Requiem for a Princess: The prequel to Blood of your Blood

by Reza Ali

  “Let me show you something, but remember it is still me.”

  She sat up and pointed at her eyes. The prince looked deep into her alluring turquoise eyes and then he saw them light up like a sapphire in sunlight.

  “Huh!” His chair shrieked as he stumbled backwards.

  “Do not be afraid, My Prince; it is still just me.” She giggled at his reaction. That calmed him.

  “I am not afraid, just…” He shrugged in concession.

  She stood up and walked to him. Her confidence disarmed him. He rose to his feet and stood before her, his heart accelerating uncontrollably. When he looked into her eyes, he was mesmerised. She leant towards him and he grabbed her into his arms. Their heartbeats drummed like the sound of a thousand galloping horses; the cacophony of their racing hearts was felt by both. The thumping inside their chests were rapid, uncontrollable, but it slowly synchronised, coming closer together. Then it happened; their heartbeats converged, beating in complete synchronicity, beating together as one.

  She held onto him so tightly that her fingers dug deep into his surcoat. In his arms, she felt safe and uninhibited. Like the homeless found refuge in her sanctuary, her heart found refuge in his. She felt at that moment that there was no place in the world she would rather be than right there, in his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder; she smelt his scent as all vampires would do and it was the sweetest aroma. She closed her eyes and wished time would stop and allow this moment immortality.

  Around them, a swirl of mist appeared, spinning slowly into a vortex. Dark clouds gathered above them and lightning flashes lit up the area like fleeting bursts of daylight. The prince lifted his head to find her perfect turquoise eyes staring into his. He leant forward and kissed her; she kissed him back. Their lips remained in a soft entanglement of sheer bliss for some moments. A roar of thunder broke their serenity. The prince looked around at the swirling mist and surly dark clouds circling above them. He knew that the time had arrived for them to make a hasty exit, but he did not want to leave that wonderful moment. He could not find the words in him to break free of their intimacy, even if the rain pelted down and the lightning pounded above them; this was where he most wanted to be.

  The men brought the palanquin up to them and implored them to get inside. Finally, their unwavering embrace relented and the princess hurried into the palanquin’s open door. The prince followed her and the men carried them back down the hill. At the bottom, they inserted the wheels and untethered the horses. Soon, they were riding back, but the crown of rock that made up this hill had left them an irresistible invitation to return. An invitation they were powerless to refuse.

  That night, she dreamt more vividly than ever before. It felt like more than just a dream. She felt herself lying on her bed shuffling uncomfortably left, then right. Something seemed to trouble her greatly, something she could not comprehend. Suddenly, four women dressed in black cloaks that covered their faces appeared. Each woman sat at a corner of her bed, two on either side of her head and the two at her legs. Their pale, cadaverous hands crept over her skin; she felt them running up her arms and legs. They ripped her nightgown from her body; she pulled her legs together tightly and covered her breasts. She shivered in the cold, but, once, more their cold hands were upon her skin. Two hands brushed past her breasts from the top and another two hands made their way through her inner thigh, over her mound to her belly. All the hands met at her belly and rubbed over it. The women shouted strange incantations that the princess did not understand. The door to her room flew open like a whirlwind had passed through it. She crawled backwards in fear, trying to climb the carved oak headboard with the back of her hands.

  Through the door, a figure stepped into the room. It hovered through the air, wearing only a black cloak with a hood that covered its head. A sense of calm crept over her and she felt a strange reverence towards the figure; she even felt unfazed by her nakedness. The figure stood at her bedside, then slowly removed its hood. She was greeted by its molten eyes, burning like smouldering metal. The skin of the face was leathery and swathes of fire spat from scaly lips as it breathed. It looked at her belly and the women in black rubbed vigorously in response. The skin on her belly singed, burning red at that moment; the women in black responded by shouting their incantations faster and faster. Then they shouted in chorus, “Take his seed! Take his seed!”

  Nervousness consumed her. She vaulted off the bed, but something grabbed her hand and held it in a steely grasp. It felt like she had been tethered to a steel post and something burnt through her wrist. She pulled away as hard as she could, then screamed as loud as her lungs would allow. She sat up on her bed drenched in perspiration, panting to get her breath back. It was only a dream. She felt a searing pain around her left wrist; when she looked down upon it, her wrist was singed brown all around.

  She stayed away from everybody all through the day, but, when the second hour of eight arrived, the carriage was once more at the gate of her sanctuary. She had already readied herself as if she expected the prince to arrive. Once again, they stood atop the hill on the plain encircled by the crown of rock. They stood facing one another, holding hands, and looked into each other’s eyes.

  “Lady Evangeline, there is something I must tell you. I have thought about everything you told me yesterday, including your dark affliction, and I have arrived at a single conclusion.” He looked deep into her eyes as he spoke.

  “Tell me, My Prince.”

  “I love you. There is not another way to say this. I can tell you about how I cannot stop thinking of you. I can tell you that you invade my dreams every night. I can tell you that there are moments when I long to be next to you so much that I feel like I am suffocating. I can tell you all of those things, but it all leads back to that one thing. I love you, Lady Evangeline.”

