Bound by Roses (The Bound Series Book 1) (9 page)

She stared down at it. She wanted to work, but did not have the energy. Instead, Marguerite’s mind wandered to her mother, Lady Astra White, the Witch that would eventually become known as the Queen.

Her thoughts did not linger there long, but soon wandered to her father, Lord White. Her thoughts moved to the advice he would bestow upon those that asked. Out of the window she stared. Her thoughts lingered to the darkness that was the catacombs. Marguerite let her thick red robe drop as she rose. She dressed quickly in a gown of violet, and she scuttled away to the catacombs to speak to her father.

She slowly descended the damp stairs with white rose in hand. Free hand kept her gown from getting too dirty. Down past bronze wall plagues, marking individuals noteworthy enough to be buried in the Ashok Orai catacombs. It was not until the bottom of the stairs that three passages existed closed by a heavy metal grate. The bars of which were intricately formed, and shaped into roses, thorns, and vines. All three passages semi lit by torches that extended down into unending darkness.

A single guard in his bright white armor stood watch over the three halls. Standing tall, sword was out and vertical upon his arm. Marguerite stopped before him, “You are dismissed. Please wait at the entrance until I am finished.”

“Yes, Lady White,” his armored boots clicked together. He sheathed his sword, bowed, and made his exit upwards.

Down the middle passage, Marguerite passed. The gate opened with a squeal that would have woken the dead. The ethereal scream sent chills through Marguerite. She stood still until the chills past.

Through the torch lit darkness, Marguerite passed row after row of lifeless bronze statues each a depiction of her ancestors. Lords of Ashok Orai she passed were all dressed in armor of the Age with swords unsheathed. While the Ladies of the House were all in long flowing robes and gowns that melted into the floor. Their hands folded before them in prayers to the Gods. Each statue guarded a dark hollow in the damp rock and in that a marble tomb. Marguerite looked at each one, for she always knew this to be her ultimate fate in life. To be entombed under the city, in eternal darkness, with only a flame, and her own statue as company.

It had been many seasons since she traveled this far below the city, as well as the first time since her father’s passing, nearly three years prior. So distraught was Marguerite, that she only attended half the ceremony. For to this day, none of the Court learned how her father came into contact with the poison that killed him so rapidly. Her heart beat quickly and loudly in her ears as she thought of it. Her breaths were heavy, and quivered. She wanted to turn back, but she knew she couldn’t. She needed to see her father’s tomb, for the first time.

The tunnel for the Lords and Ladies of the White Rose continued almost without end, but Marguerite stopped at the final torch. She stared into the unending darkness. She knew that in times not yet passed, more torches would line the hall, as her own descendants would fill the hall. Staring into the darkness, she chuckled at the thought of now being responsible for carrying on the White bloodline. Marguerite tried to imagine what that could look like, but the darkness gave her no clues, only sadness of loneliness, and her eventual fate.

Marguerite broke her gaze with the darkness. Through misty eyes, she stared at the strong-jawed statue of her father. His eyes as gaze less as the magic Mirror. Marguerite put the white rose upon the base. She shivered, but could not tell if it was from the dampness of the catacombs or her own sadness.

“Father, please forgive me for not coming sooner to pay respects,” Marguerite stood tall, hands clasped before her stomach, “I have been occupied, attempting to fill the void left by your absence.”

A breeze blew from the darkness. She thought it called her name. The torches flickered violently.

“
My little Snow White
,” Lord White in sun-bright white armor placed rough hands gently upon Marguerite’s shoulders, “
how you have grown
.” 

“I miss you,” Marguerite tried to touch her father’s hand, but could not. All she felt was her own shoulder, and a cool numbness from where he touched, “How will I ever hope to live up to the greatness that you yourself accomplished?”

“
One light is compared to a second, there is no equal
,” Lord White released his grip. Marguerite fought back tears, “
you will lead how you will lead, my love
.”

“Father!” Marguerite turned to find herself alone in the chamber. Her voice echoed into the eternal darkness until it died away into nothing.

Deep breath and Marguerite began to make her leave. Though not before the strange broken statue caught her eye. A statue she never paid much mind to in the past. It had been hacked away, or unfinished, Marguerite could not say. It lay across from her father’s tomb. No torch lit it, which is why it could have been easily missed.

Marguerite stood staring at the unmarked tomb, which belonged to a forgotten Lady of White, as spouses normally were laid to rest across from their significant others. Her stare lingered, but thought it could have been her mother, as she did die in the palace. There would be reason enough for her not to have a statue created. Another breeze through the darkness brought Marguerite to her senses. A sniffle of her nose, and she wiped away a tear. Marguerite paid it no mind as she made her exit from the damp tombs.

Back in the world of the living, the sun felt good upon Marguerite’s ice-cold flesh. She took her time to return to her quarters, as the wind felt good dancing upon her flesh. But when she arrived the unfiltered afternoon sun had warmed her quarters considerably. Marguerite sat once more upon her chair.

Her eyes gazed upon the many towers of Ashok Orai. Her heart wept, though no tears fell. She wished to return to another time, one in which the reality of Saledii’s death did weight not so heavily upon the realm. She thought of the magic cave years ago. Her mind urged her to go, but her body would not move. It became heavy. Marguerite did not remember closing her eyes, or falling asleep in the sun. But she slumbered as her wandered to Saledii.

The Tale of Snow White and Rose Red

Once Upon a time…

Two young girls, one with skin white as snow and hair darker than a raven’s feather and the other, hair redder than fire, and eyes the color of pumpkin decided upon an adventure into the woods. An adventure when they learned of a magical cave, near the ocean. Two best friends, near sisters, were not far into the woods near Ashok Orai, when they found a mighty brown bear attacking a short, ugly old man. His long, straggly grey beard was trapped in the log he attempted to jump over. The bear growled and prepared to strike the ugly old man.

