THREE DARK QUEENS
are born in a glen
SWEET LITTLE TRIPLETS
will never be friends
THREE DARK WITCHES
all fair to be seen
TWO TO DEVOUR
one to be queen
On the island of Fennbirn every generation three triplets are born, all equal heirs to the throne...
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Queen Arwen stands in the grand shadow ballroom, that for once looks innocently beautiful as the light of a new day hits the room, making the chandelier's diamonds sparkle in every direction, rays of golden light creeping up the blue and grey walls making the whole room seem lighter and happier.
Smiling, Arwen watches the fireplace as the flames dance rhythmically and hiss like snakes. She has been coming to the ballroom more often lately, so that she could avoid Klaude as yesterday he had the audacity to kiss her. So naturally she slapped him across the face. Hard.
After that, Arwen has been feeling a little irritated at Klaude, no doubt he's kissed hundreds of Valostran girls. He probably thought Arwen has kissed many on the island but he is wrong. She had barely been allowed to have friends in Umbra much less romantic partners.
Arwen knows it is silly to think of their kiss so much at a time like this but she'd rather concentrate on that than think about the horrors that will eventually enter her life. Will she live or die? But instead she thinks about some stupid boy from a mainland kingdom nothing like Fennbirn at all.
It is a queendom here though it is a kingdom everywhere else beyond the island, various kings that rule the various territories of the mainland. With the loss of the mist that protected them after the deaths of Mirabella Mistbane and Queen Katharine the Undead the island had to repair ties with the mainland, create newer alliances. However, some kingdoms of course wanted to try their luck but they were foolish to try it during the early reign of a war queen, Halia.
None have dared come close to the island in years, not since Queen Halia taught Centra a lesson when they caused a fuss over trading deals. They're scared of the island and it's strange ways. How odd it must be on the mainland, Arwen thinks, no triplet queens, no Goddess and no gifts. Just foolish kings and promises of marriage. All the same politics, alliances and treachery but no gifts, no queens raised to slay each other.
Arwen hears noise suddenly and looks around to see that a few Umbra priestesses and nobles have come in, all of their rushing footsteps echoing off the marble blue floor and all of them retreat into the different corners of the large hall, like wolves ready to attack, all of them circling her like predators, sniffing out weaknesses and waiting for the prime opportunity to attack.
To her disgust, she sees Klaude enter, his eyes burning into hers for a second before he completely looks away, ignoring her as he starts an intense conversation with Orpheus Raduron. Probably more about the alliances or whatever men like to talk about.
She turns back around, almost feeling angry at Klaude ignoring her but Arwen is confused about her emotions now more than ever; she wonders if her sisters have as many different emotions as she does or maybe they find it easy, with their only thoughts on seducing the suitors during the Disembarking, performing well during the Quickening and surviving their Ascension Year, where one of them will inevitably become queen of the island, the blood of the fallen sisters feeding the island. She feels an icy hand on her shoulder and she turns around, already knowing who this icy hand belongs too and sees Cierra Raduron.
