The Wolf Queen's Prophecy

Confessions of the Luna Queen

Lyria blinked her eyes open to find herself in the stately golden carriage Wallace had given her as a wedding present. Aertis was hunched over her, looking concerned.

“No lunch, then, I take it?” Lyria said, sitting up slightly and with more bravado than she felt. Her head spun as the memory of the afternoon rushed back. Subconsciously, she clutched a hand to her stomach as she thought about the words of the Mystic Major.

Aertis didn’t miss the gesture. “Something to tell me?” she asked. “A child in need of protection, perhaps?”

Lyria nodded, almost begrudging. She had wanted to share the news with Aertis, but under happier circumstances. 

“I’m pregnant,” she admitted. “I was hoping to tell the King during the Gathering Dark festivities.”

“At dawn?” Aertis asked, nodding. Dawn was the time of secrets and confessions, a tribute to the Goddess’s birth. Just as the Goddess was laid bare before the void out of which she created the world, so too did friends and lovers share whispered thoughts they would shy from admitting at any other time. There was also an exchanging of gifts, the last gesture of the celebration before all finally retired to their beds.

“That is the plan,” Lyria said. “But now I worry that something is coming that will threaten my child,” she added, cradling her womb and drawing her arm even closer to her stomach.

“How far along are you?” Aertis asked.

“Not quite three months, yet, still early.”

“That is good, for it means less people likely know. You aren’t showing? Not even to your chambermaids when you dress?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Lyria replied. 

“Then worry not. No one can plot against a child they do not know exists,” Aertis said. A worry line appeared between her eyes, despite her attempts at a casual tone. “But Lyria,” she added, taking the Luna Queen’s hands in her own, “this is excellent news. A child! A little Prince or Princess.” She beamed, the worry in her eyes receding for a moment as she imagined a tiny version of Lyria running about in fine frocks. For a moment, the two shared a vision of a tiny babe with Lyria’s hair or the King’s eyes.

“I know,” Lyria replied, a smile rushing to her mouth. “I am thrilled. I know the King worries, and how could he not, with his history… Madelyn’s fate still lingers in his mind…” The King’s first wife had died giving birth to their child, Prince Wyatt. “But I am not worried, I believe the Goddess will protect me.”

“Forget the Goddess,” Aertis breathed, “I will never allow any harm to come to you or to the child.”

Lyria laughed. She reached over to hug Aertis. “I know,” she replied. “I am so excited to tell the King, he has been teasing me of late that my cravings have been pronounced. Little does he know…” she smiled. “I was hoping to get your help with telling him, in fact. But do you think I should tell him early? The Mystic Major…?”

Aertis looked thoughtful. After a moment, she shook her head. The carriage jolted to a stop just then, and Lyria sat up fully, trying to look poised as the castle guards peered inside to confirm that she was the passenger. As the carriage was waved inside the gates and the horses began to trot gaily toward the castle, Aertis continued. “As I said, no one can plot against a child unknown. If it would soothe your soul to tell him early, then do it. But I don’t think there can be much harm in waiting a few days, do you?”

Lyria considered her friend’s words. “True,” she said. “And it is true that no one is like to know I am with child, as long as you can keep a secret.” Her eyes sparkled, teasing Aertis, who was known for her stoic loyalty.

The carriage stopped before the castle doors, and a Royal guard appeared to assist them out of it and onto the ground. Aertis took his hand gratefully, alighting before Lyria. 

“Your Highness,” the guard said as he extended a hand to the Luna Queen. She took his hand in her own and daintily stepped onto the grass, looking up at the castle she now called home. In many ways, it had not changed at all since the first time she had seen it. To one side was the Hall of the Goddess, attached to the rest of the castle by a bridge on the second floor. The Hall of the Goddess was a rarely used building only for celebrations like Gathering Dark, when the castle was opened to the entire city for festivities and worship. The tall, circular turrets at the top of the main structure of the castle still stared down imposingly upon visitors, but Lyria had come to find comfort in the massiveness of it. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could just barely see the Keeping of the Shrine where the King had prayed the Mourning Prayer and learned that she was his mate. She could scarcely look at the building without a small smile playing on her lips. 

One major change was the massive double doors which stood open for Lyria now. Before, they had been made of weathered, dark wood which was inscribed with the King’s crest intertwined with Luna Queen Madelyn’s motto. Now, fresh new doors made of fragrant cedarwood bearing Lyria’s insignia and the King’s crest greeted all who approached.

Lyria crossed the threshold with Aertis at her side. The entryway to the castle was still adorned with tapestries and statues of Mother Time. Yet there was a lightness to the castle that had not been there before. Lyria was too modest to attribute it to her presence, but the servants often did. They whispered that the King had never been happier, and a happy King led to a happy castle. 

“I am hungry,” Lyria said, “given we skipped our luncheon plans,” she added. “To the kitchen?”

Aertis nodded. They turned left, toward the kitchens that they had once spent sleepless nights sneaking through, embroiled in dangerous mysteries and fearing for their lives. Now, in the light of day and with the crown of the Luna Queen on Lyria’s head, the kitchen was far less frightful.

The servants bustled about happily. Standing at the large hearthfire and cooking something in a massive pot was Ruthalie, the head cook.

“Luna Queen Lyria,” barked Ruthalie, who always spoke in a voice more gruff than her pretty and small demeanor suggested. She bowed, and the rest of the kitchen staff followed suit, muttering, “Your Highness,” and “My Lady,” to Lyria to Aertis. 

