She did not know it yet, but this woman's voice would chase her unceasingly through every lifetime no matter the age. Her tone and the blade at her throat said it was an order, not a request. If it weren't for the blade she would have simply scoffed at the notion, after all she was Queen here and none had the right to order her. But now she knelt dressed in all her finery with her hands bound behind her back before a golden haired beauty. There were others accompanying her, but the woman with the golden hair seemed the most vibrant of all of them.
Pale green eyes lifted from her skirts to look at her, though she could not bring herself to look the golden one in the eyes even now. The woman called herself Ke'mina, a name that meant 'Valor' in Sirani, the tongue of Ki'ryn's own people. Though by now she might be the only one left who could speak the language perfectly. A sickness had ripped through the kingdom striking down any it touched in a matter of weeks with no regard to age or state of health. Those who lived in close quarters were in the most danger, which meant the Sirani military was in no position to withstand an onslaught and defend its borders.
The people had prayed to their goddess for aid sure that it would come from their Queen who was the goddess' voice made flesh, but none came. It was because of Ki'ryn's inaction that they perished. Guilt had gnawed at her over it day and night since the first waves of deaths. Could she have saved them had she done something? Maybe, maybe not. Truth be told it did not matter anymore, Ki'ryn was dying from the same illness that had killed her people. She had known for weeks now and the illness was starting to take its toll. What remained of her kingdom would fall into barbarian hands after her death and Siran would cease to be. Snow would engulf everything they did not take and it all would be forgotten.
Ke'mina and the others had come last evening, demanding to speak with her despite her condition. Even if her health was growing frailer Ki'ryn still had her pride and that would not let her disappoint. She appeared on her throne in the audience hall dressed in a fine burgundy gown, covered by a fur cloak, dark brown and pale pink hair up in elaborate coiled braids with an ancient circlet resting on her brow. It was their conversation then that had brought her to the point she was now- completely at Ke'mina's mercy. She was so full of anger and sorrow that Ki'ryn could not understand.
There were no words in Sirani for what Ke'mina had done to her- she had been left on the floor of the throne room with her bonds cut and too weak to move. The pain transcended beyond every boundary, seeming to engrave itself on her ti'keeya - spirit. By the time the servants came to check on her Ke'mina and the others were gone and Ki'ryn was far closer to death than she had been. They managed to get the Queen into bed and nurse a little life back into her but it did not last. The illness progressed, taking its toll and eventually her life.
Even as she faded Ki'ryn could not forget the sound of Ki'mena's voice berating her for inaction and the threads of what Valor had done closed around her. Something told the Sirani queen she would be paying for it for a very long time to come. Mortals are not meant to bear the mourning of deities after all.
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I ascended the throne at a young age and as time passed I grew too comfortable as Siran prospered. The barbarians did not dare test our borders thanks to our military might, so the Sirani people were free to live and thrive without fear. Because of this I was not prepared when the threats came for us. I do not know where the plague came from, but there seemed to no way to stop it- the kingdom's healers could not come up with a cure. So it fell to my hands as the goddess' voice made flesh, but frozen in fear I could do nothing. The plague ripped through the Siran people- young, old, infirm, healthy...it did not matter. The close quarters insured the military was hit the hardest. This left the land vulnerable. They were almost all dead...and then she came.
