Royal Proclamation
Let today be declared a national holiday, for the birth of two princesses is to be celebrated with much gaiety and triumph. Let each man, woman, and child eat and drink their fill, for none shall be unhappy on this glorious day of all days.
They were beautiful. Queen Serena sighed in ecstasy as she gazed lovingly into the basket next to her. There were her babies, her little darling girls. She still couldn’t believe they were real; despite having carried them for the last nine months, she had to reach out and touch them every few minutes to be persuaded that they really were here in the world. The door opened quietly and Raoul stuck his head around the door, his eyes tired, and his beard not nearly as neat as usual. Serena placed her finger to her lips and motioned him inside, a silly grin on her face. He smiled adoringly at her, coming first to kiss her lightly on the forehead before moving to stand before the basinet.
“They are the most beautiful creatures in the whole world,” he breathed, reaching out a gentled finger to stroke a soft forehead.
Serena smiled to see strong Raoul so overcome with awe and gentleness. “We must decide on their names, dearest. I wish they’re naming ceremonies to occur as soon as possible for ‘tis bad luck to leave a baby unnamed for too long; the fairies might think they’re unwanted and steal them away, never to be heard of again.”
Raoul humored his wife her superstitions but held no stock in most of them; for what reason would the fairies have to take his precious darlings? Serena’s face clouded remembering, not for the first time in recent months, the bargain that Raoul knew nothing of. She would have to tell him at some point, for the castle must be barricaded.
“Well my dear, this fair beauty must be called Dawn,” he said gesturing to the red-head, “on account of her hair.”
Serena nodded in agreement, relishing the elegance in such a name. “What about the other precious?” she mused as Raoul stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“How about calling her Raven?”
Serena hesitated. “’Tis a fine name to be sure, but I just don’t see a great bird when I look into those violet pools, despite her raven curls; what about Maleficent?”
Now the queen had read child’s story long ago that mentioned the name Maleficent and she had taken a liking to the gothic pronouncement, not understanding the meaning behind such a name, she suggested it now to be the name of her daughter. Raoul, knowing no more than his wife with regard to the meaning of the name Maleficent, saw only the beauty and uniqueness his wife saw and he heartily agreed.
“Dawn and Maleficent, we’ll call her Mal for short of course, what beautiful names befitting such angelic baby princesses.”
Serena who had placidly taken up the needlework that lay next to her, felt a sudden chill when Raoul voiced the name Maleficent, a chill that coursed to her very bones.
“My king,” she began hesitantly. “There is something I must tell you, but I fear you shall be angry with me.”
Raoul moved away from the basinet and moved to stand next to his wife. “My dear, you have given me two beautiful daughters, there is naught that can make me angry with thee.” Serena flinched at the certainty in his voice, heartily wishing she could be confident in that.
“I’ve wanted to have children for so very long, and it seemed as if the gods had turned deaf ears to my pleas for solace.”
Raoul nodded knowledgably, remembering her fits of depression whenever one of her ladies had become pregnant or whenever she had seen a mother tending a unruly child.
“Nine months ago, I felt as if the world was ending when my courses came once again. The future was an endless pit of darkness and my heart felt to be compressed by an iron vice. There I sat at my window, pleading hopelessly with the bitter moon when she appeared, Queen of Fae.”
Raoul, who had been absently patting her arm, stiffened and tuned back into his wife’s tale. “Maeve showed herself here?”
“Yes, she stepped from shadow as easily as the moon from behind a cloud.”
“What was her purpose?” Raoul didn’t trust the faeries, with their magic and their malicious sense of humor. Serena cowered at the expression which hardened her husband’s kind eyes, but continued nonetheless.
“She had heard by supplications and claimed to have come to grant my dearest wish. She told me that she would give me two precious daughters, one with red hair, and one with black.”
Raoul raised an eyebrow. “The fae never offer anything without demanding something of value in return.”
The cloth she had been systematically stitching fell to Serena’s lap as she covered her face in her hands. Raoul put his arms around her shaking form and let her rest her head on his shoulder. “Now, tell me what happened, love.”
It was easier for Serena this way, she couldn’t see his face; this way she wouldn’t see his eyes darken with anger when she told him she had wished away his daughter to the Faerie Queen. “She told me she would give me daughters if…if…if I promised to give the dark-haired one to her to be raised by the faeries.”
Serena clutched her husband even as she felt him go rigid in her desperate arms. Raoul didn’t dislodge her from the embrace, but he no longer petted and cooed at her comfortingly. Serena tried to explain, her voice rising to hysterics even as her husband remained silent.
“She told me I would never have children without her gift! That I would be barren and lonely for the rest of my life! I couldn’t live with that, here was my chance, I was desperate! OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE?” Serena collapsed limply against her husband in a dead faint as the woken babies screamed shrilly.
The hired nurse maid came running, alarmed by the harsh racket. Upon seeing the queen in such a state, she froze in fright.
“Don’t just stand there!” the king snarled, trying to renew his wife to her senses. “Get them quiet!”
The maid moved obediently to the basinet and took each babe and placed one on each hip, bouncing gently to lull them back to sleep. She watched curiously as the king tried to revive his lady by bathing her forehead in cool water from the bowl next to the bed calling her name every so often, until he raised his bowed head and met her eye.
