Ceria stood in front of the king, her outside exterior was a sight for equilibrium and calmness. Her head held high, her poster inspired awe as every princess should. On the inside however, she was so self-conscious she felt the hair on her arms stand on ends.
And the king, the bloody king, was sitting on her late father’s throne, legs sprawled in a lazy fashion ever so free spirited, his lopsided crown above his rowdy blond head made him look more of a thief toying with the crown jewels. He smirked wolfishly. His cold blue eyes observed her from top to toe, and he sank in the huge simply designed chair, awaiting her response. Except, Ceria gave none. She wasn’t even looking at him, she couldn’t.
“Oh dear me!” sighed the king amused. And stood up, taking his time descending the steps to her, one by one. She shifted her gaze from the grand dark green curtains over the two huge windows taking the majority of the wall behind the throne on each side, preferring to look at the ground. Every step he took unsettled her more. When he was on her same level he began circling her. The hunter and the pray.
“Lady Ceria.” How she hated her name on his tongue.
“Your highness?”
”I believe I asked you a question.” He stopped, leaning so close she could smell his intoxicating Jasmine perfume, and whispered in her left ear. “Isn’t it a crime to not answer your king?”
Ceria’s body prickled, the only sign to that was a quick flutter to her eyes.
“Your highness,” she managed some strength to her too soft feminine voice, “is aware of my answer to his question.”
The King stood in front of her, still too close to her liking, and to both property and protocol, “Which was?”
“I wish to serve my God.”
“You were serious then?”
“Yes.”
“You mean God has seriously called upon you?”
“Yes.”
“And when did this calling happened exactly?” he narrowed his eyes. “As I remember you were engaged to Prince Ferdinand of Garland for two year before the engagement was called off before the war.”
He just had to go there, Ceria thought, he had to insult me.
He gave a fake look of disappointment saying, “and here I thought you’ve learned your lesson being stung by the cowards of Garland and set your sight on a true man form the Red.”
“Adversity like the death of a loved one is enough to make us see the way.”
“Exactly,” he said quickly. “So it could only be a small side affect to grieve, not a true calling.”
Now she looked straight into his eyes. He should have died from the fire raging behind her brown eyes if it could just break free, take flight and engulf him. That fiend! How dare he?
He was looking down his nose at her with his hands clasped behind him, a bit taller than her brother. Ceria’s blood was boiling, “look away!” her mind reminded. “NOW!” She looked away.
“Give it time.” He continued. “It will wear off. This divine calling will seize to exist eventually.” He added the last part rather bored turning his head pretending to observe his surroundings.
“I want to get out of here.”She cried inside her head but she took advantage of his distraction to swallow. Then said.
“My lord contradicts himself.”
“hmm?”
“My lord asks for an immediate answer to his marriage proposal, yet says to give it time.”
“Oh!” he moved away from her finally and her body showed signs of relief. “I’m not contradicting myself.” Looking at her again. “Our marriage date has nothing to do with the time I’m talking about. Once we are married you will realize after a while that the temple’s life wasn’t what you wanted after all.”
Ceria smiled, faintly. She knew t will come to this.
“Surely my lord can spare this one princess her humble dream and find a far more worthy companion.”
“Ceria.” His voice, sight, face, demeanor were all even now, flat. “I’ve been quite patient with you so far, I even allowed this mourning dress to last all this time.”
Ceria’s eyes went wide, “the official period of mourning in Inland is..”
“Three months, I know!” he said loudly, cutting her off. “You don’t expect to marry in a black dress now do you?”
Ceria’s poster regained its previous royal air, casting her eyes away from him she spoke loud and clear. “As the princess of Inland I mourn my father the previous King and all those who fell in battle of my loyal subjects, and therefore cutting the dress code, in fact not prolonging it will be of great offense to me and to the families of the dead.” She sighed seeking self control. “As for his Highness’s proposal my answer has not changed, I wish to answer God’s calling and live a life of service as a nun in the Western Temple with my Aunt Loris.”
“You have one week!” he said so flatly as if all she said was child gibberish, “to get over this nun thing and prepare yourself to become my queen.” His vile words fell like bricks on Ceria’s head.
“Leave now.” He waved her away and returned to his thrown. Ceria curtsied to his back out of nothing more but habit, and walked the long hall so briskly, and it was all she could do not bolt in a run...and scream.
