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The Conquest
of Queen Belkis

Queen Belkis narrowed her brilliant silver eyes until they were slits. "WHO, on this green earth, has the NERVE to trespass onto MY forests?" she roared, her resonant voice carrying throughout the kingdom of Feyenor. "I'll kill them!"

She whipped around to face her aids, council members, and advisors, and then ordered, "Send our best spy down there NOW. I want to know who that wretched entourage belongs to."

"Yes, your majesty. We will give you a full report as soon as possible," her highest councilor replied, refraining from wincing.

"Good," she said abruptly, running out of breath. A stray lock of auburn hair fell from her disheveled chignon as she bent over, gasping for air. The lovely dark queen of Feyenor was notorious for forgetting to breathe when she was livid. In fact, she was notorious for being livid, period. But nothing quite upset her as the prospect of a "foreign invasion", like that which faced her now. When she finally caught her breath, she picked up her skirts and marched back into the palace.

After she was out of sight (and hearing range) her people exchanged glances. One of them dryly declared, "Now the whole world knows we're sending someone to spy on that entourage down there."

~*~*~

The young queen entered her private library, and began pacing like a mad woman. It usually took her awhile to cool down after she got so worked up, and nothing helped quite like a good pace in the library. Eventually her dark slender hand sought out a book: The History of Feyenor, Volume IV, compiled by Ally Calendro. She placed it on a table and began to read it. Unlike most women her age, she loved history. It took but a moment for her to become thoroughly drawn into the book's contents. Hours went by, and night fell. She brought the book into her private chamber. It wasn't until she'd had a bath and was reading peacefully in bed, that an aid knocked on the door.

"Your Highness, we know who was in the forest."

"Who?"

"Aleron, king of West Braulio. He..."

"Why," she interrupted, "I can't believe it! What in the blazes was that stupid old geezer doing in my forest?"

"He was..."

"I'll kill him!" she hissed, bursting out of her room with such force that one of her heavy wooden doors hit the aid and knocked him to the floor unconscious. Her handmaiden ran after her, crying, "My Lady! You are not dressed properly!" But the queen did not hear the girl's plea for sanity. The handmaiden, realizing she was helpless to do anything, went to the kingdom's highest councilor and told him about the queen's outrageous behavior. "What should we do?" she asked him. The councilor smiled a mysterious smile, and replied, "Nothing. Let's just hope the king of West Braulio is feeling up to a challenge today."

"But she could hurt him, or make him angry... and start a war!"

"Do not worry. He cares for Feyenor more than she does. He was born here, you know, and much of his family is buried in these forests. As for his personal safety... I wouldn't worry about that."

~*~*~

The young queen bridled her horse quickly, without help from a stable boy, and rode out of Feyenor, not even taking the time to saddle her mount. It was past midnight when she reached West Braulio, and everything was quiet there. Like many ex-princesses, she was skilled at sneaking in and out of palaces in the middle of the night, even strange palaces. So she got in without a hitch. Nor did she have any problems finding the royal chambers. In fact, her thoughtless mission was going a little too smoothly.

She found the main corridor that led to the king's chamber.

For a moment she paused, taken back by its grand architecture, and gazed up at its high ceiling. The ceiling was made of ornate glass, revealing a glittering night sky. After admiring the moon and the stars, she continued on, but then abruptly stopped again, because an enormous male lion stood in her way.

It looked like a magnificent statue, carved from something whiter than freshly fallen snow. It seemed to stare at her intensely, with wide-set eyes that were like two glowing orbs, reflecting the moonlight sifting in through the ceiling. She stepped closer, marveling at its awesome artistry. What kind of jewels were used to create such brilliant eyes? She was about to come even closer to find out, when the eyes slowly blinked.

She quickly backed away, but not fast enough. The lion reared up and pushed her to the ground with such force the air was knocked from her lungs, making it impossible for her to scream. Then it took her by the arm and dragged her down the hall. She struggled, but the beast was too powerful. It brought her into a vast chamber lit by a single candle, before finally releasing her. She tried to get up and run away, but its enormous paw pinned her against the floor.

"What have we here, Snowfire?" a man's voice asked in the darkness. "A Queen of Feyenor? In my chamber at this hour? In her nighties?"

She looked up from the floor, panting, with eyes as wide as plates. A handsome man with wildly un-kept hair peered down at her from a desk. His skin was paler than any she'd ever seen before, and contrasted dramatically with his dark features.

Snowfire released her, and backed away.

