Dark Throne, The

by Raven Willow-Wood

  She was independent, always had been and probably always would be… that is, if she didn't grow too accustomed to being cosseted in this manner.

  While she'd reveled in taking care of herself and relying on no man to do it for her, that had held far more importance in New York and Pennsylvania than it did here.

  Strange how the habits of a lifetime, something that had formed over the entirety of her existence, were being challenged by the presence of this extraordinary man.

  She needed no one to fight her battles. Back in High School, she'd been the head of the Debate team. Christ, could she argue. No one could ever whoop her ass. But here, she was quite willing to let Fade fight her battles. Especially, as where her mother was concerned, she seemed to possess no protective instincts. It had taken the entirety of her stay to force her into speaking the truth to Setta. And even then, simply because her mother had touched upon a sore subject.

  Had she not mentioned weight, then Heather believed she would have just accepted and took more of Setta's bullshit.

  Why?

  She didn't know.

  Perhaps because she was on different territory here. And by that, she didn't mean a parallel universe.

  At this moment, in this castle, she was with parents she'd long believed to be dead.

  That would have unsettled even the most hardened of people.

  Psychologically, she was in a transient state of disbelief, something which was slowly warring with the acceptance that her mother and father actually lived.

  And adding another dimension to the mixture as well as a completely different race… well, hell, Heather thought she was coping just fine.

  She hadn't shrieked or screamed once at the different types of Elfen that walked about the castle. And there were some weird ones.

  Ten feet tall knights with flowing pea-green hair. Plump serving maids with breasts, of the exposed variety, the size of small dogs. Christ, they made porn stars GG boobs look small.

  Heather had accepted the weirdness of her existence with, she thought, dignified aplomb.

  In a way, she wondered if May had done something… set the stones for her to accept this weird world of hers. It seemed to be the only explanation of why she accepted all of this so easily.

  And she had fitted in remarkably well. Every now and then, she'd spot something that would make her eyes widen or her mouth gape, only for her to force her features back into a semblance of normalcy within seconds. She'd pose the questions to Fade and did so in secrecy so as not to offend whatever or whoever had freaked her out.

  Although the people were pretty good. They knew her circumstances and if she happened to stare at them a little too long, they’d simply bow and nod their heads in understanding.

  She wondered how much her subconscious could recall from childhood and how much that had eased her path. She’d never once thought about it on Earth, but something was making this crazy shit easy to accept.

  Mearth itself wasn't too peculiar. Things were remarkably similar to Earth. There were beds with duvets, chairs with padding, and fields with crops… Sure, the names of things changed and the crops were weird in comparison to Earth flora, but still, nothing too bad.

  Being a princess was rather nice. She didn't have to clean the toilet, which was called a lavske here. If she ever wanted to eat, she pressed a panel on a wall. She only had to worry about what her mother was up to. Her father had decided not to pressure her into making any public visits. Something for which she was grateful. Every few days or so, she'd make an appearance in the ‘court’ but she glued herself to Fade's side and so, was spared any of the gossiping.

  Every day, people gathered in court from just after lunch for few hours. An hour on Mearth lasted sixty-five minutes and a day consisted of twenty-two hours. Another aspect that made it easy to conform to this new world.

  Her mother and father sat atop their thrones as nobles and gentry wandered about the ludicrously opulent chamber. The Mearthen equivalent of gold, not the color but the expensive precious metal, was something called dinger. A horrible name for something so precious, but she had no say in the roots of the Elfen tongue. Dinger decorated the walls of the room and was present in the furniture. Her parents' thrones seemed to be made of nothing but.

  Fade had told her once that Jender sat upon some of the richest dinger deposits on Mearth, just another reason for the neighboring states to be envious and to covet the country.

  She hated the times that she had to spend in court but knew it was something she'd simply have to accustom herself to. When she lived in Haden, she'd have to undertake the same ritual in her own court.

  The thought made her grimace. Being a princess was nice, life was easy. Especially as little was asked of her at the moment and she could spend her days simply wandering about the palace, studying the riches and watching the people, her people, as they went about their daily business.

  Being a queen, on the other hand, was another kettle of fish and one she didn't entirely look forward to.

  There was something very pre-revolutionary France about the entire situation. Upon their thrones, she couldn't help but compare her parents to Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI. Not that they were mean Kings and Queens or ignorant of the very lowest peons, Fade had told her Jender was one of the happiest nations on Mearth. It was simply such an antique way of living.

  And that she would have to embrace it, well… it didn't really settle well with her.

  It was like living in a history lesson. And she’d flunked history more times than she could count.

  Thoughts of her mother had her returning to the room and with a bang. Of late, these periods of blanking out weren't uncommon.

  Only yesterday, during the Mearthen equivalent to lunch, she'd had another. Her mother had squeaked about it, squawked at her father until the palace physician had come and checked her over. Part of the transition period of reverting from her pre-pubescent Elfen form into a fully mature adult, he’d said. And as she returned to the moment, she realized that both her mate's and her mother's concerned eyes were upon her.