Ceria stood in front of the king, her outside exterior was a sight for equilibrium and calmness. Her head held high, her poster inspired awe as every princess should. On the inside however, she was so self-conscious she felt the hair on her arms stand on ends.
And the king, the bloody king, was sitting on her late father’s throne, legs sprawled in a lazy fashion ever so free spirited, his lopsided crown above his rowdy blond head made him look more of a thief toying with the crown jewels. He smirked wolfishly. His cold blue eyes observed her from top to toe, and he sank in the huge simply designed chair, awaiting her response. Except, Ceria gave none. She wasn’t even looking at him, she couldn’t.
“Oh dear me!” sighed the king amused. And stood up, taking his time descending the steps to her, one by one. She shifted her gaze from the grand dark green curtains over the two huge windows taking the majority of the wall behind the throne on each side, preferring to look at the ground. Every step he took unsettled her more. When he was on her same level he began circling her. The hunter and the pray.
“Lady Ceria.” How she hated her name on his tongue.
“Your highness?”
”I believe I asked you a question.” He stopped, leaning so close she could smell his intoxicating Jasmine perfume, and whispered in her left ear. “Isn’t it a crime to not answer your king?”
Ceria’s body prickled, the only sign to that was a quick flutter to her eyes.
“Your highness,” she managed some strength to her too soft feminine voice, “is aware of my answer to his question.”
The King stood in front of her, still too close to her liking, and to both property and protocol, “Which was?”
“I wish to serve my God.”
“You were serious then?”
“Yes.”
“You mean God has seriously called upon you?”
“Yes.”
“And when did this calling happened exactly?” he narrowed his eyes. “As I remember you were engaged to Prince Ferdinand of Garland for two year before the engagement was called off before the war.”
He just had to go there, Ceria thought, he had to insult me.
He gave a fake look of disappointment saying, “and here I thought you’ve learned your lesson being stung by the cowards of Garland and set your sight on a true man from the Red.”
“Adversity like the death of a loved one is enough to make us see the way.”
“Exactly,” he said quickly. “So it could only be a small side affect to grieve, not a true calling.”
Now she looked straight into his eyes. He should have died from the fire raging behind her brown eyes if it could just break free, take flight and engulf him. That fiend! How dare he?
He was looking down his nose at her with his hands clasped behind him, a bit taller than her brother. Ceria’s blood was boiling, “look away!” her mind reminded. “NOW!” She looked away.
“Give it time.” He continued. “It will wear off. This divine calling will seize to exist eventually.” He added the last part rather bored turning his head pretending to observe his surroundings.
“I want to get out of here.”She cried inside her head but she took advantage of his distraction to swallow. Then said.
“My lord contradicts himself.”
“hmm?”
“My lord asks for an immediate answer to his marriage proposal, yet says to give it time.”
“Oh!” he moved away from her finally and her body showed signs of relief. “I’m not contradicting myself.” Looking at her again. “Our marriage date has nothing to do with the time I’m talking about. Once we are married you will realize after a while that the temple’s life wasn’t what you wanted after all.”
Ceria smiled, faintly. She knew t will come to this.
“Surely my lord can spare this one princess her humble dream and find a far more worthy companion.”
“Ceria.” His voice, sight, face, demeanor were all even now, flat. “I’ve been quite patient with you so far, I even allowed this mourning dress to last all this time.”
Ceria’s eyes went wide, “the official period of mourning in Inland is..”
“Three months, I know!” he said loudly, cutting her off. “You don’t expect to marry in a black dress now do you?”
Ceria’s poster regained its previous royal air, casting her eyes away from him she spoke loud and clear. “As the princess of Inland I mourn my father the previous King and all those who fell in battle of my loyal subjects, and therefore cutting the dress code, in fact not prolonging it will be of great offense to me and to the families of the dead.” She sighed seeking self control. “As for his Highness’s proposal my answer has not changed, I wish to answer God’s calling and live a life of service as a nun in the Western Temple with my Aunt Loris.”
“You have one week!” he said so flatly as if all she said was child gibberish, “to get over this nun thing and prepare yourself to become my queen.” His vile words fell like bricks on Ceria’s head.
“Leave now.” He waved her away and returned to his thrown. Ceria curtsied to his back out of nothing more but habit, and walked the long hall so briskly, and it was all she could do not bolt in a run...and scream.
I was freezing. Sitting on the snow under a huge pine tree in my big olive green coat, my mittens, thick jeans and boots, the furred yellow hoodie tight around my face gave no chance for a side glance. Still I was freezing.
