Throne To The Wolves

After Dusk, Before Dawn

Chapter one: Hannah's Curse

It was tradition. And not one of which the people had any choice. In a world, of which only two types of people coexisted, there was no such thing as middle class. In this world, you were either filthy rich or the filth itself.

There were mansions, mansions that could house up to seventy residents yet only housed up to six main positions-Queen, King, prince, princess, King father, and Regent-and fifteen servants. The king and queen of these mansions owned hundreds of acres of land while the more opulent acquired thousands.

And on these acres, small villages would dwell. Villages that housed less than a hundred residents, otherwise known as scum. The scum were old, young, white, and black, but what they had most in common was their worth. The scum were poor from head to toe. Only the most stable owned shoes and toothbrushes.

The living conditions were taunting with the unstable weather patterns.

But our story lingers not.

It begins in one village, of whose king and Queen owned only five-hundred acres of land. The village was known as Bottom Barrel, total population of seventy-nine.

The village housed farmers, fishermen, hunters, gatherers, and regular consumers that knew of food only they themselves and the village could gather. The houses were known as stilts and there were only ten with one market and three convenient shacks. The stilts were made by the villagers and their material consisted of the raw materials only they themselves found. This included the deep-brown timber that hug their village tight like a blanket, the fur of acquired animals, and some of the stone their merciful king would send them on occasion of having 'too much' money.

Rooftops were slanted, walls were caved in, some stilts may not have even had doors, but this described not of the cottage.

The red cottage.

It was tradition. And not one of which the people had any choice.

She ran.

Each step away from the village, another into the belly of the beast. The belly of the beast being their curse. Her great-great-great grandmother's curse who had been passed down for several generations and now was finally manifesting in her daughter. The young child no-older than four that clung to her chest, legs wrapped tightly around her waist as they fled. Not only the village did they flee of, but its tradition and consequences of defying it. But above all, they fled the cottage. The red cottage.

Bottom Barrel, the village as sacred as it is secret and covered by trees as it is infected by a curse. A curse that will not sleep, that will not ease off its hosts but dwell deeper and manifest stronger with each generation.

And why? You may ask.

Because of Hannah Truerbear. The unspoken name-the forbidden name, in the village of Bottom Barrel. The name told to bring famine and war and disease. The name that started it all. The name that started the tradition.

Hannah Truerbear, a girl unlike you or I, was the first born child of Queen and King Truerbear. She was known throughout all the land as the most beautiful child the Goddess Zemora had ever bestowed a monarchy. Over the years, and as Hannah flourished into an even more beautiful young lady, she conquered millions of acres of land with the suitors befitted to rule beside her. Earning her parents' respect as well as her scum that she saw as beings equal to herself. For this, she was loved by all. Everything was perfect.

But, when puberty-the process of a new queen and king stepping up to take their throne-hit, Hannah could not bear a child. She was given a time range of two years and nine months to produce the most beautiful and healthy daughter since her birth, or have her entire monarchy, mansion, and birth title as queen revoked. As months passed and Hannah was still unable to conceive, she began to lose her mind. Mirrors were shattered, sheets were torn, her entire nursery sector of the mansion was demolished as she lay amongst the rubble and soaked her tattered dress of rags with tears. Feeling the pressure of her deadline weigh down on her like a boulder, Hannah was forced to take desperate measures. Hannah turned from the Goddess Zemora and lied victim to witch craft and sorcery. Selling not just her soul and her beauty, Hannah bartered everything worth giving to produce her beautiful baby girl.