Fallen One's Vengence | Teen Ink

Fallen One's Vengence

February 22, 2012
By MissAwefull SILVER, Amesbury, Massachusetts
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MissAwefull SILVER, Amesbury, Massachusetts
5 articles 1 photo 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
"You find him, you kill him. You cut his head off. Any one want a cookie?"


Author's note: I have been writing this for a few years, but never thought that I could ever complete it. It is still not finished.

The Queen sits quietly waiting for you to seat yourself across from her. She watches you with black eyes, that burn into your soul. She only looks around thirty or forty, but you know her true age. You've seen her before, but only at a glimpse, you were eight then. Her hair is snow white, and flows down her back, almost reaching her knees. Her skin pale white marked with black tattoos everywhere. Ones with screaming faces seem to stare out to you, crying for you to free them from her poisonous skin.

You've heard stories about her. Her wrath, her power, her heartlessness, and her grace. She is not worshiped, but honored. She is stronger than the others. You were always told to call her, "Queen," but that never felt right to you. You always just called the Queen "Her". Nothing more nothing less. You knew somehow that you should hate her, and act as if you love her like the others. But you didn’t, you only questioned her power.

You finally work up the nerve to step closer to her. Even though ever fiber in you is telling you to run away. But, if you don't, she might do something to you.

All the sudden you find yourself sitting in the chair across from her.

You try to keep eye contact, but you feel if you do, your eyes will melt in your skull. Or you'll die.

"Look at me, Ophelia!" She says quietly but it seems like the loudest thing you have ever heard. You look at her, your heart sinking inside you.

"Becoming a Torian, is not a goal to set, and don't you dare idolize me, I'm not really a very good role model." she states bluntly, like you haven't heard it from your dad enough.

You don't answer, you only stare blankly at the wooden table, that has turned black under her touch.

"So... " she says. You look at her. She seems childish, but not. Mature, but so, so, stupid and reckless. You're not sure why, but you think she is quite annoying, and less fierce and yet more so.

"It's going to be hard to believe, but I'm practically your grandmother." she rolls her eyes and sits back into her seat, seemingly relaxed, but you can tell she's as stiff as a board, and feigning everything external. Then you focus on her words, as they echo in your vast mind. Her words seem dirty, like they were never meant to be touched or heard.

You don't react. But, you are utterly astonished inside. It does, in some perverse and terrible way, that she could be the mother of either your father or mother. But, which one?

Your face doesn't give away your thoughts, you act as though you already knew. Remembering training yourself to do so in front of Torians. Especially the ones with powers. You remind yourself again.

She starts to speak again, and you listen in close, not wanting to interrupt her. There have been consequences for that. And you know what they are.

"I know what you're thinking. I'm insane, I already knew that. I'm a murderer, it's been said to the point of annoyance. You get it, no you don't. I should get help, there is none. Can I hear myself? I wish I couldn't. Why am I talking to you about my problems? I'm not, because, my problem, is now yours."

She lets you process what she said, before you come up with an answer that will be suitable for the situation. You focus your mind on the last sentence, then it all clicks.

The reason you are here, the reason your father looks like he's your younger brother, the reason your aunts and uncles marvel over you, 'The One Who Is' they call you. Sometimes you even hear some of them whispering 'born of a Livin' you know what that is. The ones who have mortal lives, the humans. They age every day. You don't. Your body grows and ages slowly, while your mind zooms beyond its real age.

It's been 100 years. You only look about16, maybe younger.

"What does this problem mean that you speak of?" You say elegantly as you articulated the speech you learned from the oldeTorain's.

"You talk so old for such a young one." she laughs lightly and smiles a very odd smile, you can't quite tell if it's scary, intimidating, happy, or likable. You decide on a mix of happy and scary, for she seems to have fangs of some sort.

"Elegancy is not to be used now, I'm quite serious about this 'problem' of ours." She says.

Ours?

"There's something you're keeping from me. I know, I've heard. They all whisper and talk about me behind my back. What is the secret this world is holding from me?" You stand up, in annoyance, her games are getting on your nerves.

Her eyes widen.

"Ophelia, I am not here to hurt you, or to punish you, or kill you. But I am here to teach you about yourself, and about what you are going to face." She stands also and puts a hand on your shoulder. She looks you straight in the eye. Her face is serious, her eyes yearn for you to sit back down and talk. But, you don't want to talk, you want to run, far, far, away. You know you can, and you know she can't catch up, she's too heavy.

Your ready to bolt, but something grabs you and pulls you to stay on that God forsaken spot.

