•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 woke up, groggy from the events from the earlier day. She barely remembered untangling herself from the sheets and pieces of ceramic on the ground and settling her exhausted body on the couch. Her grief was intoxicating, pulling her into a restless sleep.
"Your grace?"
An uncertain voice rang out. She immediately associated it with Laura. Her worried eyes raked over her grazed skin, cut because of the ceramics. Chelona hadn't even bothered to get rid of the white velvet gown, which was now decorated with bright red blood stains. They were too many for them to be only from the ceramic scratches. She cursed under her breath.
Laura regarded her blood drenched gown and her annoyed expression. She sighed," Monthly cycle, your grace?"
"No, Laura, I stabbed my self."
"Your Grace!"
"Sarcasm Laura, relax. And arrange for a warm bath and some . . . supplies."
"Yes, your grace."
She bowed and left. Chelona frowned down at her waist . . .and downwards. She had been so preoccupied with her sister and father and kingdom, that she'd completely lost track. And, she didn't think she had been expecting these for another week. Another something she couldn't control.
She stood up, and felt a few drops of blood drip, and almost screamed in frustration. Laura returned and led her to her baths. She and two others cleaned her, scrubbed her and scented her with soft smelling oils and perfumes. Laura selected a large red silk gown that embraced her bodice tightly. It's material was thin enough for Chelona to feel the cold bite of the wind on her skin as Laura wrapped a gold cloak around her. Pheonix colours, she realised, red and gold. She was literally dressed as their house banner.
Laura started to weave her hair in a braided roll behind her hair that complimented the crown sitting on her head. It felt horribly heavy on her brow, its metal digging into her skull. It was uncomfortable, troubling. Chelona kept moving it, hoping it would sit comfortably on her brow. It did not. Her exercise continued until Rhea yelled at her to keep still and stop moving that piece of shit.
My father wore it better, my sister could have worn it better. At least, better than I am.
She did stop moving it. And after a certain amount of time, it was just a dull pain, waiting to be subdued.
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"My Queen, they are ready," said Eddard.
Chelona nodded, feeling no emotion now. It was like her mind had built a wall around itself, trying to shield itself from the harsher aspects of existence.
Her sister's and father's, her only true blood's bodies were ready for the funeral. A worried expression still laced Eddard's features. His eyes too, shone with a certain worry. It troubled her more than she could imagine.
"The healers and spiders and spies have observed, cleaned and seen the bodies. And they claim that there is something you, My Queen, should see."