  It had brought the argument to an end. Something she wasn't sure she wanted. Hell, this situation needed to change. Now. Because something had to give and it wouldn't be her.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, voice weary.

  Fade's arm tightened about her and he pressed a kiss to her temple.

  “The doctor said this was just a temporary problem, didn't he?” Setta's tone was panicked and Heather saw a sliver of the love her mother felt for her and winced at the sight.

  How could love, a positive emotion, have such negativity spouting out of the woman's mouth?

  “Yes. While her ear lobes have fully developed, her insides haven’t fully matured.”

  “Why does that cause these blank moments? Surely she should have… I don't know… growing pains? Physical aches, I'd understand, but mental?”

  He shook his head. “The medic was not concerned. While Heather's situation is unusual and out of his medical expertise, he simply said that psychological changes can be more damaging than the physical. As such, her mind is still maturing to this new world.”

  The doctor had also said that frequent exposure to Fade's seed had ensured an almost seamless transitional period.

  The man had actually prescribed more sex.

  She'd never felt so bloody mortified in her life. The doctor had more hair sprouting out of his ears than on his head and that wasn’t because of his age… it was his natural form. A big nose had had the Mearthen equivalent to glasses perched on them, huge goofy looking things that held none of the natural grace of the usual fashions she’d seen around court.

  This odd-looking man had stared quite seriously at the pair of them and said, “Yes, indeed. I would recommend more spurting, your highnesses. Such exposure to his highness’ semen has ensured that her highness is suffering less trauma than I would have suspected. Frequent bouts of rumpy pumpy, yes, that’s the ticket. Like rearbids.” He’d
nodded as though he hadn’t just told them to get to fucking like rabbits, something she’d only understood when Fade had explained what a rearbid was.

  Setta sighed and the sound shook with her anxiety.

  God, her mother was a puzzle. How could she care so much and then act in a way that was almost guaranteed to either upset, offend or annoy her daughter?

  “Look, this isn't the point. I'm fine. I told you I was fine yesterday. I don't space out, it's more like I go into my thoughts. That's all. I'm not schizophrenic or anything like that.”

  “Schizophrenic?” Setta glanced at Fade who shook his head.

  Growling under her breath at the lack of translation for this word, Heather explained, “On Earth, there are people who don't have control of their thoughts. There are two different personalities living in just the one brain. When they black out, it's when another personality has taken control. Look, it isn't important. I'm just saying that I'm not a psycho. That's all.” Mouth tightening at another shared look of confusion, she clarified, “I'm not crazy. Or deranged. Okay?”

  “Of course not.” Fade bussed her temple again.

  Able to sense that he felt little concern over these periods, believing them to be a natural part of the process her body was undergoing, eased her irritation somewhat. He wasn't saying that just to console her. He meant it. Setta did feel concern, but Heather had the feeling that Setta would overreact if she came down with a cold.

  This weird need to control stemmed from the fact that she'd been denied her daughter and for the child's lifetime. It seemed as though she was trying to cram twenty-odd years of parenting into too-short a time and wasn’t succeeding.

  “I just… I… Setta, please, realize that you can't keep on at me the way you are. I can't stand any more. You're upsetting me and I don't want that. I really wanted to have a relationship with you. As a child, I think I would have done just about anything to have the chance of knowing you. But you're spoiling it. And I know father talked to you about this. I hoped that would be enough but you're worse than ever.”

  She hesitated, certain that her next words would inflame Fade into a hot rage, but at the same time, knowing these words needed to be said. “You gripe at me about everything. From the way I look to the way I act but today was just the final straw. Commenting on my weight was just the end. I told you that I almost died from being too thin and I wasn't lying. That was real.

  “I spent about four years of my adolescence being shuttled back and forth to doctors and psychologists' office. May did everything she could to get me back on track. Hell, I know she had to do without to pay for all of these things. Life… just existing is expensive back on Earth. Healthcare costs a fortune.

  “I've heard enough lectures from my psychologist to know that poor self-esteem can cause a return to old patterns of behavior. And I refuse to let myself be bullied by you into a state of mind that will revert me to my old ways. I fought long and hard to get back to normal. And I won't let you undo all that work, alright?”

  Setta's bottom lip wobbled, but she nodded.

  Her silence shocked Heather. She'd expected another declaration that being the Queen meant she didn't have to hear some hard truths.

  She watched as tears welled in her mother's eyes, but refused to feel guilt. Even though it made its presence known, when Setta scuttled out of the room. Head bowed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Heather grimaced and then gasped, as her eyes caught on a huge tear that ran from her hip to mid-thigh. How she'd managed to do that, was anybody's guess. “You're not supposed to see me in my wedding dress. It's bad luck.”

  Despite the grimness blanketing the room, Fade grinned. “Only you could say such a thing at a time like this.”

  “It's the truth. Now go away.”

  “As if I would do that. I felt your hurt, my mate. I'm not leaving you until a smile is fixed firmly on your face.” He shook his head. “At any rate, that custom is not practiced on Mearth. Many brides and grooms have their gowns tailored for them by the same seamstresses. The colors tend to coordinate at Elfen weddings.”