"What the..?" You feel as though your will has been taken from you. Your power is gone from making that decision. You know what happened, you've seen it before. Her, taking advantage of your weakness.

She takes her hand off your shoulder, and steps back to the table fiddling with her chain belt. "I don't like doing that to you, anyone," She says coldly. "but in order to get anything done I have to control you like animals. But, I think that if God didn't give me this power no one would be so afraid of me." she shakes her head, making her white hair shimmer and go into her face. "You have it too, you know..." She looks down at the table sadly and scowls, like remembering a confusing puzzle.

You're struck by that. She knows I have power. She freaking knows.

"How? I mean, how am I this way?" You ask.

She turns to you, and gives you a stern look. Then she says, "Because you're the next Queen."

You blink twice and look at her. "What did you say I was?"

She smiles and chuckles softly putting her fist in front of her slim lips. "Ophelia, I never said it was bad to be a chosen one, it was just a little unfortunate. It'll be hard, but, I can tell you'll be fine." She doesn't give you a very good answer, it seems more like a riddle than the sarcastic answer you were expecting, not a confusing muddle of words.

"I still don’t understand what you mean," You try at shy, but your facial expression is more confused and excited as you wished it to be.

"Guess," She says, with a seductive smile. You are not sure what that was for.

Now you're annoyed. First she says a weird thing to you, answers your question with a riddle and when you reply, she's playful? You don't feel very convinced of the Queen being a very good Queen at all.

"I'm your successor?" You ask, not knowing how right you were at that moment. Not comprehending the vast hell you will face.

"You are quite right, Ophelia. So meek and naive," She mutters to herself.

"I, a half breed, am going to be a Queen?" You say slowly trusting your mouth not to screw up your sentence.

She smiles a very scary smile, her white lips stretching over her dead face.

"If I could choose differently, well, I wouldn't choose at all, I have gotten used to this God-gifting torment. Not very well adjusted, but still I'm--what's another word for happy, but not quite happy?-- Content! That's it, I'm content with it." Her eyes lit up insanely, then settled again to the normal rage, as she continued. "To make that more understandable to your half-human self," she looks discussed at the word 'human' gets over it, and pushes forward. "yes, you're going to be the next tortured, spit upon and worshipped idiot called 'Queen'." She rolls her eyes and then rests them on you, waiting for your expression to become less dazed.

Those words you were hearing, those words meant you were going to control the world of Torians. You were being given a power beyond what any human could comprehend. Only slightly conceivable to you. But, you know that this summoning of your presence wasn't for nothing, it was for learning.

"My Queen….This is almost unthinkable as you have said, and here I will learn." you say, not exactly knowing what it will mean, and what peril it will cause.

"I think you are finally starting to get it." she bears her teeth in what you think is a grin, but looks more like a growl without sound. The image of her teeth makes you think of tearing flesh, knowing that she has eaten up human's faster than she could run.

"What exactly is it that you wish to do," you pause, wanting to get the words right, never wanting to sound like a fool. "about me becoming the next Queen?" Whatever she is scheming you know you're not going to like it.

"Training!" she stands excitedly, her hair bounces, her eyes are wild and fierce with adrenalin. "I'm going to train you to fight in all different ways, show you how to use some of your powers and help you to start on your journey to rule." she laughs, a trilling evil cackle. And you think if she had said that any faster, she would have spat acid on you like a dragon breaths flame.












What you didn’t know was that she seemed so evil, and hard, but somewhere in her black cursed heart, she had some spark of love. Pathetic and weak it may be to you, it was there.


You walked out of the black room into the next, she was in front of you, receiving the honor she exists for.

The floor boards creek eerily, and the palace is more like a simulated Hell than it is a house, where things should be cozy and warm, not cold and dark.

The rooms are simple and bare, and at the entrance the guards stand so still they look dead with fear, all they do is stare.

When the Queen walks out onto the porch she slides her body like a snake as she walks up to one of her guards and pushes her dead body into the guards stone still one and clutching his face she kisses his cheek. As if she were blessing him, when her black lips touch his white skin, a small hardly visible wave of eerie light ripples beneath his skin while her lips are still resting there.












She froze him.

Your eyes are wide. Why is she so powerful? Will I be that way when I ascend the thrown?

The Queen pushes herself away from him her neck cranes in your direction and her back arches so her breasts are prominent under her low black top. The guard never moved while she gave her deathly cold kiss to his face.

You wonder if she is obsessed with torturing her guards in the ways of her twisted mind. You recover, and stand up on the step you were sitting on.

