Isolation, A Deadly Poison


, , , , , , ,

The Tenth of Tal, Sixteen Seventy-Four.

To be in isolation, is a dreary prospect. Veiled in one’s own thoughts you tend to get lost and days may pass in moments and on the next they become a never ending span of decades. Such horrific silence can drive one to desperation and that is where I find myself today my scalp itching and mouth tasting dreadful, I would give away land and title for a bath.
Draped on the bed a vial of clear blue liquid in my hand, it is poison, and what is in the common view is that each death by such fluid is unique. Now that is an old fishwives’ tale, a physician would say that there is only seventeen different ways to expire from this poison and that there is no antidote.

One would ask how a scion of a noble house and a child at that, would find themselves in possession of such a vicious substance. I like to think of it as a form of insurance. A child of Venus may not own land, they may be a tenant but never a land owner, and that puts a child of the starry heavens in an awkward position. Those laws are for the common man, the laws of nobility, gentry, are vast and sadly do not encompass beings such as I. One could argue that I will not rule, that a wedded consort would rule in my stead. If my uncle, the Lord Regent, were a lesser man I would think he plans to wed me, his brothers child. I hold the poison, the venom of a rare spider of the south, only to ensure that if he does plan that, that I shall not be his for long.

Tales speak of the spiders from their southern forest, each tree in this forest hundreds of feet tall and the spiders are the size of lap dogs. The story is told that these great trees were once men born of the star strewn heavens, beings the size of mountains. From the few paintings I’ve seen I’m inclined to agree with the legends, these trees pierce the sky. The earth knew only the cool embrace of the night until one day a burning god-thing came to the sky bringing light and heat. The blessed called out to their progenitors for protection and the fiery god was enrages at their insult.

He cast the Starry Heavens far away from the land making them small pinpricks of light. He cursed the children to only live in his light and horror etched on their faces they became the trees. Man was created for clay moistened from the deep oceans and baked in his glorious light. He blew breath and life into them. The Shining Lord, Life and Light, The Cleansing Fire; All of these and more are his names. So he said; I give to you my children the true inheritors: The Land, Sea, and Sky, to rule; Animals and Plants to eat; And the Children of The Cold Distant Heavens. The priest go on about how The Children are to serve man. They fear us. The Sons of Mars were hunted to extinction but a Son of Great Mars now sits on the throne. Maybe the Heavens aren’t so distant.

I believe he has me sequestered away for nefarious reasons, on the second day of my incarceration, the roaring sound of a herd of motorcars. Their infernal racket roused me from my fitful sleep, I have long since ran out of entertainment, I broke my knitting needle and dropped seven stitches on the lace work I was doing for Margret, that was after I hit yet another wall with Fathers cipher. I don’t know if I can last another day and a half alone. I believe dear uncle is trying to arrange a marriage explaining away the sound of supposed suitors. He must act quickly the stars are returning to their places from when I was born, it is close at hand and I will be of age and able to decide and speak for myself. I will have no use for a Lord Regent anymore.

If it wouldn’t risk his ire and drive away any potential suitors I would climb over the railing of my balcony and onto the one beside. Spirited away to the servants’ hall just for an hour or two would be a welcome relief, just to see people. While I can see the grounds and the grounds keepers from my windows it is far from sufficient. If I could just sneak into Father’s study for a few moments I know the key to the cipher is there sequestered among his papers and books, it has to be.

These days are the days that I miss Margret best. Even if he commanded me to my rooms she was my companion and would always join me. I miss laying by the fire and listening to her read the latest penny book. Torture is preferable to this.

Bend and Break, Twist and Change. The Vessel Is Never The Same.

The Beginning


, , , , , , ,

The Seventh of Tal, sixteen seventy-four.

Ten years ago my Father died, three moons later my mother followed him into death; She filled her pockets with pebbles and walked into the lake. I remember little of this time but I do know that he had been poisoned. My fathers physician believes it happened no more than two weeks before his death. My father kept a journal much like the one I now write; I haven’t gotten very far in it, it seems to be written in cipher. What I have read was quite shocking, the symptoms he’d dealt with started months before his death.

My Uncle has ruled as Regent since Father passed way, each passing year he has become more and more cruel. That may just be an illusion of my own mind to deal with his anger and thinly veiled hatred for me. My back still burns from the lashing I received for speaking out of turn during a dinner we hosted, I won’t be forgetting that lesson any time soon. Yet I still do not know how to keep a civil tongue in my mouth. He called me a vapid Child of Venus and I couldn’t keep myself from lashing out the only way I know how: I pointed out that the King is dead and that his son, a Son of Mars, now sits on the throne. He struck me, himself I mean; He didn’t call for his Valet. My jaw aches, I’ll have a bruise by morning. Not to worry, it will be gone soon.

