The Most Lovely Things

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Stories are a thing of incredible force. What is history if not a kind of story, told by the individuals who won? What force is there in remaining unaware of where your kind started? Our recollections are long, our set of experiences longer, our feelings of spite longest. Relations with different races have been wild, and a considerable lot of them want hurt for us. You should know where we came from to comprehend where we are, and where we may go. So I will advise you, youngsters, of how it was that we came to be sequestered in this arboreal jail. 

Maybe it is ideal to begin toward the start, with the Sister Queens. 

Sometime in the distant past, when the offspring of the forested areas were a wing-cover that covered this and each world, there were two sisters. One sister was a sovereign of warmth and daylight. Her delicate touch grew life from even the most parched soil, making spring out of even the most profound of snows. In her actual structure, she overshadowed the size of numerous mountains, her tree-flung arms loosening up and wrapping them in cooling conceal. The Summer Queen was a Titan, and it was this quality that turned into her Name. 

The different was a chilly, fearsome wonder with annihilation in her strides. Where she strolled, the ground got wilted and dried. Her touch carried sweet blankness to the individuals who opposed the laws, and no fire was adequately warm to liquefy her frozen heart. The Winter Queen was an animal of ice and fell sorcery, fearsome and horrible and eminent. We are prohibited to say her Name, as that fundamental right was taken from us by the Ones-Who-Secure. She was the mother of none, however we once viewed ourselves as her Children. 

At the point when times were acceptable, the sovereign whose name we can't say furnished us with an authentic bazaar of delight. Her mysterious key, blue as the bluest cornflower, would make a way for chasing grounds thick with fog where we would chase the purple brush-grinners to their dens and get back their cadavers to use in dining experiences or keep as prizes. The Moon-Named-Virgin was the best of trackers. It was she who brought to the Court of Summer a total example with scarcely a scratch on its mauve stow away and both brilliant sight-gems flawless. Her Queen made its bones as the mountains, her sister made its blood as ice, and it stayed a prize for a long time. 

At that point came the dimness as the Children of the Night; terrible little animals, bristly and worn out, following around deduction they were our equivalents. At the point when we discovered them they were minimal more than chimps in the forested areas playing with their toys. Their "leave-vers" and "pull-ease" were lovable however very unfeasible when contrasted with genuine force. We took them in, instructed them, raised them to the level of their betters, something for which they ought to have been thankful. 

They moved toward another mediocre race with a proposition: assemble a construction, a jail, and fill it with so much animals as they despised. What was it to us if a couple of the shaggy monsters succumbed to the bogus voices from the woodland? It is realized that demise goes ahead quick feet to the individuals who regard their calls, and just morons would urge it into pursuing them. We can't, won't, be considered answerable for their mix-ups. 

Hm? Say once more? Indeed, they toppled us by cheating, obviously. They couldn't have done it reasonably. Their equity was served, as one of our kin, He-Who-Grew-Ten-Thousand-Flowers, had the option to reimburse our destruction with his very own stunt. We told them the best way to utilize the devices, however it was the people that did it. They assumed the praise, turned the weapons first on the Children then on themselves. They have since a long time ago neglected, yet not us, not the Children of She-Who-Once-Was-Named. 

What's that? No, it was a reasonable inquiry. You may attempt to say her Name. You may attempt to say our Name. You will fall flat. It was a gigantic demonstration from the Children of the Sun that denied her of that most fundamental personality. We attempted to caution them of that which mass-delivered bad dreams, and were remunerated with the most horrible thing that should be possible. The wrongdoings carried out by the Children of the Night, however past grave, were as puerile tricks before this. Imprisonment, on schedule, can be excused. Destruction, with additional time, can be neglected. The Names of the dead missing still exist to grieve. 

Taking the Name of She-Who-Became-As-Vapor had an impact that even the most quick of us didn't expect: when Those-Who-Must-Contain took her Name, they accepting our Name also. The people keep on deriding us right up 'til the present time, as they, who are not limited by our standards, can utilize the Name of our Queen without any potential repercussions. Subsequently, we turned into the Children of the Nameless Queen. 

It is this that makes our collaborations with They-Who-Swore-To-Protect of principal significance. Names have power, and without them, we stay caught in this plated confine. A Name, any Name, even an acquired one, implies we will be sufficiently entire to leave. This is the reason we should connect with the individuals who drove us to this spot, and why they should supplant us here. We take their Names, and in this manner have their spot outside. At that point, and really at that time, would we be able to be free.


Submitted: May 13, 2021

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