“Silk, satin, lace— oh yes! You MUST have lace, taffeta, chiffon, charmeuse, organza, tulle so much tulle! Oh we can do so much with what I’ve holed away all these years my girl!” Agatha gushed. We are tucked away in the corner of the sewing room with sketches strewn about the table and floor. It’s overwhelming. “Lace… ummmmm I—“ “Lace! Of course you will have lace! At least to cover your head for the temple ritual!” Agatha insisted. “I just want something simple. Not too complicated. Elegant and…” I was searching for a delicate way to tone down Agatha’s enthusiasm. “Oh you will be ELEGANT! Ravishing! Demure! You will be the talk of the moon ceremony. Nothing but the best for the Alpha’s daughter!” Agatha jubilantly decreed. Agatha has been at this estate as long as I remember. She served my father’s household before Osiris. She became a mother figure to me when he passed away. The next hour was filled with sketches of all sorts of dresses. Mermaid, trumpet, A-line,
“Malakai planned to hold the children of each alpha family of the realm hostage in exchange for each pack swearing fealty to him and proclaiming the Kingdom of the Moon pack the King and overall Alpha of the realm.” My father explained. The fire popped in dramatic timing. I gasped. The idea of being taken from papa and mother shook me to my core. “Th-that’s awful” I stammer barely above a whisper. “It was absolute panic. All the alphas awoke after the blood moon to discover their children had vanished. Each pack assembled hunting parties to search for the missing children. Malakai had taken the children into the deep cave system on the Kingdom of the Moon pack territory.” “Malakai then called a summit of all Alphas. It was held at the edge of our territory. Where the black woods meet the wheat fields at the northernmost tip.”My father had always warned against venturing too close to the black woods. The woods were so thick with trees and underbrush, it was shaded even on the most
“Professor says we have to sign up for the Harvest Fair by the end of the week.” Dmitry explained. “We have to enter at least one contest in order to get our participation grade.”“What contests will you be entering?” I asked as I prepared the vegetables for supper. Dmitry would tell me about his school day each afternoon as I made dinner for the staff and the Alpha’s family. This was the best part of my day. “I think my best chance is in wood crafts. I've been whittling a barn owl. His wings are outstretched and talons ready to snatch an unsuspecting field mouse.” “I can’t wait to see it!”“I definitely want to enter the pie eating contest. I’m sure I won’t win but losing never tasted so good!” He patted his belly in a fit of giggles. “I heard this year the pies will be made of carrots!” I said solemnly as I poked the carrot I was peeling in his direction. “Ha. Ha. You’re joking. That’s not true!”“Oh, but it is!” I counter dramatically. “The crust of the pie will be beets and c
“Come, let me see the dress on you,” Agatha coaxes. I had finished my needlecraft submission, traditional harvest dress. The Harvest Fair was a tradition older than the realm. It was a festival thanking the moon goddess for the harvest that sustains us. It was tradition to make offerings to the goddess, wear bright embroidered dresses, dance, play games, and feast. “I think I need help getting into this.” I grumbled. “Yes, the festival dresses are very form fitting.” Agatha sympathized. I had spent the last year embroidering the birds and wildflowers on the estate to appliqué them to my festival dress. I was saving what they looked like in my muscle memory, so even if I was far away after my moon ceremony I would still remember what they looked like. Agatha got me buttoned in. I stood looking in the mirror, not recognizing myself. “Ah!” Agatha gasped. “You’re so grown! If only your father were here to see the young lady you have blossomed into.” I smiled to stop the tears
Mari pulled my hair into an elegant updo and accented it with two small stuffed ruby-throated hummingbirds. There is a male with a pearlescent green body, ruby throat, black chin, and white belly. He is perched as if he is dancing in flight in my hair. The second is a female posed as if the two are engaged in a mating dance, perched above observing the males display. She is a more intense green bird with a stark white belly and what looked like kohl lining her eyes. My make up was done lightly. A glossy pink lip, a coquettish cat eye, and my soft sun kissed skin. A simple, gold silk cord, tied neatly around my neck. It was a bummer to have to wear such a fancy dress the the day of the fair. I had to limit my fun to make sure everything stayed in its place and the gown stayed pristine. “Let’s go. I know Dmitry ran off to the fair over an hour ago. I want to see his wood craft entry!” I protest. “Stay calm. Beauty requires patience.” Mari snapped. “The judge should be looking
The fair was in full swing by the time we arrived. I made a beeline for the wood craft tent to view Dmitry’s owl. Everyone that resides within the pack territory attends the fair. Each class with their own purpose. The alpha family attended as the host of the fair. The Alpha and Luna are the leaders of the community and set the tone for the fair. They attend all religious ceremonies as the image for piety. They give the largest donation to clergy. They wear rich and refined clothes that all the aristocracy and nobility will try and imitate. The people will either love to love or love to hate them. They will always fear them. The aristocrats and nobility did so to show that they mingle amongst the people and are pious in their tribute to the goddess. They prove their piety through donations to the church. The reverend mother will visit the noble houses after the fair to bestow blessings. They flaunt their wealth by their clothes and success in the contests. Some contests being more
