Anthology: The Keeper Of Stories

Crown

PART 2

In the depths of a cold, windy night, a frail looking young woman sprinted through the darkness. Her trembling form cut a sharp silhouette against the moonlit sky, yet determination blazed in her eyes. With hurried, stumbling steps, she finally reached the imposing gates of the palace.

"I want to see the emperor! I am Penelope Baker! I beg the King to help his daughter!" Her voice cracked as she cried out, hoping against hope that someone, anyone, would hear her. Her words echoed through the courtyard, carried by the biting wind. Servants glanced nervously at one another; they recognized her immediately. She was the King's abandoned, illegitimate child, long cast aside and forgotten.

"Go away! You're disgracing the royal family! Guards, get this woman out of here!" one of the servants barked, throwing a bucket of cold water at Penelope. The guards approached, sneering, grabbing her roughly, some yanking her by the hair. Penelope struggled desperately.

"No! Please, I beg you!" Her voice broke, growing hoarse. "My mother is dying! She's the only family I have! All my life, I've never asked for anything, never sought recognition as his child. But this is my one and only wish, please, help my mother!"

Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the water that soaked her frail body, making her look even smaller and more pitiful. But the guards' faces remained cold, their eyes devoid of pity, as they dragged her away without a second glance. Penelope watched, heartbroken, as the palace gates closed behind them. She gritted her teeth, determined not to give up. If the King wouldn't help, she would find another way.

Weak and drenched, she limped home through the night. "Mother... I'm back," she whispered as she entered their crumbling home. "I brought some herbs that might help..." But her voice trailed off, her breath caught in her throat as she stood frozen in horror.

"M-Mom... MOM!"

Years passed.

The clattering of hooves and wheels echoed through the village as a grand carriage rolled into view. The villagers, seeing the familiar insignia, lit up with joy. They gathered eagerly, waiting for the carriage to stop. An elegant young lady stepped out, smiling warmly at the crowd.

"Good morning," she greeted.

"Good morning, Lady Nel!" they replied, beaming with affection.

"Are you visiting the church today, my lady?" one of the villagers asked.

"Yes, I am," she answered, her smile soft but radiant.

"Take care on the road, Lady Nel!" they called after her as she walked gracefully toward the church.

The villagers adored her. Lady Nel, as she was now known, had earned their love with her kindness and generosity. She was often found volunteering at the Maison Dieu, treating patients, or spending time at the orphanage, teaching children. Many called her a saint, and she helped all who sought her counsel, asking nothing in return.

Now, seated in the serene garden of the church, Lady Nel sipped tea with an important guest.

"How have you been, Lady Nel?" asked the man across from her, his tone respectful.

"I have been well, Your Holiness," she replied softly, lowering her cup.

Just then, another figure entered the garden.

"Forgive my lateness," the newcomer said.

Lady Nel stood and offered a respectful greeting. "Good morning, Duke Walter."

The duke returned her bow. "A good morning to you, Lady Nel, and Your Holiness."

The Pope smiled gently. "Good morning, Duke Walter. But let's set aside the formalities, there is much to discuss. Penelope..." He turned his gaze to Lady Nel.

At the mention of her true name, Penelope's expression changed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she sipped her tea.

"The people are growing restless," the Pope continued. "The emperor's tyranny has driven them to the brink. Rebellion is brewing."

"This is an opportunity," Duke Walter added, a calculating glint in his eyes. "We've garnered enough support from the nobility and, more importantly, from the commoners." He chuckled, casting a glance at Penelope. "Thanks to Lady Nel, Saint to some, Penny, Pelicia, Poppy to others, we already hold significant influence."

The Pope nodded. "The church stands with you, Penelope, as does the alliance led by Duke Walter. The emperor's lack of an heir simplifies matters greatly."

Penelope's eyes gleamed with quiet resolve as she set her cup down. "Leave it to me," she said softly. "I will seize the throne. It has been my dream for a long time."

The Duke and the Pope exchanged knowing glances, their smiles faint but approving. The weight of their unspoken understanding hung in the air.

"Miss Elena? Miss, are you all right?"

I blinked, startled, as the docent's voice pulled me from my reverie. "Ah... yes, I'm fine."

The docent smiled, relieved, and continued addressing the tour group. "And that concludes what we know about the Great Queen, the woman with many names, Queen Penelope, the Queen without a King. This portrait is the only authentic image of her that remains."

As the others murmured in admiration, I stood rooted in place, staring at the painting. I knew more about Queen Penelope than most. I knew how she had suffered after her mother's death, how she had clawed her way out of poverty, and how the church had taken her in, helping her rise from nothing to power. With their support, and the alliance led by Duke Walter, she had orchestrated her ascension, reclaiming the throne from her tyrannical father.

My gaze shifted to the small diary in the portrait, a diary identical to the one I carried. There was more to Penelope's story, a deeper connection, a thread that linked her life to mine.

Author's Note;
Newly written, I can see my improvement o (* ￣︶￣ *) o.