A/N Get ready for a history lesson! I tried to make it as interesting as possible :)
Later that night, after the light has been drained from the sky, I am in the parlor reading. I haven't read the novel in about two years, when it was published. As I read its familiar words I am overcome with a sense of nostalgia. It's slim and titled The Legend of the Seven. It is quiet in the parlor, and I read long into the night.
Many years ago, there was a prophecy. There were to be seven women sent from the stars to save the inhabitants of Laeris. They would repair the damage from all the wars won and lost. The words of the prophecy have been passed down through generations, and there are many varieties. But one thing is for certain: the prophecy is true.
I remember when it was announced that the Twin Queens of Antoine, Rosaline and Astra, were two of the Seven. The only ones we’ve found. All of Laeris watched as the sisters grew until eighteen, when they stopped aging. I believe they are now around twenty-five, and yet have not changed since their eighteenth birthday.
I continue reading.
Our world was quite accepting of the idea of the Seven. Who doesn't want to be saved? However, over the years, rumors came to light. These rumors said that the Seven were goddesses, and that in addition to being able to save our world, they had the power to destroy it.
Some people thought that the prophecy had been misinterpreted. They thought that the Seven would not save us, but destroy Laeris to prevent our destruction from spreading elsewhere.
Their supposed divinity aside, each member of the Seven possess an ability. One is capable of saving people from the brink of death. Another can go back in time without any reality-bending consequences. Others can control the four natural elements, or cause ground-quakes powerful enough to tear Laeris apart from the inside out.
And one known as the Architect can manipulate an object's very molecular structure. She could turn glass into steel, and sand into salt. Her telekinesis and molecular manipulation allow her to build a variety of structures with her mind. In ancient prospective myths, the Architect rose cities out of the ashes of our world.
The final two are known as the Harvester and the Fortune-Teller. They are named Rosaline and Astra, respectively, and are the only of the Seven that have been discovered since the prophecy. They currently rule over Antoine, as the Twin Queens.
The Harvester can manipulate the ground to grow whatever she wishes. The Fortune Teller is the most powerful of the Seven. She commands her legion of stars and can align constellations. With her abilities, she can control destiny and fate itself.
I went to their coronation when I was very young. Rosaline's flowers were everywhere. They looked more than beautiful. They were otherworldly. Ethereal.
In other ancient myths, it was said that the Harvester could manipulate light and would instruct the sun on when to rise and set. The Fortune-Teller, however, was the opposite. She raised the moon at night and created every shadow on our world, bringing contrast to the Harvester’s light. And while she is the most powerful member of the Seven, the Harvester is, without a doubt, her second in command.
While it is true that the members of the Seven are immortal, when all have been discovered, they will perform a ceremony. No one knows the exact details, but after the ceremony is completed, the Seven will be made ageless instead of their previously immortal state. They can die, but they must be killed through illness, murder, etc.
"You should go to bed soon," I hear Eliza say.
I look up and see her on the stairs. I've always known she was beautiful, but even in the shadows of the staircase, she shines brighter than any star.
"You're probably right. We have quite a day ahead of us."
I put the book away, and follow her up the stairs. Entering my room, I collapse on my bed. Tomorrow we will visit the rebel's bunker, and I am beyond nervous. I can only hope that I make a good impression.
+++
Eliza visits me in my dreams that night. It's not the first time, admittedly, and it won't be the last.
I'm back home, outside the palace. She sits on a stone bench, her back to mine. It’s night, with a large full moon. The moonlight bounces off her hair, and she's in her blue dress. The one she was wearing when I first met her.
"What will you do about Frederick?" she asks, her voice strained and layered with something that I can’t place. She must have heard me behind her.
"I haven’t thought about it," I admit.
"It would be helpful," she says, still not turning around, "to have him here."
I walk around the bench to face her, and almost don't recognize her. She looks straight ahead, staring into nothing at all. Her bright demeanor is gone, her happiness replaced by distress, her smile replaced by tears that trickle down her cheeks before finally falling onto her dress.
"What happened?"
"I heard him talking to my mother. About you. He's going to ask the king for your hand."
"I—"
"Would you say yes?" she interrupts.
