RISE: To move from a lower to a higher position or place; ascend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let me tell you story about a ruler. A ruler that was strong and powerful and wicked and callous. A ruler that was feared by all, yet feared no-one. A ruler that could have been wonderful if only life had been wonderful to her, but as fate had fallen across her path it had been cruel and unkind so love and compassion, if they had ever been learned, were hidden away and long forgotten about.
If you stay and listen I shall tell you how she became cruel and how she rose to power and then I shall tell you how she fell. I will not tell this story in her favour nor shall I paint her tale in a darker shade than was true. I shall simply tell it how I saw it and how I heard it.
You may wonder why I want to tell you this tale and the answer is simply to set the story straight. I tell you to let you know that she was treated badly, not just those who should have protected her or those who should have admired and respected her, but by the one who loved her.
I know her story, and I know it well, because I was her confidant, her friend and her lover. I was with her everyday and it was my role to please her for I was her Jester and in the end it was I who betrayed her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her story begins 28 years before her death, when there was no moon in the night sky. The story is words stolen from her own lips.
It begins with her birth.
The labour was long and the mother was weak and after birthing a defenceless, innocent, healthy baby girl she held her in her arms and named her Arriala and then she closed her eyes and simply died.
Unfortunately for Arriala she was born in a kingdom built on tradition and superstition, a dangerous mix at the best of times, and a baby who kills their mother in childbirth is labeled unlucky, untouchable, tainted. It goes without saying that such a child would not be graciously accepted into the community and being born on a dark night, with no moon in the sky only deepened the villagers suspicions of this new life. It was agreed that this child was no good. Harvest time was soon and village could not allow anything that would not bode good fortune inside the town walls, so, not only a full day old, the child and her family were banished beyond the walls, left to fend for themselves.
Just once fate delivered a kind hand to this small child and it was in the form of her grandmother. She took the child in and raised her in a cottage in the middle of the woods. Arriala's father despised the child for killing his wife, thus rendering them outcasts. One night he had become drunk, which was not unusual, and beat his child for the last time. She was five years old at the time. Had her grandmother not intervened Arriala would not have lived to see six. He left that night and never retuned. Arriala never knew if he was still alive and chose not to return, or if he had perished somewhere unknown. She didn't care either way.
The girls grandmother brought her up the best she could. She was taught how to count and read and write. She learnt how to cook and clean and sew. She was educated in what food and herbs were safe and how to make medicines and tonics. One thing she was never taught was how to fight.
Arriala had seen how nasty people could be. After all, she had spent fourteen years of her life being taunted by other children and ignored and shunned by every adult that was not her grandmother. So, yes, she saw how people could be cruel but she had never seen how they could be evil.
She soon found out.
It happened late one afternoon, during the rule of King Zakarus, when the King and two of his men were travelling to Hayenville for the harvesting celebrations. They were still a days ride away but dark clouds had blotted the sunlight from the sky and rain started to fall, fast and heavy just as they came across the cottage that housed Arriala and her grandmother.
Now keep in mind, that the King or Queen that has been chosen is meant to be kind and honourable, respecting their subjects, but sometimes power can blacken the soul, twisting what was once good into something evil and malignant and this was the case for Zakarus. What the king wanted, he took. Even if he didn't want it he still took it, deeming it his royal right to have anything that was before him, so when he saw Arriala, young and innocent and very timid, he decided that he wanted her.
Arriala's grandmother told the King that she was not his for the taking for she had heard the stories of the king and how he took young girls, used them and then threw them away, but she would not have it for her granddaughter, who had already suffered so much.
In response to her defence for her granddaughter and her defiance towards the King she had her tongue cut out. Next her eyes were removed before having her throat slit, all the while Arriala watched on in horror as the Kings two men held her back.
Now the King was free to take what he wanted and what he wanted was Arriala. Long into the night he used and defiled her body, over and over again, tearing away a bit more of her slightly shattered soul. If she tried to fight back she was beaten. When the king tired of her he handed her over to his men where they took over the raping and the beatings.
