•ON HOLD•
Chelona Castellanos is not a queen.
She is not someone who can handle a kingdom, have a lordly, kingly, husband, wear ball gowns and pass judgement. She is a free spirit who never really was free.
But when she finds her family murdered, he...
Chelona left Rhea's chambers, for her to be tended to better health. Her head throbbed, she still felt horribly weak. The world seemed to sway slightly below her feet, threatening to push her over.
It was almost twilight. Her long shadow enveloped the hallway and velvet curtains in it's dark glory. She stared at it as it seemed to move in the breeze. The weather was slowly morphing towards cold, for summer had been long, and needed to come to an end. Chelona hated winters. Morbid colds, icy winds and snow. The long never ending winters were often nightmarish.
The southerners had it easy. Their summers were harsher than their winters which was, quite hard to believe. Yet, the harsh summers called the rains regularly, ensuring the well being of their crops. They got perfectly seasonal rains according to which, they planned their crops. She didn't know much about the topic, yet, Rhea had mede sure, that if they were to wed Southerners then, they must be fully aware of the happenings of their state.
She was soon joined by the chief minister of the state, a wiry, old man of about seventy five winters, Eddard.
"Hello, Eddard."
"Your Majesty."
"What have you got for me?"
He sighed. "Discontent, your grace. The kingdom is in outrage. They say they will not have a solo queen rule them. Our spies and shadows smell a revolt on its way."
"Is there a way we could stop it."
He looked at her. Pity shone in his hazel eyes. He had always been a kind man. She had always liked him a lot. He touched her cheek, tears shining in his eyes. She realised, that in her prime moment of grief, she'd forgotten to notice that others felt the same grief and pain too.
" Your majesty, the kingdom needs to have heirs. For that you need to have a husband. "
To her credit she did not flinch. She was hardly of age in her seventeen winters. Girls came to age at eighteen. Astrea, in her twenty one winters, could've gotten married, have had children, ruled a kingdom. But she was gone. The soft chants were still ringing in her mind,
I need you. I need you. I need you.
"But to find a prince, willing, and marriageable before things get worse, Eddard? It's impossible!"
He looked dejected. He had always cared for the both of them as though they were his own. The look in his eyes threatened to break her heart. Yet, she felt hollow inside, carved, as though someone had completely hollowed her from inside. Like a shell.
" You must tie the ties with the house we were to embrace as our own. The Moonbeams."
Her heart dropped. To marry her sister's fiancé, it seemed like betraying Astrea.
"I wish to address the crowds who are against my rule. Assemble them as much as you can. I want my voice to be heard. And multiply the security."
"Yes, your grace."
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