  She peered up at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Are you lying to me?”

  Amusement returned to his features, lightening the usual somber cast of his faces. “No. Why would I need to? Ask your…” He grimaced. “Ask one of the women, who attend your mother. They can confirm my words, untrusting wench.”

  She pouted. “Still. My dress should be a surprise.”

  “By the state of it, dearling, I very much doubt that will be the dress you wear on the day itself. Unless you plan to wed yourself to me looking like a pauper?”

  “It’s all the fashion on Earth,” she retorted and saw him roll his eyes. Knowing he'd believed her, she hid a grin.

  “Then if you must appear with rips and tears, at least let them be in strategic places.”

  Unsure of what he meant, she looked down and grinned. Her panties were on display thanks to some of the rips.

  “Thank you,” she murmured on a sigh and turned into his arms, so that her front rested against his. Pressing her forehead against his chest, she couldn't help but take a moment to inhale his scent and revel in the pure essence that was Fade. With her hands brushing his back, around the waist, her fingers nudged at his wings. Their soft velvetiness sent goose bumps shuddering over her body. His wings did something to her. She wasn't sure what, but they always had something indescribable fluttering through her body.

  She found herself touching them on a frequent basis, simply because of her sensory reaction to them and the gentle whisper of the feathers against her skin. As such, he'd rapidly grown accustomed to being touched there. At first, he'd flinched or frozen. In his mind, his subconscious, he still viewed his wings as things to hate. A part of his body that had caused him to be ostracized. But now, she knew, he was rapidly starting to enjoy her reaction to them.

  “What for?” he replied, arching a little into her touch.

  His wardrobe fascinated her. The backs of his upper wear had all been cut away to accommodate his wings. As such, there was a slither of flesh, beneath the base of his wings, where the knotted muscles sat. Before she replied, her hands sought that nook and she pressed her smiling mouth against his chest as he shuddered. “For being here. For coming when I needed you.”

  “It was my pleasure, mate. Any excuse to be with you. You know that.”

  She gently massaged the muscles and whispered, “I feel the same way.”

  His mouth brushed against the top of her head. “Was it true what you said to her? About almost dying?”

  There was horror in his voice and she warmed inside. Even knowing how important she was to him, it still came as a surprise to be made aware of it. “Yes. I just stopped eating for a while.”

  “You do realize that I'm going to watch everything you eat now, don't you?”

  There was a slight warning there and she knew it and accepted it. He would merely be taking Aunt May's role. It warmed her unbearably. She’d managed to control her skewed brain for the last eight or so years and with Fade at her side, doubted she’d ever be besieged by the same devastating thought processes that had seen her fall to ninety pounds soaking wet. “I'll expect cookies by the dozen.”

  He grunted. “What are they?”

  “Like cakes. Aunt May started baking to try to encourage me to eat. It worked. She'd never been that much of a cook. She was an artist, so she only used to eat when she was hungry and I used to make myself something to eat. She didn't notice, when I stopped eating. I think she felt guilty so afterwards, she'd make me really naughty cakes and pastries.”

  “An artist?” he asked, surprised.

  “Yes. She was really good. Whenever she sold a painting, they commanded quite a high price. But they used to take an age for her to complete. It was why we were never exactly affluent.”

  “Well, I've never been much of a cook.”

  She laughed. “Well, having an army in the kitchen wouldn't exactly encour
age you to be active in the kitchen, would it?”

  “No. The most I've cooked is shooting some game and roasting it over a campfire. Nothing fancy. But I'll think of something to encourage you to enjoy eating.”

  She arched her back so that she could tilt her head and look at him. “I don't have a problem anymore, Fade. Not really. Setta said the dress wasn't sitting on me well, so made the demand that I lose weight. I just told her the way it is. I don't think I'll ever feel so low that I'll get to that state again, so you don't have to worry.”

  “As if that will ever happen.”

  She grinned with pleasure at the sincere words and nuzzled her cheek against his throat and reveled in being with the man who filled her heart to bursting.

  The moment Henrik spotted his wife, he knew there’d been another altercation and sighed with weariness. He was too old to be dealing with these spats, but at the same time, there was a part of him that enjoyed them. Both Setta and himself had missed out on the usual adolescent melodramas and the joys of a child’s first step into adulthood. It made him feel like a parent, a father for real. It also made him feel every one of his years.

  There was however, a time and a place to these altercations. And in the middle of the day, with advisors toing and froing in his office, he didn’t want to be dealing with the juvenile arguments that his wife tended to bring to him.

  He couldn’t deny that he’d never seen her like this. It perplexed him and saddened him. Her character possessed a cool control that ordinarily, made her standoffish. In this situation, she was so out of her depth that she was clinging to their daughter and trying to control her.

  It was a most distressing time, because he knew from Setta’s behavior, that they were going to lose Heather before they even had the chance to have her.

  Behind his desk, he watched as Setta strode in but rather than complain about the myriad things she had taken to discussing where Heather was concerned, she took a seat before his desk and simply sat in silence.