I look on in bewilderment. "I—I don't know."
"You have to choose. The clock is ticking," she warns.
"Choose between what?"
"I think you already know."
And with that, I wake up, my strange dream leaving me with a feeling of confusion, foreboding, and extreme sadness.
+++
As it turns out, I did not wake up by choice. I blink the sleep out of my eyes to find Eliza standing over me, holding a garment bag, and making no attempt to quiet herself.
"Are you ready for something wonderfully modern?" she asks, quoting herself, and for once I do not want to see her. It’s far too early for this.
"What time is it?" I groan.
"It’s time to get up."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"The sooner you get up, the sooner we can go," she says, still not answering my question.
"Fine," I say, sitting up from the bed, fully awake purely from annoyance.
She unzips the bag to reveal a light pink blouse, covered in delicate lace.
"Beautiful, as always, but where’s the rest?"
She replies with a smile, before unveiling a pair of pants in a light lilac color. I've never worn pants before, or rather, I’ve never been allowed pants before.
"Oh, my parents would hate this," I say delightedly, taking the bag.
"I don't doubt it. But your parents aren't here." She winks at me.
"Very true. Now, get out of here while I change.” I pause and then continue with a smirk. “Unless—”
She interrupts me with a gasp. “Your Imperial Highness!” she says with exaggerated shock, and promptly leaves the room.
Normally, I would require help from her, but these clothes would likely be harder to put on with assistance. I slip them on, the pants feeling strangely and wonderfully snug compared to the gowns I am accustomed to. The blouse looks oddly structured over my corset, and I debate taking the godforsaken thing off entirely, but decide against that. Corsets are great at hiding things, you know.
I open the door to find Eliza standing outside. She gives a wide smile at the audacity of my outfit. “You look fantastic.”
“Ah—thank you.” I feel flustered all of a sudden, and my cheeks warm, but luckily Eliza quickly glosses over that.
"I also made us some flower crowns this morning." She motioned for me to follow her, and she leads me into the room where she fixed my hair yesterday. On the vanity, I spot the crowns. The fresh green leaves pair the small, delicate white flowers perfectly. "They're not practical, and honestly kind of silly, but I thought they would be fun."
“You’ve outdone yourself,” I say, lightly grazing the flowers with the tips of my fingers. They’re aromatic, a sweet smell that’s soft and lovely and so perfectly Eliza.
"I'll do your hair for you. Up or down?" she asks, grabbing the hairbrush, and most likely already knowing the answer.
"Down, please."
"Of course."
She brushes my hair in a way that makes my hair full of light, effortless waves, and then pins my hair perfectly in place. When she's done, Eliza gently places the crown of flowers in my hair.
"I have to go get dressed, but I'll meet you downstairs. Wear your black ballet flats today."
I nod and leave to go get the ballet flats. After slipping them on, I walk downstairs to the kitchen.
"Looking good, your Imperial Highness," I hear when I enter the kitchen. Two of the guards are sitting at the table, something that would get them executed in the palace, and I recognize one of them as Kaylen.
"Thank you. Are you hungry?" I ask them.
"Always!" They say in unison.
I decide to make french toast, and no one complains. I’m thankful for the secret cooking lessons one of my old nurses gave me. My mother would’ve skinned her alive had she known, but by then I knew enough not to tell her. When Eliza walks into the kitchen, she says simply, “I must be in heaven, because nothing else could smell this good.”
Her dress is simple but elegant. It's royal blue and knee-length, and cinched at the waist with a belt. Atop her gentle red waves of hair sits her flower crown, and she looks as if she was born to wear it.
"You should wear a crown more often," I tell her.
"I do look good in them, don't I?" Yes, Eliza. You do.
+++
After we've eaten breakfast, we take the wagon from the train to the other three farms. We gather the required information, my level of nervousness getting higher and higher. Once we finish, we go to the location of the rebel base, on a farm owned by the Erin Family. We greet Mrs. Erin, a kindly and wholly unexpected gatekeeper to the base.
When we ask about what they produce, Mrs. Erin leads us outside to the cellar. As she opens the door and we begin our descent down the stairs, I hear her whisper, “good luck,” before she closes the doors, plunging us into darkness.