“Get them out of here!” he hissed through his teeth.
The maid hurriedly followed orders, laying each now cooing baby in the basinet before carefully carrying them out the door in the direction of her own room. Once the nosy maid was gone, Raoul shook his wife’s shoulder more vigilantly until one eye opened groggily. The king sighed in relief as Serena shook her head slightly and gingerly sat up with his help. Once she had regained sufficient control of her faculties to remember the situation, her eyes became those of a hunted animal caught in an open clearing with the hunter bearing down. Fearing a relapse of unconsciousness, Raoul spoke gently despite the urgency of the matter.
“Now dearest, what exactly did Maeve tell you.”
“Just what I’ve told you,” Serena said faintly. “She said she would give me two daughters but that I must bestow one on her to repay her for her help”
“Did she say when the baby must be relinquished?”
“N-n-no,” Serena replied thinking hard. “She never said when, just that she must be released into their care.”
Raoul stroked his beard, a plan formulating in his mind. “Well then, since we have no idea when they might come for her, we must have protections put in place immediately. I will have Sarita bring the babies back in here and then will have the guard post a twenty-four hour sentry outside the door to this apartment. Lock all your windows and don’t open them until we are sure that the danger looming is past.” He strode purposefully to the door, turning back momentarily to look at his drained wife. “We will not let them get away with stealing away our daughter from us, I promise.”
Serena was filled with awe at her husband’s apparent calmness and level head. Moments after his royal presence had left the room, the maid returned with a baby in each arm, her chest heaving with the unaccustomed exercise. Although still terrified of what the near future held, Serena reached out and took each bundle, feeling serenity sweep over her as she clasped them to her breast. She cooed delightedly to the cherubs for the next few hours, never growing tired of the flashes of unintended emotion that flitted across the faces of the two girls, be they awake or fully in the grasp of the dream world. When the sun’s mighty strength began to wane and the last rays struggled fiercely to uphold appearances outside Serena’s window, Serena had Sarita close the heavy velvet drapes, immediately plunging the room into murkiness. Candles were lit to alleviate the gloom and after Raoul had joined her once again, Serena called for music despite the fact that the twins were asleep in once more in their basinet. Husband and wife were crowded together on the bed, Serena lounging comfortably in the circle of Raoul’s arms, her head against his chest. When the summoned performer arrived, Serena heard the heavy tramp, signature to royal guardsmen, outside her door and she felt calmer than she had in the days since Maeve had come and struck her bargain. A sigh of relief escaped Serena’s lips and Raoul tugged her still closer.
“I love you,” she murmured as the lively fiddler began an intricate jig. Raoul squeezed her shoulder tenderly, but said nothing.
The dancers that had followed the fiddler into the room seemed to be tireless in their exertions, dancing one reel or jig after another, their feet positively flying. After an hour or two though, Raoul began to feel his wife’s exhaustion as she sank more deeply against him and fought to keep a yawn from breaking her polite smile and focused attention. He stroked her head fondly and caught the musician’s eye. Curtly he jerked his chin at the door. Being an intelligent man and recognizing the irritation in the king’s eye, the fiddler brought the music to a graceful yet swift conclusion. The dancers stopped moving, stumbling slightly at the abrupt termination of their set, but they quickly regained their composure and bowed to the monarchs before hurrying out the door. The fiddler was the last to leave and tipped his hat at his king and queen before tripping saucily out the door. Raoul gently removed himself from behind his wife, carefully laying her back in the soft pillows; her eyelids fluttered but Raoul closed each with a soft kiss before laying the down coverlet over her. In her sleep she murmured softly, but soon settled in her new position. Raoul walked carefully to the door, taking one last glance at his little family before stepping through the door. On the other side the guards were just changing shifts. All soldiers present stood at attention as the King passed, stopping to confer momentarily with the Captain of the Guard. After this dialogue he continued to his study where awaited him a comfortable chair, a warm fire, and a much-needed brandy.
All remained silent in the Queen’s bedchamber, the only sounds coming from the sleeping inhabitants. The room was pitch-black except for a sliver of moonlight which slipped through the stronghold of the heavy drapes. Shadows pooled mysteriously at the edges of the room, rippling gently as if disturbed ever so slightly by an unseen force. Not long after the last light had been extinguished outside the Queen’s door, a shape began to emerge from the darkness as if forming from the insubstantial shadows themselves. As the form became more distinct, the clever moonlight caught on a mass of wild, black curls and a silver hilt peeping from a leather boot. Meave stepped fully into the room, shaking off the last vestiges of concealment. Outfitted much as she had been the night she made her vow, the Faerie Queen drifted over to the basinet where the two babes lay nestled against one another in companionable sleep. Hesitating not a moment, she lifted the raven-haired child from its nest and wrapped it in her cloak. As the babe slept on in her arms, Meave looked down into the peaceful face and couldn’t help but smile, albeit somewhat mischievously. “You, my pretty, are destined for great things.” The Faerie Queen laughed softly and then covering the baby princess more precisely, dissolved into the blackness of the night once more.
