Mortimer, Mortimer (On Hold)

Chapter One

I opened my eyes. I saw a glimmer of mauve daylight glisten in from in between the curtain. I felt so sick that I didn't want to get out of bed. I turned over and looked at Warric. His
tear-stained face fallen in a deep sleep. I pulled myself under his arm.

"Are you awake? Olathe?"

"Yea."

"Another day closer."

I pondered for a moment, trying not to cry.

"Or another farther away."

There was a rapping on the door. Advisors were bidding us awake. We eventually rose from the bed and got dressed. How could all of this have happened so fast? I looked around at the doorway. The doorway that I had spotted my child in when I saw her for the very last time. I remember it so well, seeing her swaddled in the arms of that gnarled Warlock. That Warlock that tricked me into loving him. That Warlock- who helped me when I couldn't beat death. If it weren't for that stupid Erwin Stilskin, King Ulmer would have learned I wasn't cursed with the Washer's Curse. He would have killed me, because I could not spin hay into gold. He would've poisoned his wife and son- my husband, King Warric. Flint wouldn't be a kingdom, Olivian and Mortimave would of been two, and I would have never met my best friend, Flint or Filtworth Spooke, and he wouldn't of been dead. Warric would of been married to a princess or duchess of a neighboring kingdom. He would have both of his arms instead of one. He would have children. Children that weren't kidnapped and tucked away in Fallore. We'd have her back. We'd have her in our arms if it weren't for the Fallorian charm. The Sorcerer Glade of Fallore is hidden from human eye. I looked around as I tucked my hair up. I glanced at Warric. He'd spent hundreds of thousands upon millions of Tickers on assassins and search parties and bounty hunters with no luck. The economy was failing. Farmers suffered. We were being called to sign on a wager from Longston. This must've been the tenth loan this year. I couldn't think easily knowing my daughter was in the hands of Erwin and was almost two years old. I pondered myself often. I often thought, what if, Olathe, what if you'd never gotten into this mess? What if you'd never had Astrea? What if you'd lived your life poor and happy with your drunken father. You'd of never lost your child and the last piece of your mother- the necklace would be around your neck, and you probably would have ended up marrying the milk boy and inheriting the dairy. I looked at my husband, the king of Flint.
'Stupid of me,' I thought to myself. 'Warric is your love. You will get Astrea back with a little luck, and all will be well. You wouldn't trade him for the world if it meant you got to keep your little Astrea Annie.'

...

We sat at the Long Table. Warric, sitting to my right at the Head, and the Duke of Longston sitting at the other side. The Longston and Flint advisors crowded around. Warric sat, scanning the wager. Longston was a fair kingdom, the wager they had drawn was legitimate and there were no fine lines. Warric picked up the quill and dipped it into the glass inkwell sitting in front of him. The room was filled with a heavy silence. Just as the quill touched the parchment-

Thud.

"Wait! Halt!" A man threw open the door. Guards were attempting to restrain him. His face was hollow, skin and bone. My father. "You can't do this! Olathe, please, I beg you. The whole kingdom is starving! Our taxes are too high, and the mills are down. Children! Children are starving and there is nothing to be done!"

"Guards!" Warric yelled.

"Fath-" I broke off into silence. I couldn't forgive him. I knew it was wrong. Deep down inside of me, I felt as if I really did love him; if I tried. Yet I could not forgive him for what he had done to me. He had betrayed my mother when she was sick. He had betrayed my family when he destroyed his business. He betrayed me when he told that wretched man at the bar I could spin hay to gold. The only loyalties he had were to his alcohol. His ales and liquors and brandies and wines- those were his family.

"Get him out of here!" The Duke proclaimed. I bowed my head and when I looked up, my father was gone and the papers were signed.

...

I sat on the bed in our bed chamber. I saw Warric round the corner.

"It's not fair to them, Olathe. You can't just starve a kingdom."

"I know, Warric. But what do you propose we do?" I felt bad. He had stressed so much about this wager in the past hour than I had in my life.

"Your father? He's starving to death. And there are thousands of people- children, mothers, daughters, who are starving too!" He sat on the bed and grabbed my hand. "I can't do this. Think of all the other parents who will feel just like us when their child dies because of me."

I wrapped my arm around his shoulders.
"Warric, please. You can't be so hard on yourself."

"What other option do we have?"

My heart burned. Deep inside, I knew there was another way. I stuttered to find the words, despite them burning inside of me.
"I believe there is one."

"-What?" Warric said glaring at me unsurely.

"There is another way to find her. You're not going to like it."

Warric began to shake and fell to his knees. I shed a tear.

"Olathe, please." He touched my arm. He was almost crying.

"The nights Stilskin came for me, he said just to call him. Call him when I needed him to spin the straw. Call and he would come."

Warric stood. He put his hand on the back of his neck and craned his head to the ceiling. We stood in silence. I looked at him and my glance was returned. His eyes were desperate. Having an awful, murdering, manipulative, dictating father for a king who had died during a battle against him, a mother who was murdered by his father, a step mother who'd fled after the king died and was never to be found, and a little sister who died moments after birth, Warric was worn. He couldn't stand knowing his daughter and only child was lost. He had fought until he'd won, only to lose his only treasure. He looked at me with sad, hollow eyes and asked a simple question.

"When?"

...