The man set down his writing implement, irritably ran his perfect hand through his chaotic black hair, and then stood to an impressive height. Magnificent wings, much like giant raven's wings, framed his body. He offered her his hand. For a moment she was dumbstruck, staring at a crude iron shackle that was around his wrist. "Don't worry," he told her, "Snowfire will only harm you if you intend on killing me. Oh, that's not what you were attempting, were you?"

She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. "W-what... who are you?" she stammered, noticing a collar around his neck made of the same type of metal as the shackles. "What and who am I?" he asked, amused. "Do you often burst into other people's palaces and demand who and what they are?"

"You didn't answer my question."

Her haughty attitude provoked him. He stepped close to her, his face inches from hers, and looked her in the eye with eyes of pure molten gold. Like a wild predator, his pupils narrowed into fine slits. She backed away. He stepped close to her again, and began to circle her, not breaking eye contact. "I am Aleron, King of West Braulio."

"N-no... that's impossible. King Aleron is..."

"Old," he interrupted.

"Yes, very old, but you can't be a day over twenty-five!"

"Dear girl, don't you ever talk to your people?" he asked, studying her dark face. "Do you have a clue as to what gossip goes on around you?"

"History is my life!"

He laughed.

"What's so funny?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Not so loud, Queen of Feyenor. That 'resonant' voice of yours is going to awaken my entire kingdom."

"Sorry... it's just that I..."

"Like getting your message across," he finished for her. "Why are you here, Queen of Feyenor?"

She scowled. "I'm here because your entourage went 'rampaging' through my forests today, and..."

"You forgot that we were coming, even though you yourself authorized our visit."

"No, I did NOT authorize anything! And will you stop finishing everything I have to say?" She ran out of breath, so her last few words came out squeaky. He rolled his eyes. "But you did. Then you forgot you did, because you were too busy reading History of Feyenor, Volume III, at the time!"

"H-How do you know this? Do you have spies in my kingdom?"

"No, I'm telepathic."

"I don't believe you!"

"I can read your mind like an open book, Queen of Feyenor. You are standing too close to me." She stepped away from him. He continued, "You had completely forgotten we were going to pass through your forests, and had a childish fit so irrational, you rode your horse bareback to West Braulio, in your night clothes, with the intention of doing who-knows-what to some poor old drooling geezer (my telepathy has its limits, there). But instead, you found someone a lot easier on the eye than you ever dreamed existed, and now, you are stumped."

"Why, you... presumptuous... man! Thing! Bird! Whatever you are!" she retorted.

"So it is true than? The royalty of Feyenor have silver blood. My dear, are you blushing? For me? Your face is shimmering."

She pushed him hard in the chest, throwing him off balance. He flapped his great wings like a bird trying to keep from falling off its perch, before catching himself on the desk. A few black feathers fluttered down on them like falling leaves. "Vicious girl!" he scolded. "Were your father alive I'd..." He suddenly inhaled sharply and looked down at his hands. They were transparent, like a ghost's, but the shackles on his wrists remained solid.

"What's wrong with your hands?" she gasped. Her eyes were as wide as plates.

"Oh, bits and parts of me come and go all the time," he answered through his teeth.

"What? Why?"

"My dear, if you were my age, bits and parts of you would come and go all the time too!"

"Are you dying?"

"Yes, I am dying." He fell back into his chair, looking even paler than before. "Just not the way you will. No messy corpse for anyone to have to deal with. Someday soon, I will simply 'vanish'."

She looked on horrified, staring at his hands. Then she noticed the paper he rested them on; it looked like a page in a history book. She quickly snatched it from under his forearms and studied it. "You write history!"

"It's what I do, these days." He nodded toward a book on his desk. She picked it up and examined the cover. It was a copy of the same book she'd been reading only a few hours ago, History of Feyenor, Volume IV, compiled by Ally Calendro. She stared at it blankly for a moment, and then a light came across her face. "Y-you... you're 'Ally'!"

"Mmmmm. I have a commission by the Emperor himself to write about the kingdoms on this side of the Empire. Luckily, I have lived through much of it and have the memory of an elephant, so I don't have to do a substantial amount of research."

"How old are you?" she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She toyed with a strand of her auburn hair.

"This mid-summer I will be three thousand, on the mark. A very monumental birthday. Pity all my friends have died, and I haven't bothered to make new ones. No one to party with me... not that I'll make it to mid-summer; I don't know if I'll even be able to finish this last book before I go."

"That's awful."

"Oh don't worry. I have someone who will finish it for me, in the event that..."

"No, not that!" she interrupted, "...that you haven't made any new friends!" He raised an eyebrow at her, and then looked down at his hands. They were solid again. With a woeful sigh he said, "You tire of loosing friends after just a three hundred years of living in this world."

"Aren't there others like you?"