Later that night, after the light has been drained from the sky, I am in the parlor reading. I haven't read the novel in about two years, when it was published. As I read its familiar words I am overcome with a sense of nostalgia. It's slim and titled The Legend of the Seven. It is quiet in the parlor, and I read long into the night.
Many years ago, there was a prophecy. There were to be seven women sent from the stars to save the inhabitants of Laeris. They would repair the damage from all the wars won and lost. The words of the prophecy have been passed down through generations, and there are many varieties. But one thing is for certain: the prophecy is true.
I remember when it was announced that the Twin Queens of Antoine, Rosaline and Astra, were two of the Seven. The only ones we’ve found. All of Laeris watched as the sisters grew until eighteen, when they stopped aging. I believe they are now around twenty-five, and yet have not changed since their eighteenth birthday.
I continue reading.
Our world was quite accepting of the idea of the Seven. Who doesn't want to be saved? However, over the years, rumors came to light. These rumors said that the Seven were goddesses, and that in addition to being able to save our world, they had the power to destroy it.
Some people thought that the prophecy had been misinterpreted. They thought that the Seven would not save us, but destroy Laeris to prevent our destruction from spreading elsewhere.
Their supposed divinity aside, each member of the Seven possess an ability. One is capable of saving people from the brink of death. Another can go back in time without any reality-bending consequences. Others can control the four natural elements, or cause ground-quakes powerful enough to tear Laeris apart from the inside out.
And one known as the Architect can manipulate an object's very molecular structure. She could turn glass into steel, and sand into salt. Her telekinesis and molecular manipulation allow her to build a variety of structures with her mind. In ancient prospective myths, the Architect rose cities out of the ashes of our world.
The final two are known as the Harvester and the Fortune-Teller. They are named Rosaline and Astra, respectively, and are the only of the Seven that have been discovered since the prophecy. They currently rule over Antoine, as the Twin Queens.
The Harvester can manipulate the ground to grow whatever she wishes. The Fortune Teller is the most powerful of the Seven. She commands her legion of stars and can align constellations. With her abilities, she can control destiny and fate itself.
I went to their coronation when I was very young. Rosaline's flowers were everywhere. They looked more than beautiful. They were otherworldly. Ethereal.
In other ancient myths, it was said that the Harvester could manipulate light and would instruct the sun on when to rise and set. The Fortune-Teller, however, was the opposite. She raised the moon at night and created every shadow on our world, bringing contrast to the Harvester’s light. And while she is the most powerful member of the Seven, the Harvester is, without a doubt, her second in command.
While it is true that the members of the Seven are immortal, when all have been discovered, they will perform a ceremony. No one knows the exact details, but after the ceremony is completed, the Seven will be made ageless instead of their previously immortal state. They can die, but they must be killed through illness, murder, etc.
"You should go to bed soon," I hear Eliza say.
I look up and see her on the stairs. I've always known she was beautiful, but even in the shadows of the staircase, she shines brighter than any star.
"You're probably right. We have quite a day ahead of us."
I put the book away, and follow her up the stairs. Entering my room, I collapse on my bed. Tomorrow we will visit the rebel's bunker, and I am beyond nervous. I can only hope that I make a good impression.
+++
Eliza visits me in my dreams that night. It's not the first time, admittedly, and it won't be the last.
I'm back home, outside the palace. She sits on a stone bench, her back to mine. It’s night, with a large full moon. The moonlight bounces off her hair, and she's in her blue dress. The one she was wearing when I first met her.
"What will you do about Frederick?" she asks, her voice strained and layered with something that I can’t place. She must have heard me behind her.
"I haven’t thought about it," I admit.
"It would be helpful," she says, still not turning around, "to have him here."
I walk around the bench to face her, and almost don't recognize her. She looks straight ahead, staring into nothing at all. Her bright demeanor is gone, her happiness replaced by distress, her smile replaced by tears that trickle down her cheeks before finally falling onto her dress.
"What happened?"
"I heard him talking to my mother. About you. He's going to ask the king for your hand."
"I—"
"Would you say yes?" she interrupts.
I look on in bewilderment. "I—I don't know."