“Ruthalie,” Lyria replied with a smile. “What are you cooking? It smells divine.”

“I’m preparing a stew for the evening,” the cook said. “Here, taste,” she added, holding a large spoon out to Lyria and Aertis, who each took a small mouthful.

“You delight me more each time I visit, Ruthalie,” Aertis said, smacking her lips with enthusiasm.

Lyria responded with equal enthusiasm, nodding happily as she licked her lips. “I don’t suppose we can convince you to part with some of it early so that we can have it for lunch?” The stew was meaty and rich, but somehow also had a sweet edge to it, the flavor complex and hearty. It made Lyria feel restored just to have a taste of it.

Ruthalie laughed. “Sit, sit,” she said. “I’ll pour ye each some wine and prepare two bowls. But I do not wish to hear that you are sick of it when it is served again tonight,” she added, waving a spoon threateningly as she ushered the two wolves toward a trestle table in the middle of the kitchen.

“Never,” Lyria said with a giggle. Other kitchen servants bustled around her as she took her seat. Most gave her a wide berth, keeping their eyes respectfully on the floor. Lyria had implored the servants to treat her less formally, but old habits were hard to break and many servants were not used to a Luna Queen who had herself come from humble origins. Ruthalie had taken well to the command to treat Lyria as, if not an equal, at least with less formality than prior Luna Queens had maintained.

Lyria was happy that she now recognized most of the servants who rushed to and fro, and knew their names. She had taken great care to learn the lives of those who worked in her employ. King Wallace knew all of his staff, but it was easier for him, since he had been born and raised in the very same walls.

“What are you thinking about?” Aertis asked, watching Lyria.

“Oh, just thinking that some day,” she gave Aertis a knowing look, but spoke guardedly, “some day it will be nice that my children will grow up playing and learning and living here,” Lyria sighed with contentment. “Wallace always speaks so fondly of his upbringing and the adventures that castle life can provide.”

“Didn’t he once get stuck in a chimney hiding from his tutor and nearly get roasted by the flames an Omega lit to warm the room?”

“Well… I didn’t say I wanted our children to recreate all of his childhood experiences,” Lyria said with a laugh. “Although he was never in that much danger… his body blocked so much of the chimney that it sent black smoke billowing back out into the room! The Omega knew something was wrong right away.”

“Oh, yes,” Aertis rolled her eyes, “that makes it better.”

From a corner, Lyria heard a little snicker. Turning, she saw that it came from a mousy looking servant girl wearing a tunic that was several sizes too small. Lyria frowned, realizing she had never seen the girl before. She was young, with pale blonde hair and piercingly dark eyes.

“What is your name?” Lyria asked. The young girl jumped at being addressed, then bowed deeply. 

“Sorah, Your Majesty,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” The girl hesitated. “I just couldn’t help but overhear, and the picture of the King stuck in a chimney was amusing.”

Lyria noticed that the girl, Sorah, had a strange accent. It was almost that of a citizen of Cyrrillest, yet something about it was slightly off. She couldn’t place what.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she replied. “My father was from just down the road, born and raised in Cyrrillest, but after I was born he and my mother struck out as traveling merchants. I came back to the capital to seek my own fortune not long ago.”

“I see,” Lyria said, surveying her. “Your tunic doesn’t fit,” she added.

“No,” Sorah said, looking slightly ashamed. “They didn’t have any in my size that were clean, you see. The head laundress–”

“Wera?” interjected Lyria.

Sorah nodded hesitatingly, “yes. She said to come back in a few days time. I was going to check today, in fact.”

“See that you do,” Lyria commanded. “And you can tell Wera that the Luna Queen said it is urgent. We will have visitors streaming in from all across the country, even a few visitors from other Kingdoms. I want everyone looking their best when people begin to arrive in the next few days.”

“You mean for Gathering Dark?”

“Yes,” Lyria replied.

“I have never seen a Gathering Dark festivity,” Sorah said, with a look of excitement. “Not a proper one, at least.”

Lyria laughed. “It is my favorite of the celebrations. If you’d like, you can join my household for the festival. Just see to it that you obtain a proper outfit. I’ll send word to Caldien.” The Royal servant who had once welcomed Lyria to castle as a scared, unsure Warrior and suitress for the King’s heart was now in charge of the castle operations. “Just a temporary movement from the kitchen assignment, you understand, but it will get you a somewhat better view of the plays, and you’ll be first in line of the servants to the feast.”

Sorah bowed again. “Thank you, thank you so much!” she exclaimed. “I’ll go see about a fitted tunic now,” she added, and she scurried off.

Aertis took a sip of wine. “I see you’re still doing that,” she teased.

“Doing what?”

“Offering everyone you meet some boon or gift,” Aertis replied.

“You think I should stop?”

“Not at all,” Aertis said. “Your generosity is one of my favorite things about you. I worried that a life as a Royal would change you. I’m glad to see it hasn’t.”

“Life in the castle hasn’t changed me, at least I hope it hasn’t.” Lyria gave a little laugh. She touched a few fingers to her belly, low near her womb, and said, “Now we must hope that no other challenges life has in store change me!”

Aertis grinned wolfishly over her bowl of stew, which was already nearly empty. “Some things are much scarier than life as the Luna Queen,” she said with a wink.