And there he was, Emery, my odd so called friend, a little down to my right, sitting crossed-legged and resting his elbows on his thighs. He was wearing a blue sleeveless t-shirt and black fitting pants with holes for the knees for cry out loud! His black hair fell like needles over his clear gray eyes. He was so pale and skinny staring ahead so quietly I’m sure the wild animals will mistake him for another fixed part of nature.
Right now looking at him made me feel colder and I didn’t like it one bit.
I began to shiver, rubbing my arms then my hands, scolding myself for the hundredth time for not taking those body heat management lessons in school.
I was afraid of talking less my saliva freezes but I had no other choice.
“So!” I asked between my chattering teeth. “Wh...what now?”
“Now we wait.”
“That’s it?”
He finally looked at me, a hint of confusion in his eyes. Does he even feel sorry for the ah-so-obviously cold little girl?
“I tell you what.”I made up my mind, scrambling to my feet, then quickly jogging in my place to warm myself a little. He slowly stood up looking at me, expectantly.
“We leave this mini-cam here,” I said jamming my hand inside my pocket, “it can watch the road while we return to our nice warm homeland.” I took out a pink beetle and positioned it on the palm of my hand, two seconds and it opened its wings and hovered a little. From my other pocket I pulled out my cell phone.
“Hey Tal!”
“Hey Siba!” my phone answered back in a happy little six year old girl’s voice, “I just released JJ to the world, can you please link to it?”
“Ay Ay Siba! Just a sec...aaand linking complete!”
“Thanks Tal I’ll take it from here.”
“Siba!” squeaked Tal.
I jumped.
“Ah! Why do you always...WHAT?”
“Is Emery with you?” I sighed, “yes Tal he’s with me.” I pointed the screen at his face and he waved, “Hi Emery!” Tal’s voice was almost awe struck, I rolled my eyes.
“Hi Tal!” answered Emery so politely it made me squirm.
“Bye Tal!” I said through my teeth directly to the speaker in the phone knowing she won’t respond with any more semi-human reactions to that tone.
I operated JJ to head for a high branch on the tree we’re standing under. Emery moved closer to look at the screen. “You know?” I said, “It escapes me why you’re always nice to machines and completely rude to people.”
“People are overrated,” he mumbled.
“Ya don’t say?” I mumbled back.
I tweaked a little with JJ’s vision until I got the angle I wanted.
“Bingo!” I put my phone back into my pocket, “now,” I said to Emery’s disinterested face “follow me.”
All around us the world was white. We were up a hill, on the outskirts of a forest and I wanted nothing but to flee this place, I descended rather quickly and tripped, “Ugh!”
I rolled my body to ready it for the humiliating fall all the way down. Emery was by my side in a second and straightened me up rather roughly by my right arm.
“Ah!” that’s gonna hurt later I thought, “thanks.”
Together we walked down till we got to a road, I crossed it towards an ice arch in the middle of nowhere. It was beautiful, quite different from the ones I’m used to see at home. The big arch was made of transparent ice, like glass, it starts narrow on the right then grows wider as it completes a shape of two thirds of a circle. A teleportation gate or a T.G as everyone calls it.
“Anything?” I asked him pointing to the right, he was already eye checking the end of the road, it showed no movement, a dead trail.
“Nothing.”
I stopped at the touch screen on the right side of the T.G.
“What?!” Emery was giving me the look.
“I still can’t believe they let kids do this.”
“That,” I said a matter of factly, “is what you get when you are a citizen of the greatest country in the world.”
“Show off.”
“Yeah.”
And begrudgingly I took out my mitten and spread my right palm on it, it glowed green.
“Define your destination!” a soothing female voice said.
I stood in the middle of the T.G with my companion on my left.
“Thirty, fifth D.”
“Confirmation required.”
“Confirm!” I shouted.
A strong yellow light covered the whole inside area of the T.G. There was this tingling feeling in my whole body, like an electric buzz then an elevation sensation, it all took 6 seconds and the light subsided gradually to a warm savanna land.
“Ah! Thank GOD!” I exclaimed, stepping out of the copper colored T.G and breathing in some fresh air. I remembered something,
“Hey, do I,” pulling my other mitten “do I look like a sunflower to you? You know” I draw a circle around my face with my finger, “the yellow fur and brown face and all?”