"You have to choose. The clock is ticking," she warns.
"Choose between what?"
"I think you already know."
And with that, I wake up, my strange dream leaving me with a feeling of confusion, foreboding, and extreme sadness.
+++
As it turns out, I did not wake up by choice. I blink the sleep out of my eyes to find Eliza standing over me, holding a garment bag, and making no attempt to quiet herself.
"Are you ready for something wonderfully modern?" she asks, quoting herself, and for once I do not want to see her. It’s far too early for this.
"What time is it?" I groan.
"It’s time to get up."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"The sooner you get up, the sooner we can go," she says, still not answering my question.
"Fine," I say, sitting up from the bed, fully awake purely from annoyance.
She unzips the bag to reveal a light pink blouse, covered in delicate lace.
"Beautiful, as always, but where’s the rest?"
She replies with a smile, before unveiling a pair of pants in a light lilac color. I've never worn pants before, or rather, I’ve never been allowed pants before.
"Oh, my parents would hate this," I say delightedly, taking the bag.
"I don't doubt it. But your parents aren't here." She winks at me.
"Very true. Now, get out of here while I change.” I pause and then continue with a smirk. “Unless—”
She interrupts me with a gasp. “Your Imperial Highness!” she says with exaggerated shock, and promptly leaves the room.
Normally, I would require help from her, but these clothes would likely be harder to put on with assistance. I slip them on, the pants feeling strangely and wonderfully snug compared to the gowns I am accustomed to. The blouse looks oddly structured over my corset, and I debate taking the godforsaken thing off entirely, but decide against that. Corsets are great at hiding things, you know.
I open the door to find Eliza standing outside. She gives a wide smile at the audacity of my outfit. “You look fantastic.”
“Ah—thank you.” I feel flustered all of a sudden, and my cheeks warm, but luckily Eliza quickly glosses over that.
"I also made us some flower crowns this morning." She motioned for me to follow her, and she leads me into the room where she fixed my hair yesterday. On the vanity, I spot the crowns. The fresh green leaves pair the small, delicate white flowers perfectly. "They're not practical, and honestly kind of silly, but I thought they would be fun."
“You’ve outdone yourself,” I say, lightly grazing the flowers with the tips of my fingers. They’re aromatic, a sweet smell that’s soft and lovely and so perfectly Eliza.
"I'll do your hair for you. Up or down?" she asks, grabbing the hairbrush, and most likely already knowing the answer.
"Down, please."
"Of course."
She brushes my hair in a way that makes my hair full of light, effortless waves, and then pins my hair perfectly in place. When she's done, Eliza gently places the crown of flowers in my hair.
"I have to go get dressed, but I'll meet you downstairs. Wear your black ballet flats today."
I nod and leave to go get the ballet flats. After slipping them on, I walk downstairs to the kitchen.
"Looking good, your Imperial Highness," I hear when I enter the kitchen. Two of the guards are sitting at the table, something that would get them executed in the palace, and I recognize one of them as Kaylen.
"Thank you. Are you hungry?" I ask them.
"Always!" They say in unison.
I decide to make french toast, and no one complains. I’m thankful for the secret cooking lessons one of my old nurses gave me. My mother would’ve skinned her alive had she known, but by then I knew enough not to tell her. When Eliza walks into the kitchen, she says simply, “I must be in heaven, because nothing else could smell this good.”
Her dress is simple but elegant. It's royal blue and knee-length, and cinched at the waist with a belt. Atop her gentle red waves of hair sits her flower crown, and she looks as if she was born to wear it.
"You should wear a crown more often," I tell her.
"I do look good in them, don't I?"
Yes, Eliza. You do.
+++
After we've eaten breakfast, we take the wagon from the train to the other three farms. We gather the required information, my level of nervousness getting higher and higher. Once we finish, we go to the location of the rebel base, on a farm owned by the Erin Family. We greet Mrs. Erin, a kindly and wholly unexpected gatekeeper to the base.
When we ask about what they produce, Mrs. Erin leads us outside to the cellar. As she opens the door and we begin our descent down the stairs, I hear her whisper, “good luck,” before she closes the doors, plunging us into darkness.