When the sky rose the following morning the sky was blue and the birds chirped happily in the trees outside and King Zakarus and his two men continued their journey to Hayenville. Arriala was left, bloodied and broken, on the floor next to her grandmothers corpse.
After no certain mount of time Arriala somehow managed to gather the strength to get up and slowly, but painfully, make her way to the gates of the village that had shunned her from the moment she was born to seek help, only to be refused entry. Not only was she cursed but a great tragedy had befallen her. She could not be allowed in the village, not the day before harvest day, and risk bringing with her all the bad luck that had befallen her. She would have to stay outside the gates and wait until they could find a medicine man who would be willing to help her. And so she waited outside the gates, wrapped in nothing but a bloodied sheet. She waited as the sun sank lower in the the sky and the birds grew quiet. She waited until the moon rose high in the sky and the village came alive with harvest celebrations. She waited until the village grew quiet and went to sleep and still, no medicine man came.
Arriala picked herself up and slowly and painfully made her way back to the cottage where she slept for a full day and a full night.
The following day she buried her grandmother. Throwing the last handful of dirt over the grave Arriala sang a departing song and then swore over her grandmothers grave that she would never let another man touch her, not while she lived. And she swore that she would have revenge on all of those who had done her wrong, starting with Zakarus.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The years went by. Zakarus' reign had come to an end and another was selected to take his place, then another replaced him and another replaced her. Seven years had passed and Arriala grew more and more secluded. The people of the village had forgotten about her and she was left alone. She kept track of Zakarus. Being a past King he was still protected to a certain extent and it was not easy getting close to him, but Arriala was patient. She always was, right up to her last breath. And soon, her opportunity for revenge arrived in a most unexpected way.
Queen Wanva's reign was coming to an end. Her two years was almost up. It was time to consult the Runes in order to find her successor.
What I am about to say next did not come from a direct source, but was rumoured around the castle. It was whispered that when the Queen's Witch first consulted the Runes she thought she had been mistaken, so she read them again. And again, and then one more time. But each time they revealed the same answer. The hermit, in the woods by Niaton would be the next ruler. She would be Queen Arriala.
With a name confirmed the Queen and two of her men rode out to the cottage, nestled deep in the middle of the woods, half a days journey from Niaton and they found the woman who lived all alone. They told her that she was next in line for the crown and if she were to refuse she would be put to death, as was the custom of the kingdom.
At first Arriala had wanted to refuse them, just to defy them out of spite. After all, what had the Kings and Queens of past ever done for her? But then it dawned on her that such a opportunity would extend her much power. She could carry out her promise to herself and bring tragedy down on those who had allowed it to befall on her.
Arriala accepted the role that was offered her and on the second full moon after the Queen's visit she would go to the palace where the diadem would be passed from Queen Wanva to Queen Arriala.
Celebrations were prepared for the changing of the diadem and Arriala found herself, on the second full moon, standing in the grand hall of the palace in front of all the living past Kings and Queens, the Witch, the Royal Speaker and myself, the Jester. It was the first time I had laid eyes on the woman who would change my entire world.
The Royal Speaker spoke of the tradition of the changing of the diadem, of how the old Queen had fulfilled her role and used the power wisely. He then removed the simple silver band from around Wanva's head, and the small opal in the middle of the band, which always shone brightly, faded. There was a small cry from Wanva but whether it was the release of the the circle of silver that had embraced her head for the past two years or the feeling of emptiness from no longer possessing the power of the diadem, I could not tell you.
The Royal Speaker then continued his speech and detailed the power that Arriala would hold once the diadem was placed on her head. She was sworn to use the power wisely, for the good of the kingdom. She promised, her oath delivered strong and confident and the whole room was convinced that the Runes had chosen wisely. They were soon to find that their confidence was misplaced.
The diadem was then placed over Arriala's head, where the opal resumed shining brightly again. She let out a small cry as the band tightened around her head, where it would stay until the end of her reign.