In the ten years I have known him you would think that I would know not to press him, at least he knows best to not leave a scar. He found me in Fathers study today, well his study now. He’s found me in there countless times and it has done nothing but stroke his ire. I want nothing more than to know my parents, their rooms have been sealed and their paintings removed to the attic since he’s become Regent. I barely remember what they look like.

As our dear Lord Regent prefers to dole out punishments for infractions after the early evening meal, I absconded to one of the few last bastions of privacy I have. The Servant’s Hall is one of the few places our Lord refuses to go as it is beneath his station and seen as the domain of a woman. I hold no such illusions of my station, nor do I really care. Cook, Mrs. Argall, is kind and keeps a nice quiet corner where I might knit or read. The two nuisances is that she keeps trying to get me to eat while I’m down there and the fact that a few of the Footmen go cold and quiet when they notice me. I do not begrudge them, who wishes to speak freely around their perceived employer. When they appear I try to take my leave of them so as not to cause conflict between them, one cannot have the servants at war with one another.

As punishment for my transgression I’ve been locked in my rooms and here I shall remain for four days. I guess I will become very familiar with the ceiling and the few books I keep in here, it also gives me some precious time to work though Fathers cipher.

The Stars are Blisteringly Bright and The Keys to The Kingdom are Lost.

Regent: A person appointed to administer a State because the Monarch is a minor, is absent or is incapacitated.

Valet: Or Varlet are terms for male servants who serve as personal attendants to their employer. The valet performs personal services such as maintaining his employer’s clothes, running his bath and perhaps (especially in the past) shaving his employer.

A Son of Mars: You’ll find out soon enough.

A Child of Venus: Like the Son of Mars you will find out with due time.

The Birth of the Starry Heavens


, , , ,

Hello My Lovelies,

I’m sure by now you’ve all assumed I’ve abdicated my gilded throne and such desertion would normally warrant beheading but, I am a kind and just ruler; I won’t even call for public floggings or branding, only you and I need know of your abandonment of Queen and Country. You all may return with full amnesty for your heinous actions ill befitting people of our, essence.

Now I digress; With my return to Crown and Country after my time abroad I plan to bring sweeping changes. My lovely people, I know how change angers and frightens you so but if we allow ourselves to continue in this form of stagnation we will wither and die. I merely plan to brush away the dust and cut away that which no longer serves us as a people. I wish to return colour to our once brilliant nation. The alliances which we’ve held for so long have atrophied and no longer benefit us and will be unceremoniously removed. I have come back to my people, my children, you can expect semi-regular proclamations from me. I am shooting for weekly but it is more likely for bi-weekly posts, if I don’t seem to post for a while just email or tweet me and kindly remind your God-Queen.

My final announcement is one I’ve been thinking over since the founding but have only recently started to actualize that dream. As the greater portion of you know I have been writing a story, some have taken to calling it a novel. Occasionally I hit funks where I either cannot or will not be able to write any further in a certain scene, it isn’t so much as writers block as it is just an annoyance with the current scene. Instead of jumping forward or backwards in scenes and working I’ve decided to write a side story set in a completely different universe with completely new characters. The world building is still in it’s infant stages and it will probably be very rough. I invite you all to be my beta readers and critics. I will be using some uncommon terms and some terms and phrases of my own creation, do not worry I will be leaving a glossary at the end for those who do not know how to use Google. Now while I’ve given you free reign to critique my work I require you to keep a civil tongue in your mouth when speaking to me or your peers, after all I rule and you serve. You are free to make suggestions but any work is my property and mine alone. Those solemn few whom know spoilers you are formally bound not to revel said secrets. If you do I will have to smite your or hire a Royal Executioner, whichever takes less effort on my part.

By the way, I never did stick to the Pagan Blog Project. You guys never did stick to your end of the bargain, you know. Wrapping me in Deerskin, feeding me Pretzels, and eating Cheesecake in front of me. That’s probably for the best.

Well my children, keep your eyes out for the first installment!

Her Imperial and Royal Majesty, By the Grace of the Gods, The Defender of the Old Faith, The Morning Star, Sovereign Queen, The Empress of Thorns, The Queen of Roses, The Saint of Sinners, Oracle of the Gods, Prophetess of the Old Religion, Pope of Discord, Hecates’ Handmaiden, The Lady of The Quill, The Amber Lady, The Whore of Babylon, Sovereign over all, Daniel Ambrosius Devereux.