“Scoot you bear!” Rose Red barked louder than the bear roared. The Bear ignored the girls and raised a paw in the air. Rose Red growled, “Scoot I said!”

The brown Bear rushed away from his prey with a huff.

“Do you need help sir?” Snow White asked the ugly man, who tried in vain to free his beard from the stump of log he was standing upon. He tugged and tugged with all his might.

The ugly creature pulled away from the two young girls, “I do not need your help, land creatures!”

He threw a crooked hand into the air. He was missing his ring finger at the lower knuckle.

“Land creatures? What a curious thing to say,” Rose Red stated with a smile.

Snow White approached the creature with her tiny hand extended outwards as he strained more, “Here, let us help you.”

“Do not touch me!” He struggled more as Rose Red came closer too, “stay back I said!”

With that the Ugly Little Man threw a sharp finger into the air, and disappeared in a bright flash of putrid green fire, which danced upon the log like waves that crash upon the shore. Both young girls were intrigue by the fire, but quickly covered their noses as the smell of the burning log reminded them of rotting fish. The smell dissipated rather swiftly upon the gentle blowing Winds. Both young girls shrugged off the thought of the strange ugly man, grabbed each other’s hands and disappeared deeper into the sunlit forest. They went back searching for the cave. A cave said to possess great magic.

The log burned with the putrid green fire for several hours.

Close to the sandy coast, the two girls found a young woman. Wavy, crimped sunset red hair spun-out like seaweed to the middle of her back. Almond skin, delicately sun kissed, looked almost translucent. Her skin glistened like scales. The woman danced most beautifully in the center of a tiny glade. The young woman was silent, and danced to a song only she could hear. She danced to the sounds of the crashing waves, and the rippling tides. She danced to the sounds of the ocean. She twirled and spun, though the two girls could see great pain cross her face with every step taken. Pain, as if every step she took, a thousand knives stabbed her feet. When the woman finished, she collapsed, covered in sweat. Tears fell from her eyes in heavy streams. She rubbed her legs tenderly while she rocked back and forth.

Both Snow White and Rose Red clapped from where they hid behind several bushes of the most beautiful pink flowers they had ever seen. The children came out into the glen. Startled, the woman rose swiftly and ran off. Tears fell rapidly from her eyes, and glistened in the sunlight.

“I wonder why she ran away?” Snow White asked of Rose Red.

“She was beautiful, and her dancing—” Rose Red stopped talking as bushes behind them rustled.

“She is very beautiful,” a deep males voice called from behind them.

Startled as well, they both fell back as a large brown bear parted the bushes, “Do not be afraid, I will not harm you.”

“But are you not the same bear from earlier?” Rose Red scampered back with Snow White close in hand.

“That I am,” the Bear walked into the light of the sun and shook off some leaves that became trapped in his brown fur.

“You were going to attack that ugly little man earlier,” Snow White held fast to Rose Red’s hand as he spoke. “How can we trust you?”

“He cursed me to this form, and to kill him would solve all my troubles,” the Bear spoke.

“Is there no other way?” Rose Red asked.

The Bear grumbled and sat down, head rested upon his paws. A loud snort escaped his nostrils. Dust clouds danced outwards “I have to guess his name. Which is beginning to prove to be more impossible with each passing day.”

“How difficult can it be to guess a name?” Rose Red asked.

The Bear let out a sigh, “more difficult than you realize my little pets.”

“Let us help you,” Snow White said, running her small fingers through the Bear’s fur.

“I cannot ask that of you, children,” The Bear looked down at the children, “This is my task, not yours.”

“But, surely with three heads, guessing will be much easier to accomplish,” Snow White snuggled up to the Bear, enjoying his soft warm fur. He was quiet for a moment as he contemplated what Snow White offered to him.

“I think you are right,” the Bear smiled and nodded his round head at the thought.

“Why were you watching the young lady dance?” Rose Red snuggled up to Snow White.

“She reminds me of someone who saved my life, not too long ago,” the Bear stated, adjusting his paws and stretching out.

“How romantic,” Rose Red yawned, snuggling closer to Snow White and the Bear. Her eyes began to grow tired.

“Gross, romance!” Snow White yawned as well, her eyes heavy.

“Nothing is gross, or disgusting about love young one. True loves kiss, will overcome
any
Evil,” it was the Bears turn to yawn as he spoke. His body released a great roar, and his body quaked ever so mightily. And when he finished, all fell asleep under the warm early afternoon light.

While the children slept soundly, the rustling of bushes and the cool sea breeze awaked the Bear. A strange smell hung upon it. It enticed him. He thought he could hear signing upon the currents. Within the shadows of the trees, the Bear saw the grey-aqua mist pulsate and swirl. Rising as gently as he could, the Bear wandered off after the mist. He was caught in its strange spell, for he had never seen anything like it before. It seemed to call to him, as if by magic he heard its voice, which beckoned him to follow.

Rose Red and Snow White eventually awoke to yelling and cursing coming not a long ways away from where they had fallen asleep. The sun did not seem to have moved. Rising with a stretch, the two girls decided to investigate, for the voice sounded like the ugly little man. A great noise rumbled through the brush. Walking, they found the source of the noise and commotion,

“
Well look there Snow. The ugly little man again
!” Rose Red pointed through the shrubs with a whisper.

“
Is he not the one, whose name the Bear must guess
?” Snow White wondered. Rose Red nodded in agreement.

Both girls approached the man, whose long bristly beard was again caught in the crevice of a yet another log. He struggled and strained to release himself, but to no avail. He was out of breath and sweating.