The Queen walks over to you still slightly serpentine. And slithers a white arm around your shoulders, making you shiver with her cold forearm against your bare neck.

You feel if she touches you too much with her tattooed skin they'll rub off on you. They don't.

The older Torians have a few tattoos like hers, but they are less intense, when you realize there are from less horrific things than the Queens.

Being half Torian you have some issues when it came to other Torians. They didn't age, there weren't other Torian children, they were all above 11 if there were any at all. Torians with long sentences would stay awhile in the ruined city, others with a short 10-100 years gone in a flash.

She leads you down the creaking steps of her tattered palace she has inhabited for over a millennia. You find it hard to believe it had survived the Queens harsh abuse to everything she touches.

You glance back at it. Its black, faded, and sunken. The 5 story hotel, its widows broken, the doors hanging ajar, and the carpets torn to bits. The furniture that remained was chewed by the teeth of the insane. The Torians that lose it get locked up in there, sometimes you hear them scream when they are aggravated with something.

The health bonus of being half-Torian has saved your sanity completely.

"So, Princess, what would you like to know?" she interrupts your thoughts.

"Um…." You think about all the powers she has. "What exactly is the strength benefits of being Queen?" you ask politely.

She laughs. A shrieking sound, regretting your closeness to her immediately that her black dead mouth is so painfully close to your tentative ears.

"Well, little one, when I became Queen, there was only around 10-30 Torians existing in the entire world at ounce. My power seemed strong to many people, was actually very weak compared to the strength I have now. The reason? There are more Torians for me to rule over, therefore I am given more power to drive them with. Make sense Princess?" she mocked you with that name. You were already starting to hate it.

The information looped into your thoughts, connecting the dots and sewing up pieces of the web of knowledge you were making of this day. This very, very, odd day.

"There is so much work to be done!" the Queen exclaimed, a sarcastic and malicious smile on her lips. "Princess? You, need to be trained,"

What a prissy name for a soon to be tyrant. You think bringing your mood down. Making your very straight shoulders slouch just a hair, and your eye brows come together a little, and your face darken with annoyed rage.

"Trained in what? I hope you didn't out do yourself and written a manual?" you ask, pushing the limits of your privilege to talk back to the Queen.

She chuckles, a rumbling sort of giggle that could break the bones of a new born baby human. "I would never go so far for another in all my reign, but if you want to write a manual, don’t hesitate, although it would be the last thing you ever wrote," she sneers.

She was starting to remind you of a very annoying yet very powerful child. At least she didn't call you to kill you today. That’s all you can thank God for at the moment.

"You remind me of your mother a little too much, Princess. And if you weren't a Princess you would be dead, because you are an abomination. Human and Purgatorian. Disgusting," she wiped her mouth of the filth that she had just spoken. Using the back of her hand she flicked the invisible dirt away, then put her white hand into a fist that could pull out your heart.

"My mother? Merriam never speaks of her," Merriam was your father, you believed that back in the time that he was a human, that name was very feminine. It didn’t seem so now. "Can you tell me about her?" you open up a little, but your starting to regret saying something that childish.

"Not today," the Queen says, shaking her head sadly.

Did she miss her? You think about it, you conclude it would be dumb for a human to stay alive this long. But in your heart, even if it was stained black from your father's Purgatory, you hurt to know who she was, and how she died.


The Queen lead you through the wretched streets, she strut with a strange aura that cast a shadow in your mind but lit the street with faces of the damned, they peered out to see their Queen with the halfling.

You had to slow your pace to hers, so not to pass in front of her even though it seemed she was walking as fast as her skinny legs would take her. It confused you that she weighed so much even though she had the body of those anorexic models in the old magazines from the days when Livins were dominant.

It was eerie to walk the streets with her, you had the feeling she was taking you to your home. You thought of what Merriam would do if he was there. He probably was there.

She stops in front of the towering building where you live. Merriam claimed it a very long time ago, right after you were born.

Merriam came out of the building, smiling at the Queen. You think you hear him whisper a name, but you don’t understand. The Queen smiles back and walks to him more swiftly than she walked with you, and Merriam and her embraced. They stayed that way longer than you expected them too. He even kissed her on the cheek, and she returned the gesture.

"Has the day come already, Mother?" Merriam asks, looking at her, his lips smiling, and his eyes sad.

"It has my son, and the larger approaching," she answers.

You put it together quickly, that Merriam was the son of the Queen, and you were his daughter. But why were you the successor? Shouldn't he be the King? You would find this out.



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