  She smiled and leant towards his lips, and he kissed her softly. Once more, surly dark clouds gathered above them, then swirled into a vortex. His mouth lingered on her lips for some time before moving to her neck. Flashes of lightning fizzed about them, fleetingly igniting the dense cloud into incandescence. His hand followed the slick contours of her outer thigh and up her back to her neck, where it found his lips nuzzling her ear lobes. Lightning bolts crashed into the peaks of the needle spires, incinerating pieces of rock, which scattered about them. He moved his hand towards her chest and attempted to caress her breast, but her hand grasped his wrist tightly.

  “Not now!” she whispered.

  Almost immediately, as if by tacit command, the cloud vortex dissipated and the lightning storm disappeared. She wrapped her arms around him and they locked in an embrace for some moments. He never wanted this moment to end. He wished he could just linger upon the hill for as long as his heart desired, forgetting all the responsibilities he had to fulfil. He thought about his coronation, which was scheduled within the month. He was already promised to Lady Catherine of Aragon, but he didn’t love her. It was a promise he had made to his dying father, but he had not known Lady Evangeline then. How little he had known before she had arrived. He felt a tingle in his gut as he thought of his lady; he really loved her with all of his heart.

  * * *

  Princess Evangeline lay on her bed, filled with ambivalence. Her heart fluttered as she remembered the precious moment she had spent with her prince on the hill that night. She was also feeling great apprehension about the visitors who subjugated her dreams. She was certain that they would appear the moment she fell into a deep slumber. She was not wrong. That night, the four women in black strode into her room, shouting incantations around her bed. They seemed more agitated than the previous night. They once more went into chorus. “Take his seed! Take his seed!” they repeated incessantly.

  She gasped for breath, feeling a pervading anxiety as they ran continuously and shouted. Then one of the women stopped beside her and arched her back to face the princess, who shuffled uncomfortably. The woman removed the black hood from her face to reveal her glowing eyes and a f
ace of misshapen, raw flesh with patches of pale skin. Strands of twisted hair sprouted sporadically around her head.

  “Take his seed!” she shrieked, grabbing the princess’ arm, then they all disappeared, leaving behind a puff of mist.

  The princess tossed and turned, then woke drenched in perspiration. She gasped for breath again, sitting atop her bed under stained linen. Her hands were shaking as she lifted them to her head and mussed her hair.

  The next evening, she stood outside the gate at her sanctuary moments before the large bell bellowed through the town, heralding the arrival of the hour of change. Just as the sound of the large bell tapered away, the horses appeared, pulling the royal carriage. The prince stepped from the carriage and helped the princess on. Soon, they were galloping towards the hill, sitting beside each other in the carriage and holding hands whilst their foreheads lay resting against each other.

  Once again, they dined and talked and held hands. They locked in their embrace and kissed like star-struck lovers. Above them, the dark clouds gathered, just as they had the previous day. He moved his lips to her neck and lingered there for some time. His hands travelled around her back and over her thighs, then moved back up the same path. Again, he tried to move them to towards her breasts; again, his hand was stopped by a tight grasp on his wrist.

  “Not now!” she said again.

  The clouds dissipated and the lightning storm fizzled out, as had happened the previous day. She remained tightly ensconced in his arms, her wonderful heart beating in time with his. He felt himself surrendering to the moment; the weight of expectation that lay heaped upon his shoulders disappeared when she was in his arms. He found veritable peace, serenity incomparable to anything else he had ever encountered.

  “I told them I do not want to marry Catherine of Aragon. I want to marry you, to be with you for all my remaining days,” he told her as they held onto each other as if they were all that mattered.

  That night, the women in black hurried around her shouting their usual incantations. The princess did not feel afraid of them any longer; she felt them quite amusing, even in her dream. They appeared more agitated, aggressive, almost knocking things to the floor. Then they stood at her bedside, two of them on either end.

  “Take his seed!” they shouted in chorus.

  One of the women leapt onto her bed and grabbed her shoulders. “Take his seed!” she shouted at the princess.

  This time, the princess was afraid; they had never been harsh with her until that moment. The pale hand grasped her shoulder so tight it felt as if her skin would give way. As had happened the previous nights, she woke drenched in perspiration.

  * * *

  The hour of change found Princess Evangeline waiting at the gate of her sanctuary. This time, only the prince arrived, mounted on a tall black destrier. He lifted her up onto the horse; she sat in front of him. They rode off to the hill top and embraced as they had done all those days previously. The night was dark and the storm clouds gathered above them, swirling into a vortex. She looked at him with alluring eyes, a look he did not recognise from their previous interludes. She kissed him passionately and pulled him close against her. Then she stepped backwards a few feet. Her eyes lit up incandescent turquoise and her skin was tinged with an orange glow. Far from frightening the prince, this attracted him greatly. He felt his loins catch fire when he saw her. She slowly undid the buttons along her dress, then glided it off her, allowing it fall on the rock surface.

  “Now!” she said as her glowing eyes looked into his.