I made my way towards the hall for the traditional dance. I could feel the vibrations from the drums pounding. The words of the songs floating above the drum beats praising the moon goddess and begging her for a love match mate. “What house?” A bored dance coordinator asked at the stage door. “Alpha Osiris.” I said with a flat tone. The coordinator handed me two silver bell anklets The bells are worn to add to the drum rhythm as you dance. “Turn around so that I can pin this number to your back.”“Be careful of my gown please, it’s to be judged at the feast this evening.” “You will dance to the Full Moon dance in group three.”It has been so long since I danced to this song. The drum beats steadily build to a crescendo and the singers declare devotion to the moon goddess. Your hands and arms telling a story as you spin and stomp to emphasize the beat. We make our way to the hall to perform for the gathered crowd. The crowd is mainly the aristocracy gathered at tables drinking win
“Congratulations!” Number forty-four said. “I’m Joy. I’ve never seen you before, what troupe do you dance with?” She looked at me puzzled. “Ceres.” I stuck out my hand. “I belong to Alpha Osiris’ house. I rarely have the chance to leave the estate.” Being a slave is a strange thing to tell other people. I don’t belong to anyone. I’m not a thing to be possessed. I am though. Even if it shouldn’t be the case it is. So I say I belong to the house to make it seem less degrading. “You dance beautifully. I danced in group one so I was able to watch most of the performers. I already know them from dance class and private parties though.” She shrugged. “But you. YOU I don’t know,” she giggled. “Where did you learn to dance?”I thought back to watching the dancers of every fair and festival held in the pack perched on my fathers knee, or when I was older proudly sat beside him. A front row to all the most talented dancers, singers, and instrumentalists in the pack playing and dancing their h
I understand the appeal of a fairytale. The maiden in the story always has some terribly tragic circumstance befall her; but, when it is most important her stunning beauty allows her to rise the ranks to become a princess. Her face card is her entrance to the club most have to be born into. Her beauty is too great to be mired in obscurity. Her time in the bowels of the beast only add to her appeal; later, her “humble” beginnings are trotted out to prove she is one of the people, too beautiful not to be elevated to her supreme status, but also still ordinary and “just like us”. In truth, most of the women married within this world come from it. Those tales too predictable and bland to be worthy of a fairytale, or perhaps, the truth doesn’t hit the same for the masses. They must believe that if they are also beautiful enough, they too can escape. Those escapes are few and far between, but here I am, one of them. I suppose my beauty and power are enough to elevate me from my place in the
“This.” I say as my fingers trace along the filigree. “This is magnificent.” I am in awe of the beauty of it. Diamonds all perfectly matched set in gold. Small crescent moons hide in the filigree, only clear with the moonstones set inside them. The crests of each pack of the realm are hidden and set with diamonds. I would have missed the detail had I not immediately recognized the crest on my own homeland. Perhaps that is the test of the Queen. Do I pick one of the pieces that more heavily represent Harvest Moon? Or perhaps my statement is gaudy wealth, I am sure many will expect that. When you claw yourselves out of the bowels, you tend to display your material achievements like a soldier’s medals. This one though, it tastefully pays homage to each pack of the realm. I am to be Princess of Fives, it is only right to represent all of them. “Take off the gown so that I can attach the sleeve, m’lady.” Monica orders, her attention focused on the work. I dutifully comply, standing
I look at the sparkling treasure before me. The amount of wealth is astonishing. Just one emerald and some diamond pins cost my mother bushels of food. I trace my finger along the delicate chain at my wrist. This bracelet as well. These jewels laid out before me like a pirate’s treasure, they make my mother’s jewels seem modest and trivial. The weight of the gold and platinum alone is an astonishing show of wealth. The lands of the realm are rich in resources, all part of the royal horde. “We can get you a different bracelet.” Monica offers, noticing my finger running along the golden thread. “No.” I say instantly, refraining from blurting out any explanation. “Very well, m’lady. Are you drawn to anything in particular?”I look into the mirror at my reflection. I am not sure I recognize myself. A witch. A wolf. An Alpha’s daughter. The girl from the kitchens. The slave of Harvest Moon. A bride. This is my metamorphosis. I am being reborn into the Kingdom of the Moon. Princess of F
The dress. “It is an homage to your homeland!” Monica says dramatically, her hands stretched outward to sell me on the gown. “Homage?” I say studying my reflection in the mirror. “Yes, it’s when you show honor or reverence—”“I’m aware of the definition.” I interrupt. We stand in silence. I stare at the reflection before me. I feel like a ball of silk and ribbon. My small frame is completely swallowed in expensive fabric. I’m not sure if I am wearing the gown or if it’s wearing me. “Are there any other options, perhaps something less…” I struggle to find a kind word. “Less?”“Of course.” She frowns at my rejection. “This is beautiful.” I say. “It is just too overwhelming for me.”Monica cracks a soft smile. “Of course. We have a whole tour to build your unique style. I will push, you will reign me in.”“Deal.”“I do have a lovely column gown.” She mutters as she shuffles through her rack of gowns, some finished, some still a work in progress. The silk looks as if it was poured
“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