish of fabric and the gentle click of heels against lacquered floor echoed in her head. The chill of it made her feel the rush of blood in her veins as her body worked to warm her chilled flesh. Empty smiles and empty commendations washed over her like the warm undulations of simulated ocean waves. With every breath of wasted thanks, the tang of alpine air burned her nostrils with the pungent, spicy scent of Pine and filled her head with images of thick leafy forests covered in chilly sugar.
She would like to be there, trying to ignore the scaly flesh of a leering old man against her hand, listening instead to the crunch of snow beneath her feet and feeling the real chill mountain air. She imagines the scent of burning wood and the feeling of burning warmth of a fire against her skin in place of the hand that rested on her shoulder and the cigarette smoke that some important man blew in her direction, wearing something that may have been a sultry smile. She only saw the yellowed stains on his lips and the redness of Nebula infection that was slowly overtaking his eyes. A smile formed on her face though, cool, regal and detached. Something to tease and prompt, and pull another mind under her influence, another source of unreturned favors.
She would not make the same mistakes as last time.
SPRING
The air around her was sweet with the scent of flowers and their colors, vibrant and dynamic. Vibrant red carnations stood out like blood among their white compatriots, the white petals of bloodroot and snowdrop anemone reflected the sunlight like tiny mirrors blinding her while the vibrant blues and purples of Grape Hyacinth and Iris commanded her attention. She enjoyed the quiet of the garden, the soft birdsong and the crunch of grass underneath bare feet. The soft heat of the sun tickled her shoulder and the wind tickled the back of her neck when she took a deep breath. At that moment, her very being was infused with the scents of spring and she smiled. She was a flower queen; a gentle, loving ad forgiving queen. She enjoyed the silence and semi privacy for just a few moments as the sound of grass crunching under her feet was soon joined by the low buzz of voices and the few strains of music. They grew as she approached and soon she was submerged beneath the smiles and the sounds, and the duty of being a good queen. The queen who pardoned and gave mercy while playing a delicate and intricate game of picking and choosing her allies, from the smiling cheats to the loyal devotees. The queen who looked for power and strength and when she found it, her façade almost broke.
There he stood in the shade of the wisteria trees, a foreigner in her court and a man who had hidden from her view. The finery of her court was absent from his person, their gentle smiles and gestures, absent, their air of hidden mystery; missing. His clothing was simple and his face blank, the features schooled to a certain relaxed and calm state that it was almost that of a well-kept and complacent animal. She began to pass over him, she had no use for beasts of burden, until he lifted his gaze and revealed himself to her.
SUMMER
The sight of him made her heart race, her head spin. Irrational. Foolish. Careless. He made her these things with just a glance of his glinting, silver eyes. He made her blood rush like the mountain rivers that flooded the farmland in the early summer and the horses that ran in the summer races.
She loved his face, the hard cruel features of his face, the high brow and severe brown eyes, the always stern lips. She enjoyed looking at his face, watching his emotions flit across his face in small movements as he pondered matters of state and the court. And while his face was pleasnt to look at, that was not why she had chosen him. There were a number of pretty faces in the court but there was emptiness behind them or a festering poison that could infect her at any moment. But he was different, because of the strength that he carried himself with. He walked with the stride of a conquering lord, with a gaze that made lesser men tremble and quail while aspiring others to be like him.
He was what she needed, the king beside a queen, an equal in power, a fellow conqueror and a general to lead her army.
FALL
The war had died down, the people had settled, the land had been conquered. As far as her eye could see, everything belonged to her. To her subjects, she was a gracious queen, fair and just as she was beautiful. Her rulings were just, her people protected beneath her fair and unwavering hand, happy with their simple lives and good queen. But there was always a sense of worry in the air as the harvest season began to end and the snow clouds began to prowl at the edges of their territory along with the prowling scouts of other countries.
While her people were happy and content, there was a constant undercurrent of worry. The ambassadors poured in, with their fanciful words and plentiful gifts but all were sent back to their countries, scowling and scheming with their allies and countrymen. Because she was a queen with no king. A queen whose king had died in the battle for this country and a country that she ruled in his name. But she was still a queen with no king. A lonely queen with no sons or daughters and no successors.
But with a sigh, almost hopeful, she gazed out the window of a tower or looked into the darkening sky from a courtyard because she knew.
That with the coming winter, that she would be young again and there would be another silver eyed man and it would all begin again.
As if it had never started.