  A bolt of lightning struck the rock parapet and a flame took hold upon the top. It spread along the top of the parapet, creating a ring of fire that encircled them. The fire lifted high onto the rock spires and burnt bright and strong, giving the appearance of a flaming crown. The prince removed his clothing and walked toward her. Their unbridled passion made them oblivious to the events around them. She laid herself upon her dress on the ground and parted her legs invitingly. He went down on her to a roar of thunder in the background. Through the fire, a figure appeared behind them. It hovered slowly, then removed its black hood to reveal molten eyes. Its breath came in puffs of fire as it looked on.

  Chapter 5

  Princess of Dark

  “They say she is a witch, My Lord. Her beauty is dark and unworldly. She cast her spell on the prince and he is enamoured with her,” said Father Norman, a large man with plump cheeks and short brown hair.

  “He is promised to Lady Catherine, daughter of the late King Ferdinand, and our empire depends on alliances with strong nations. Her sister is Queen of Aragon and our alliances will be strengthened with the blood of family. I have interests with Spain that cannot be undermined by this foolish infatuation.” Lord Cromwell paced the area in front of his large bookcase, his thumb fondling his chin. He was a young and ambitious lawyer who consulted for the Vatican and a few wealthy lords.

  “This situation needs resolution. Is there evidence of witchcraft, Father Norman? If so, we can have her arrested and trialled. I will see to it that she faces the gallows,” said the Archbishop of York. He was a tall man, wearing a woven tunic of fine linen and a sash of variegated work made of fine linen as well as twined of violet, purple and scarlet yarn.

  “Proof may be gathered or made, as we have often done to rid ourselves of certain impurities,” answered Father Norman.

  “That is ill-advised. We must act swiftly and decisively; the power of outcome must be in our hands. If you arrest her, she will enter the judicial system; remember the king can overrule and pardon. If he is as besotted with her as is claimed, what do you think he will do when he hears of her incarceration? He will fight all the way and we will be powerless to intervene,” Lord Cromwell replied.

  “So what are you suggesting, Cromwell?” the archbishop asked, his eyebrows raised and eyes wide.

  “Instruct Father Norman to find three men, preferably who sell swords or mercenaries; let that be the end of this,” Lord Cromwell replied in a ‘business as usual’ tone.

  “Are you insane? The church will not condone such an act of violence. That is preposterous.” The archbishop glowered at Lord Cromwell.

  “The church does not have to know of this. Who is this woman? I have asked about her and nobody knows anything of her origins. I hear she is some foreign house wench; who cares? She disappears; the prince grieves and then gets on with his duties as king, without unwanted influence.” Lord Cromwell’s voice remained calm and businesslike.

  “You talk of killing as if it is just like running an errand. Where is your dignity, Cromwell? We must not act hastily – we must exercise patience in dealing with such matters.”

  “Archbishop, if, one day, God forbid, you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, what do you do? If you do not get on with the business immediately, she will not get any prettier. You cannot seek counsel to make her any better; just make peace with your poor judgement, do the dirty and put your pants back on. You do not have to look back and remember. As long as you have done what was necessary.”

  “Good God, Cromwell; you need prayer in your life. The Lord does forgive. I want no part in this abomination.”

  “You are a part of this, Archbishop. Your Lord can forgive me afterwards. Father Norman, find the mercenaries and pay them well. We cannot have their loose tongues mouth off about this to any other. I want her body burnt to ashes. No traces left behind; I want her gone, disappeared from the face of our land! Three men shall suffice.” Lord Cromwell now spoke authoritatively.

  “What of the rumours of her witchcraft?” Father Norman asked with wide eyes.

  “Take four men, then!”

  “But Lord Cromwell–”

  “I do not care for your superstitious nonsense. Get this done, clean and proper. Slit her throat and have her burnt. Then forget about everything.” He turned and left the room.

  * * *

  Princess Evangeline woke with an aching in her loins that lingered since the prince had left her earli
er that morning. It was a slight pain, a good pain; it reminded her of the wonderful pleasures she had indulged in. She felt strange about what had happened; although she had been consciously aware of everything, something had seemed to control her. It had been her first time and she was certain that she would have not given herself so easily even if she was so fond of the prince. She had no regrets, though; it had been a wonderful night and she smiled thinking of that. She had slept like a saint; there had been no strange dreams or visits from the women in black. The air was cold that morning, and she grabbed a long fur coat and pulled it tightly under her chin. She walked up to the window in her room and opened it. A burst of fresh air swept inside and swirled around. She took in a deep breath and felt a warm fuzziness fill her inside. It felt like a bolt of electricity, branching through her veins. There was only one thought on her mind; it was the prince. She closed her eyes and smiled, thinking of only him.

  * * *

  Just as the second hour of six crept in, the prince was at Princess Evangeline’s gate, once more alone upon his black destrier. She had not expected him that early, but, when she was alerted to his arrival, she ran out of her large sanctuary doors; ran to her prince. As he saw her in the distance, he dismounted and ran to her. They met somewhere in between and clung to each other as if their lives depended on it. He arched his neck to meet her lips perfectly.

  “I missed you so much; I could no longer bear it.” His large arms cradled her tightly.

  “I missed you too, My Prince. I longed for you today, just to have this exact moment,” she whispered, her heart pounding.