"No. I am the last of my kind. After I go, my race will be but a memory... or less. My people were killed off by genocide when I was very young. We were too strong, too threatening for the rest of the world; we were bound to be eradicated from it. I was just a small boy when I became the last of my race." He stood from his chair and pushed it away. For a moment he was quiet, and then he said, "I write history because it is often painful, and I've experienced far too much of it; writing is my pathetic way of letting out the pain."

Her face softened. With the impulsiveness of youth, she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. He startled and tried to pull away, but she squeezed him tighter and laid her head against his chest. His eyes widened, darting to and fro.

She was suddenly overwhelmed. It felt as if the ancient ruins of the Empire were moving, and breathing under her arms, alive. Images and feelings flashed through her mind: great battles fought; the rise of the mighty Empire; the beginnings of Feyenor and West Braulio; children had and lost; close friends living and then dying; an uncontrollable temper subdued by age; the tombs of loved ones crumbling into ruins; brutal imprisonment by a horrible entity... the shackles, the collar; the land as one would see it soaring high above the ground; losing the ability to fly as death crept nearer; and even the presence of the Emperor himself.

A few seconds went by like an eternity. A tear rolled down her cheek. She looked up into his face. "Aleron, no wonder you're dying. You can't carry all that by yourself."

His eyes were still wide, as he pushed her off of himself. "You just... saw my... memories."

"You gave them to me."

He let out a long wavering sigh. Almost tentatively, he returned her embrace, and closed his eyes. For the first time in countless years, his misery had a little company.

~*~*~

During the next couple of weeks, she rode out to West Braulio to visit the him everyday. She was too intrigued by him to leave him alone to his writing.

Despite their frequent spats, they became good friends. However, in a matter of days that wasn't enough, and a passionate kiss accidently happened between them. Afterwards he pushed her away, and told her, "No. I'm not doing this. I have nothing to offer you... nothing but the promise of heartbreak."

"'Ally', there's nothing you can say or do to stop that from happening. I care about you, more than I've ever cared about anyone."

A devilish look crossed his serious face, and he just couldn't restrain himself. "That's not saying much."

She punched him in the stomach and ran away in tears. He ran after her. "Stop! I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"No, you're right. I'm an awful person. I care about getting my own way more than I do about others, and I let my temper get the best of me. My people cringe when I am anywhere near them." He swung around in front of her, making her slam into him. "You are growing up so fast, Queen of Feyenor. You would think I'd be old enough to know not to fight these things. Marry me."

~*~*~

After putting him through a few days misery, she accepted his proposal, and they had a beautiful fairytale wedding in the forests between their two kingdoms.

Mid-summer came and went, during which she threw him a big party for his three-thousandth birthday. Throughout the rest of the summer, they shared many happy times together, but as autumn's leaves began falling, so did his health. He became so ill, he could not get out of bed. Then he started losing his mind; it would come and go just like his body. Despite that, Snowfire rarely left his side, and neither did she. Both were with him in his final moments, and remarkably, he became coherent then. "I'm so sorry," he told her, looking as if all the kingdoms of the Empire had gathered to burn history books in a great bonfire.

"Don't you dare look at me that way, Aleron. I'm not a child. I knew what was going to happen, and you know what? I have no regrets. None!"

"No, my dear. Not that... you are expectant."

"W-what?"

"I can sense their spirits growing inside you. There are three. All sons. I'm terribly sorry I won't be around to help you raise them."

She chocked back tears. "'Ally', you will always be here," she whispered, touching her heart with her dark hand. "Always." She tenderly kissed him on the lips before embracing him tightly, not seeing the tear roll down his cheek, nor the quiver of his chin. She did not let go of him for a long time... until it occurred to her she was holding just his robe. Startled, she looked down. His heavy collar and shackles lay on the bed sheets. With them, near where his heart had been, was a diamond more brilliant than any she'd ever seen, as though a bit of the sun was trapped into solid form.

She let out a sob, and looked up. Through teary eyes, she realized tears were streaming down Snowfire's white fur. It took a moment for it to register with her that dumb animals don't cry.

"Snowfire?"

The lion stepped forward, and told her, "I will speak to you just this once, Your Highness.

I am an immortal creature, which can be summoned only by the bounds of the strongest love. I was a gift to Aleron from his mother. When all hope was lost for his kind, she sent me to comfort and protect him, for the remainder of his life... however long that may be... for she knew his life would be hard. And now, My Lady, I will comfort and protect you, for the remainder of yours."

~*~*~

The background music on this page is "To The One Who Knows",
by Yanni, from his album Love Songs, and can be purchased at Amazon.com.

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