There was nothing she could do, now. Too many people had borne witness to the the wailing of two children instead of the single piercing cry that had been expected.
She handed the still squirming children to the lady-in-waiting. The woman wrinkled her nose in distaste.
"Can't you…" she whispered making a snapping motion with her neck.
"No, my lady."
Even if they were bad luck, she wouldn't have their blood on her hands. She'd leave that to someone else, if it was to be carried out.
"Perhaps while they were still in womb I could have done something. But my oath…"
"Yes yes." The woman waved her hand dismissively, having already deposited the children into the arms of a waiting servant.
"Well then." She gave a small bow and took her leave. As soon as the door closed behind her, she heard a shrill scream.
Someone must have told the queen.
She walked down the hallways and felt desperation clawing at the corners, its tentacles crawling between the carefully mortered stones of the castle. The news had travelled fast.
It was little wonder, really; every noble must have had a paid spy waiting outside the birthing chamber. Even she, plain as she was, understood that you had to start fast with the monarchy. Deciding who you would betray was an important decision, and one that started the moment a royal child took breath.
But now, the careful dance of betrayal and intrigue had been interrupted, replaced instead by a dangerous foreboding. The birth of two children signified not the rise a noble group, but the fall of a country.
She couldn't help but muse at the will of the gods as she watched the white and gold banners that had been so carefully hung being torn down as she neared the entrance of the castle. They lay in snowy heaps on the floor, the only hint of their intended glory in the small silken fragments that had caught on the rough pieces of stone wall.
For this was intended to be a fortuitous day; one touched by the gods themselves. It was the holy day, the day each year that they celebrated the birth of their country. The idea that a prince was to be born on such a day had been seen as a divine promise for great prosperity throughout the land. But to deliver not one, but two princes, seemed to foretell a different kind of fate. One that would split the country in two and watch the once proud people of Valeria fall through the gaping chasm.
Instead of rising, they would be swallowed up, lost in the fickle hands of time. She, her people, her country, they would all become nothing more than a memory, this single day the cornerstone by which all future peoples would remember them.
There would be no tales of the wars they won, or of the songs they once sang. Instead, they would become nothing more than a footnote, an entire nation neatly summarized by a single date and the words, "Death Day of Valeria."
Footnote
--------------------------------------------------
There was nothing she could do, now. Too many people had borne witness to the the wailing of two children instead of the single piercing cry that had been expected.
She handed the still squirming children to the lady-in-waiting. The woman wrinkled her nose in distaste.
"Can't you…" she whispered making a snapping motion with her neck.
"No, my lady."
Even if they were bad luck, she wouldn't have their blood on her hands. She'd leave that to someone else, if it was to be carried out.
"Perhaps while they were still in womb I could have done something. But my oath…"
"Yes yes." The woman waved her hand dismissively, having already deposited the children into the arms of a waiting servant.
"Well then." She gave a small bow and took her leave. As soon as the door closed behind her, she heard a shrill scream.
Someone must have told the queen.
She walked down the hallways and felt desperation clawing at the corners, its tentacles crawling between the carefully mortered stones of the castle. The news had travelled fast.
It was little wonder, really; every noble must have had a paid spy waiting outside the birthing chamber. Even she, plain as she was, understood that you had to start fast with the monarchy. Deciding who you would betray was an important decision, and one that started the moment a royal child took breath.
But now, the careful dance of betrayal and intrigue had been interrupted, replaced instead by a dangerous foreboding. The birth of two children signified not the rise a noble group, but the fall of a country.
She couldn't help but muse at the will of the gods as she watched the white and gold banners that had been so carefully hung being torn down as she neared the entrance of the castle. They lay in snowy heaps on the floor, the only hint of their intended glory in the small silken fragments that had caught on the rough pieces of stone wall.
For this was intended to be a fortuitous day; one touched by the gods themselves. It was the holy day, the day each year that they celebrated the birth of their country. The idea that a prince was to be born on such a day had been seen as a divine promise for great prosperity throughout the land. But to deliver not one, but two princes, seemed to foretell a different kind of fate. One that would split the country in two and watch the once proud people of Valeria fall through the gaping chasm.
Instead of rising, they would be swallowed up, lost in the fickle hands of time. She, her people, her country, they would all become nothing more than a memory, this single day the cornerstone by which all future peoples would remember them.
There would be no tales of the wars they won, or of the songs they once sang. Instead, they would become nothing more than a footnote, an entire nation neatly summarized by a single date and the words, "Death Day of Valeria."