He looked down at me for a little longer than it is comfortable then narrowing his eyes he asked.
“Is this a trick question?”
“Um...no?”
“Well then yes.” he took his eyes off me, “you do look like a sunflower.”
I groaned pulling my hoodie down, my little sister will laugh at this for three days straight, if only I did not send her that selfie earlier. Stupid, stupid!
“I like sunflowers.” Emery said simply.
“Excuse me? Is that you being nice to people?” I smiled at him, a bit surprised. “I thought people were over rated.”
He shrugged.
The sun was setting into the far horizon in a beautiful scene that I rarely get to see in the city. In front of the T.G -that was decorated with vines and leaves made from the same metal- was a street that cut the vast land to two halves. Everywhere you look you find small poor bushes and Acacia trees dotting the whole area. Those weren’t great and tall trees like the pines but short and spreading their branches horizontally. It was their special way to survive the scorching sun during the day.
A small bench was located near the T.G. It was identical to it in design, copper colored with vines as hands. We sat on it, I took out my phone and together we watched the area we were just at on a completely different continent, snow was falling now.
“Ya Habibi!” I sighed, “If the image becomes hard to see we need to get back there or we’ll miss them.”
True I’m not all that keen on returning to that freezer so quickly but the mission was far more important than my temperature issues. Emery on the other hand wasn’t worried at all, spreading his arms on the back of the bench, slowly the sides of his mouth went up, until he completed a full smile that wrinkled the sides of his eyes, the first time I saw this expression I was certain my death will follow but here we are.
“No worries,” he said, “it won’t take long now.”
I lowered my eyes to the screen and the snow falling on the top of the hill. He’s expecting blood, but if I do my job well, inshallah, there won’t be any today.
The first time I met the red king he was a decent young man and did not yet turn into the monstrosity we know of today.
Back then he was the beloved prince of Gardenia, I met him on his way to The Shield. My horse tripped on a rock and injured his knee as I was heading back to my village, so I stopped to tend to it when the royal carriage, with a surprisingly small entourage, slowed nearby on the side of the road. The Red King got out immediately, against the instructions of his councilor who was riding with him, and I knew him in an instant. Those who’ve seen him before swore they haven’t seen anyone that handsome, enough to stop an army the legend went on and he sure lived to his legend. That of course in addition to his favorite color of choice, the red.
He was humble enough to speak to a commoner like me and was genuinely curious about my situation and how he could help. His eyes were dark and piercing that contrasted with his boyish face giving him an air of an older cunning man. But I thought nothing of it back then; after all he came from a long line of men with such unique eyes.
Once he realized I had a rather average grasp on politics, the boy went on to tell me of his plans, how he wanted to free us from the intrusions of The Shield. In a free spirit he spoke of his dreams of great prosperity and wealth to all of his subjects and he smiled with so much innocence when he knelt down to pick up daisies. I could have sworn there was no evil bone in him.
It has been years since I last told this story. Who would believe me now anyway? I mean, The Red king is no longer acquainted with Red as a choice of clothing. I’ve heard many people believe that he was oblivious to the reason he was summoned to the Shield’s court but I never bought it. How that strange visit was so low key. How he looked at the daisies as if they were the most precious of things, even talking to me, a man of no weight in his world, telling me about his precious plans. I can’t help but affirm that he knew he was walking into a trap, a prison. And there, unlike he disclosed to me, he single handedly offered the entirety of Gardenia to the enemy.
We had no time to hate him or curse him and call him a traitor, for soon the news reached us that the Red King murdered Scott of Ironclad, King of The Shield. And he took over, became ruler of both countries and turned crazed with the lust of power and greed. And as much as his looks were good his massive magical powers were destructive. After years of a rein of tyranny and red blood, The Red King disappeared. Today it is said that he roams the earth looking like a vagabond in tattered scarlets and a lopsided crown, consumed with vengeance and hate, leaving a line of ruin and death in his wake.
No one dares to mention his name now except in hushed voices and with great fear. And I reckon I’m the only one who’s still alive to tell of the boy with piercing eyes who loved daisies. Perhaps it is also the only sign left of his humanity when in rare moments, those who observe him from afar and live to tell about it, see him kneel and smile at a daisy that escaped his powers. Shame, shame! But what would you expect when one follows the road of black magic?
By Haneen Ibrahim
Happy Billboard hot 100 win with Dynamite fellow ARMYs!