Queen Arriala was announced to the room and the sound of cheers and applause filled the great hall and I noticed that our new Queen, whilst graciously bowing her head to her predecessors, never once took her eyes off of Zakarus.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let me tell you story about a ruler. A ruler that was strong and powerful and wicked and callous. A ruler that was feared by all, yet feared no-one. A ruler that could have been wonderful if only life had been wonderful to her, but as fate had fallen across her path it had been cruel and unkind so love and compassion, if they had ever been learned, were hidden away and long forgotten about.
If you stay and listen I shall tell you how she became cruel and how she rose to power and then I shall tell you how she fell. I will not tell this story in her favour nor shall I paint her tale in a darker shade than was true. I shall simply tell it how I saw it and how I heard it.
You may wonder why I want to tell you this tale and the answer is simply to set the story straight. I tell you to let you know that she was treated badly, not just those who should have protected her or those who should have admired and respected her, but by the one who loved her.
I know her story, and I know it well, because I was her confidant, her friend and her lover. I was with her everyday and it was my role to please her for I was her Jester and in the end it was I who betrayed her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her story begins 28 years before her death, when there was no moon in the night sky. The story is words stolen from her own lips.
It begins with her birth.
The labour was long and the mother was weak and after birthing a defenceless, innocent, healthy baby girl she held her in her arms and named her Arriala and then she closed her eyes and simply died.
Unfortunately for Arriala she was born in a kingdom built on tradition and superstition, a dangerous mix at the best of times, and a baby who kills their mother in childbirth is labeled unlucky, untouchable, tainted. It goes without saying that such a child would not be graciously accepted into the community and being born on a dark night, with no moon in the sky only deepened the villagers suspicions of this new life. It was agreed that this child was no good. Harvest time was soon and village could not allow anything that would not bode good fortune inside the town walls, so, not only a full day old, the child and her family were banished beyond the walls, left to fend for themselves.
Just once fate delivered a kind hand to this small child and it was in the form of her grandmother. She took the child in and raised her in a cottage in the middle of the woods. Arriala's father despised the child for killing his wife, thus rendering them outcasts. One night he had become drunk, which was not unusual, and beat his child for the last time. She was five years old at the time. Had her grandmother not intervened Arriala would not have lived to see six. He left that night and never retuned. Arriala never knew if he was still alive and chose not to return, or if he had perished somewhere unknown. She didn't care either way.
The girls grandmother brought her up the best she could. She was taught how to count and read and write. She learnt how to cook and clean and sew. She was educated in what food and herbs were safe and how to make medicines and tonics. One thing she was never taught was how to fight.
Arriala had seen how nasty people could be. After all, she had spent fourteen years of her life being taunted by other children and ignored and shunned by every adult that was not her grandmother. So, yes, she saw how people could be cruel but she had never seen how they could be evil.
She soon found out.
It happened late one afternoon, during the rule of King Zakarus, when the King and two of his men were travelling to Hayenville for the harvesting celebrations. They were still a days ride away but dark clouds had blotted the sunlight from the sky and rain started to fall, fast and heavy just as they came across the cottage that housed Arriala and her grandmother.
Now keep in mind, that the King or Queen that has been chosen is meant to be kind and honourable, respecting their subjects, but sometimes power can blacken the soul, twisting what was once good into something evil and malignant and this was the case for Zakarus. What the king wanted, he took. Even if he didn't want it he still took it, deeming it his royal right to have anything that was before him, so when he saw Arriala, young and innocent and very timid, he decided that he wanted her.
Arriala's grandmother told the King that she was not his for the taking for she had heard the stories of the king and how he took young girls, used them and then threw them away, but she would not have it for her granddaughter, who had already suffered so much.
In response to her defence for her granddaughter and her defiance towards the King she had her tongue cut out. Next her eyes were removed before having her throat slit, all the while Arriala watched on in horror as the Kings two men held her back.
Now the King was free to take what he wanted and what he wanted was Arriala. Long into the night he used and defiled her body, over and over again, tearing away a bit more of her slightly shattered soul. If she tried to fight back she was beaten. When the king tired of her he handed her over to his men where they took over the raping and the beatings.
