Silhouettes

Voice of Fear

Prologue: Voice of Fear

Even though it was warm, like on a hot summer's day, the sun wasn't shining like it generally would be. Wind howled outside the castle windows in a rage, rattling the weak glass using the trees surrounding the building as they shook with the wind, spindly branches attacking the castle walls mercilessly. Rather than a regularly-seen sky blue, the sky above was a cold grey, like the stone that housed the tyrant girl who was close to ordering an execution.

She was sitting at her throne, legs thrown over the left arm casually, with an aura of malice and cruelty rather than the innocent, pure-hearted royalty everyone would expect. Her face was young, almost too young to be a ruler, and her expression conveyed no real emotion, only a sick smile that shook everyone in the room to the core. Her long black hair was neatly tied up in a bun, with some loose strands of hair escaping the tie and framing her face as her piercing, ice-blue eyes stared down at the woman who was standing before her defiantly.

"What do you wish for me to hear?" she drawled, sounding bored. The woman glared at her, and if looks could kill, the girl would have dropped dead on the spot.

"Your Majesty," the woman pleaded. "My family - the only ones I have - they have no food nor water, we are going hungry and we have no money, for none of us have any jobs. Please, please can we pay our taxes next month, along with next month's tax? My brother - he - " The expression on the brown-haired woman's face was filled with hatred towards the lady she was addressing, but her voice cracked at the mention of her sibling. "-he's dying. Please -"

"No." The girl on the throne tilted her head slightly, her face full of mock horror. "You haven't paid tax, and then there must be a price to pay instead of with money. Your brother will die. End of story. You hear me? End of story."

There was a cold silence hanging over the court as the girl finished her terrible proclamation. The woman stared at the smirking girl in disbelief before stepping forward close enough as she could, and dared, and spat at the floor close to the throne. "We'd be much better off in this world without people like you, especially if they rule," she hissed, her warm brown eyes blazing. "The Divas and the Rockers and all of them, all of the Singers, they will bring you down, every last piece of flesh that makes your being, and then you will be gone from our world forever. I pray for that day to come, bitch." She spat again with finality, nearly an inch away from the girl's dangling feet.

The girl shrieked with fury and jumped up from her lounging on the throne, pointing one small, carefully painted nail towards the older woman. "You insolent fool! How dare you speak to me in such a way, the queen! Guards, take her and throw her in cell! She is to be executed tomorrow at dawn, and then annihilate her whole precious family, including her dear, sweet brother," she ordered, her voice taking on the sickly-sweet tone of a manipulating child towards the end. The woman's eyes widened, and then, with a scream of anger and sorrow, leapt towards the girl's throat with no avail; the guards situated close by already had her arms behind her back and forced her to the floor.

She fought with wild abandon; with a strength that didn't exist in a normal person; a strength that the woman had no idea she possessed, her fears for her family and rage at the girl giving her the strength she wanted and needed. In the end, a blow from one of the guards to the head subdued her, and she gave up, head slumped, arms still flailing weakly, legs attempting to kick out, her entire being exhausted and defeated under the physical and mental pressure of being outnumbered.

"Take her away. Now." The icy-eyed girl had watched the entire struggle disinterestedly, and gave the final order once it had ended, once she was satisfied that her victim wasn't going to try anymore. Many of the servants had looked away, sickened and horrified by the scene. The fatigued, battered woman was dragged away, her head bowed in submission, her tears rolling down her pale cheeks and hitting the floor with insignificant splashes, distorting the patterns on the tiles in the water.

The princess looked around at the motionless, terrified staff. "Well? What are you looking at? Clean that stuff up! Now, before you get thrown in with her!"

They all snapped into action at once, afraid of suffering her wrath and wanting the remnants of the heartbreaking scene wiped from existence. They hurried around under her watchful eyes, wiping the floor of water and some blood, making it as spotless as it had been before, as if the scuffle never happened. Soon enough, everything was clear, and the servants and maids had all returned to their appropriate posts, wanting to get away from the room and the now irritated queen.

Tentatively, her personal servant approached her, his own green eyes the only ones that were full of calm, rather than fear. "My lady, you have the address to the land to carry out in a few minutes. Would my lady wish to be changed? I can arrange for a dress to be brought down at once."

She shook her head, the small crown on her head bouncing around the bun. "I shall stay as I am, Allen. Thank you." Her affection for the boy who was always close to her side was obvious, she treated him like close family. They were very close, and Allen Richardson was the only person she had ever truly smiled at and with. It was common knowledge to the staff of the castle that she loved his cooking, and almost treated him like a younger brother.

He extended his hand towards her, smiling broadly. "Then we shall be going, my lady." Her black-gloved hand slipped neatly into his white-gloved one of his own, and he escorted her to the balcony, higher up in the castle towers, where it was mainly used to give addresses to the country, and where she would make her speech. Allen was smart enough to know not to mention the previous disaster, but she brought it up anyway in a saddened, wearied tone. She stopped as they walked, and Allen paused too, turning to his mistress in concern. "My lady?"

"I'm so tired of this, Allen," she sighed. "The whole country is terribly pathetic, and I know everything is going wrong, but it's not my fault! Everyone is coming to me with their problems, and I don't know how to work it out! I can't solve everything! I'm only fifteen years old! I want to save this world, and I want to make everything better, but I don't know how to do it!"

He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder gently. "Being the queen has a lot of responsibility attached to it, my lady," Allen told her quietly, his eyes serious as he looked into her panicked ones. "Maybe when you solve one problem, you can take that knowledge and carry it on to help you solve the next. Sure, the world is falling apart, but with patience and logic, everything will be okay in the end."

His idea calmed her down, and she smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Allen."

He led her to the balcony, and as she stepped into the warm air, the whole country was waiting. It was unnaturally silent for a queen's address, and the atmosphere was tense and fearful. Once stepping into the dark aura again, she felt scared, and angry, just like before. No one was willing to accept her because she wasn't like the queen before her. She felt a sharp pang of emotional pain at her heart as she encountered the country that she knew hated her.

Allen, behind her, was close to tell the country himself to give her a chance, to relax and let her become settled so she could balance everything that had suddenly been thrust onto her. But instead, he let her do what she wanted, like he was supposed to do. She turned back to him, and he merely shrugged. You can do what you want.

She looked down at the people again, meeting their fearful, poisoned feelings with her own frightened, distorted mind. She felt like screaming. There was nothing she could do, and she knew it. The way she had acted for the last few months had formed the peoples' concept of her into solid stone, and she hated them for it, hated them for judging her when she was so young and inexperienced.

They will pay, she thought venomously, wishing that she could just control them with her mind, make them relax and let her settle.

Elluka Lucifenia spread her arms to the people and the sky, her gloves slipping slightly down her arm, and giggled. It was childish, but load enough and high enough for the country to hear. It pierced the sky, the space, and the peoples' minds without problem. Her musical voice possessed every person there, and they reluctantly did her bidding, because they knew they had no choice. Her will flowed through them, and they were forced to drop to their knees.

"Now, bow to me!"