Novels by Lego MaEggo

“I hope you are right, Theia. I can’t help but feel uneasy when the majority of dreams I have are directly related to the violence of the monarchy.” Asteria sighs softly. “Violence I endured. Even worse, the violence I witnessed.”“That does not have to be our life. Not every Prince is evil.” Theia offers. “He did not choose his birth.” I offer, considering myself as well. “Witch and werewolf, that match is not accepted. I didn’t choose my birth either, so I struggle to damn someone on that fact alone.”“Ceres, do not lie to yourself. Even you know that the very foundation of the monarchy is dependent upon the suffering of people. Slavery. War. Famine. All necessary for the monarchy to survive.” Asteria declares like a professor from the lectern. “And somehow I am the savior of the world? I’m going to eliminate slavery and suffering? Get a grip, Asteria!”“No, no I am not delusional.”“You sound a bit delusional.” Theia quips. “We will not lead the masses away from systematic abuse

Some oaths cannot be broken. The thought tumbles in my mind. “It is true. The consequences can be dire when breaking a promise. An oath is sworn with your life.” Theia warns. “A witch is nothing without her word. Our whole existence is built upon the truth that words are powerful and have meaning. A covenant is an agreement, but an oath is a solemn promise. Breaking an oath is not a simple undertaking. The consequences of such actions can be catastrophic and change who you are entirely. To break an oath is a choice of darkness. Embracing the worst that this world has to give.” Asteria chimes in. “Last night, for me, was filled with dreams and nightmares. They don’t even all make sense to me at this point. A mix of my memories, and what I assume the two of you were seeing.” I say. I made an oath to the King, but I would break it in a heartbeat if I thought I could do it and continue to keep my head. Are oaths really oaths if you are under duress? Or is that simply fealty, a forced

I hear a soft rapping at my door. I tear myself from the sheets like a petulant child, stomping towards the doorway. The warmth of my bed calling to me. I don’t think I’m ready to be shoved into a bath and corseted into a gown. I feel as if I have not even shut my eyes, let alone gotten any rest. “I’m coming.” I say, in a decidedly grumpy voice. I put the most sincerest grumpy tired face expression that I can muster, and open the door. “What?” The hallway is empty. I cannot even hear distant footsteps of maids and servants performing their daily task list. A list that starts the moment their eyes open and does not end again until they close. The realization washes over me with shame. I think back to the endless hours, scrubbing dishes, scrubbing floors, standing over hot stoves. I looked to my arms to see all the faint scars I have accumulated over my years. Each one with their own story. The time I sliced my hand open or when I burnt myself on the edge of a pot because I wasn’t t

Your highness. I suppose it is better than being a slave, though your name is surrendered just the same. Instead of no one caring to know your name they are forbidden to speak it, it’s traded in for formal titles. This elevation does not bring freedom, rather luxurious chains, forced to follow antiquated traditions. It is not the same as being an actual slave though. To compare it as such is a denigration. A lie. One cannot be both slave and master, though it seems even masters have masters to bow to. The breakfast I consumed without having to perform any labor only underscores my place in the pecking order, now far above the one I used to enjoy. I struggle to enjoy my new position when Dmitry has been left behind. I should rest though. I am to be a bride today. The wedding is less about me and more about the future of the monarchy. The continuation of Malakai’s line through history. I am only the womb used to usher in this future greatness. The wedding itself is largely performat

“Breakfast is already in your chambers.” Phoebe reassures, her delicate hand still clasping mine. “Thank you, Priestess Phoebe. I appreciate your consideration.” We fall into a comfortable silence. The floors of the temple are cold on my naked feet, my soles made soft and delicate by the last month of wearing shoes. I am only steps away from being a Princess, living a fairytale and touring the Kingdom. I cannot help but feel tragedy lurking in the shadows. A beast so insidious, patiently waiting to strike at your most triumphant moment. The climb up the social ladder feels like a climb that ends with me jumping to my death. I breathe deeply and allow the sound of our swishing robes lull me into calmness. I am greeted by the smell of breakfast when the door to my room is opened. “Such a feast!” I squeal like an excited child. “Your eyes are bigger than your stomach.” Phoebe scolds. “Then join me, priestess. There is more than enough for us both.”“Thank you, m’lady.”The formalit

Ceres“Papa! Papa! I think I have something!” I squeak. My little body wiggling, unable to control the overwhelming excitement that has washed over me. My tiny childish hands reach for my father, precariously balancing in the small rowboat. “Shhh! Hush. You will scare away all the fish.” He says gently. His heavy hands lovingly placed on my shoulders, calming me instantly. “You have plenty of time to make waves in your life, you need not do it when we are trying to fish.” He gently scolds. “Yes, papa.”“Now, let’s check that line. Reel it in gently but steady, then flick to set the hook.” He demonstrates the process on his own rod. I begin to reel it in, quietly squealing with glee, pulling it in as my father had shown me many times before. Springtime on the lake, learning to live off the land. “You must be able to provide for yourself.” That is what my father would say when I would complain about waking before the sun. Early morning on the lake is what heaven must be like. The w