When the sky rose the following morning the sky was blue and the birds chirped happily in the trees outside and King Zakarus and his two men continued their journey to Hayenville. Arriala was left, bloodied and broken, on the floor next to her grandmothers corpse.
After no certain mount of time Arriala somehow managed to gather the strength to get up and slowly, but painfully, make her way to the gates of the village that had shunned her from the moment she was born to seek help, only to be refused entry. Not only was she cursed but a great tragedy had befallen her. She could not be allowed in the village, not the day before harvest day, and risk bringing with her all the bad luck that had befallen her. She would have to stay outside the gates and wait until they could find a medicine man who would be willing to help her. And so she waited outside the gates, wrapped in nothing but a bloodied sheet. She waited as the sun sank lower in the the sky and the birds grew quiet. She waited until the moon rose high in the sky and the village came alive with harvest celebrations. She waited until the village grew quiet and went to sleep and still, no medicine man came.
Arriala picked herself up and slowly and painfully made her way back to the cottage where she slept for a full day and a full night.
The following day she buried her grandmother. Throwing the last handful of dirt over the grave Arriala sang a departing song and then swore over her grandmothers grave that she would never let another man touch her, not while she lived. And she swore that she would have revenge on all of those who had done her wrong, starting with Zakarus.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The years went by. Zakarus' reign had come to an end and another was selected to take his place, then another replaced him and another replaced her. Seven years had passed and Arriala grew more and more secluded. The people of the village had forgotten about her and she was left alone. She kept track of Zakarus. Being a past King he was still protected to a certain extent and it was not easy getting close to him, but Arriala was patient. She always was, right up to her last breath. And soon, her opportunity for revenge arrived in a most unexpected way.
Queen Wanva's reign was coming to an end. Her two years was almost up. It was time to consult the Runes in order to find her successor.
What I am about to say next did not come from a direct source, but was rumoured around the castle. It was whispered that when the Queen's Witch first consulted the Runes she thought she had been mistaken, so she read them again. And again, and then one more time. But each time they revealed the same answer. The hermit, in the woods by Niaton would be the next ruler. She would be Queen Arriala.
With a name confirmed the Queen and two of her men rode out to the cottage, nestled deep in the middle of the woods, half a days journey from Niaton and they found the woman who lived all alone. They told her that she was next in line for the crown and if she were to refuse she would be put to death, as was the custom of the kingdom.
At first Arriala had wanted to refuse them, just to defy them out of spite. After all, what had the Kings and Queens of past ever done for her? But then it dawned on her that such a opportunity would extend her much power. She could carry out her promise to herself and bring tragedy down on those who had allowed it to befall on her.
Arriala accepted the role that was offered her and on the second full moon after the Queen's visit she would go to the palace where the diadem would be passed from Queen Wanva to Queen Arriala.
Celebrations were prepared for the changing of the diadem and Arriala found herself, on the second full moon, standing in the grand hall of the palace in front of all the living past Kings and Queens, the Witch, the Royal Speaker and myself, the Jester. It was the first time I had laid eyes on the woman who would change my entire world.
The Royal Speaker spoke of the tradition of the changing of the diadem, of how the old Queen had fulfilled her role and used the power wisely. He then removed the simple silver band from around Wanva's head, and the small opal in the middle of the band, which always shone brightly, faded. There was a small cry from Wanva but whether it was the release of the the circle of silver that had embraced her head for the past two years or the feeling of emptiness from no longer possessing the power of the diadem, I could not tell you.
The Royal Speaker then continued his speech and detailed the power that Arriala would hold once the diadem was placed on her head. She was sworn to use the power wisely, for the good of the kingdom. She promised, her oath delivered strong and confident and the whole room was convinced that the Runes had chosen wisely. They were soon to find that their confidence was misplaced.
The diadem was then placed over Arriala's head, where the opal resumed shining brightly again. She let out a small cry as the band tightened around her head, where it would stay until the end of her reign.
Queen Arriala was announced to the room and the sound of cheers and applause filled the great hall and I noticed that our new Queen, whilst graciously bowing her head to her predecessors, never once took her eyes off of Zakarus.