Masks of Fire and Shadow

Chapter 1

Eowyn

"The weight of the crown is not measured in gold or jewels, but in the chains it wraps around your soul."

~

I've always hated this place. Ebonmere, with its marble halls and shimmering spires, gleams like a beacon of light to the outside world, but within these walls, it is nothing but a gilded cage. The other gods walk tall and speak of honor and power, but I've learned that power didn't lie in what you took- it lay in what one was forced to endure.

"Straighten your back, Eowyn."

I hear my mother's clipped tone in my head as if she's standing right beside me, and a cold shiver runs down my spine. The Queen's commands are a constant presence, even when she isn't there to deliver them. She didn't need to be. Her disappointment lingers like a shadow, always with me, always reminding me of what I'm not; the obedient heir she wanted, that she for some reason felt she deserved.

I look out over the balcony, past the willowy trees of the palace gardens, into the swirling mists that alienated Ebonmere from the rest of the world. Somewhere out past the Aethirym mountain range is the war, the chaos, the life I crave but can never have. Somewhere out there, people were living and dying by their own choices, having been able to make them themselves. I rub my palms against the stone railing, the coolness anchoring me in a reality that felt too small for the storm rising in my chest.

My mother would call it insubordination. I call it survival.

My life has always been about surviving... her. Vespera, Queen of the Gods, the ruler of this cursed kingdom, and the reason my every breath felt like rebellion. If I stepped wrong, if I looked at her wrong, if I thought wrong, I could feel her judgment, sharp and unyielding. I wondered, did she even realize that with every punishment, with every cold stare, she pushed me further away?

Not that she'd ever held me close. Or held me at all, even.

The sky darkens, clouds thick with the weight of a coming storm. I welcome it with a soft, tight-lipped smile. The wind picks up, tugging at the loose strands of my hair that had pulled itself free from my wild auburn braid, the taste of rain sharp on my tongue. I tip my head back to the wind's biting chill, closing my eyes and inhaling the scent of the incoming storms. Even the weather seemingly obeyed her command, yet she couldn't control me. Not entirely.

I turn away from the view, retreating into the familiar solace of my chambers while leaving the double doors to my balcony open to invite the wind to shift the suppressing air inside. My mother would be expecting me in the throne room soon, and I would have to tear myself from my sanctuary. Another pointless meeting where she would parade me around like a well-trained pet in front of the court. The thought of it made my skin crawl.

I pull the iron clasp from my wrist, letting the attached robe fall to the floor. The fabric, heavy and embroidered with the crest of Ebonmere, looks like something I should've burned. I hate it almost as much as I hate what it stands for, the bloodline I come from. I toss it to the floor beside my bed with a sneer.

Instead, I crouch down and reach for the simple black cloak hidden beneath my bed. A reminder that the crown doesn't own me. I think of the face my mother always makes when she sees that I favored the plain garment in place of the one bearing her crest, a refusal to acknowledge her position. Her power. Every time I see that scowl of disapproving anger, my heart swells with satisfied pride. I smirk at the thought of it as I run the smooth, dark fabric through my hands in a soft caress.

How much comfort the heaviness of a single garment brings me, when I abhor the touch of another person.

The constant feeling of being watched in the palace of Ebonmere is suffocating. I sit back on my haunches, debating silently with myself as I yet again try to think of a way out of this life, this charade, and this... oppressive regime. I know that if I really, truly want to live a life that every other god, immortal or not, my age was allowed to lead, I wouldn't be able to do it here. Not under the queen's cold, unfeeling, watchful eye. I huff a loud sigh, blowing the loose tendrils of hair back from my face as I attempt to convince myself to make up my mind.

I can't let her keep me prisoner here, not anymore. I can't keep lying to myself that so long as she let me live, I would someday stumble upon a happily ever after. An ending where I'm not a prisoner to a mother who doesn't want me around.

I can't keep lying to myself that someday, she'll come around. Someday, I'll do right in her eyes, and every wrong thing I've ever done would be erased and she'd be a mother to me. I know, with a painful twinge in my chest, that she will never feel that way, will never accept me for me. Not as long as I have my personality, my interests; my wish to truly live.

And not wrapped in elegant, draping fabrics while my throat and appendages were dripping with the kingdom's most expensive jewels. Not while lazily sprawling in the lap of luxury, pampered and spoiled by all that surrounded me. I hate it, and much prefer britches to gowns, tunics to bodices. Hatchets to folding fans, sparring to debating politics.

My lip curls as I realize that in a little over a week, I'll have to put on airs at my mother's annual Solstice masquerade. I'll have to be the shining jewel of the kingdom and show my mother that I can be refined, polite, and tasteful- demure. The very idea of it brings a pit of dread and nausea to the very pit of my stomach. Too

many people packed into one tight space.

Tonight, I decide with a sharp set of my jaw as I get to my feet and clutch my cloak to my chest while gazing back out the wide double doors, I'll slip past the guards. I'll leave the palace, this time choosing to venture outside of the garden, which is really the only place outside of these cold stone walls that I'm allowed to go by myself. Even if only for a moment, I will breathe fresh, clean air that wasn't tainted by the weight of duty. Of disappointment, and the Queen's regret.

Tonight, I'll be free. Or at least I'll get to pretend I am, for a little while. I just need some space to breathe before I'm forced to push the mask back into place.