The Epic of Antares

The church doors groaned with the weight of a millennia behind them, the familiar scent of burnt candles and wood filled her nostrils. At this time while the city still slept the aroma was at its strongest, mixed with the morning air. The young acolytes who tended to the upkeep of the church bowed in exaltedness at her appearance. Each day she would come at the same time and each time they would do so, never once tiring at their routine. When she first arrived in the city some five years ago, she found the action odd. For this was a place of worship, that belonged to the Gods. All who entered here were meant to be equal in the eyes of the divine beings. Their action inadvertently elevated her to a realm she had never wanted to ascend to. However, as she passed them she wondered if the choice was ever really hers to make. The banality of life was always out of reach.

She walked deeper into the Temple of the Seven. She was welcomed by the ever familiar stone structures that made up the massive building. Rows upon rows of benches had been laid out in uniform order, emerald and gold cloth were placed neatly atop the seating arrangements, the ever known colors of House Blackrose. Which gave it an elegant and refined appearance. It was said that the church could easily seat ten thousand. Their voices echoing across the stone walls growing with more intensity by the passing second. There was no such passion to be found now. Alone, she stood in the great temple accompanied by silence and the occasional shuffling of feet across stone.

The queen walked through the aisle, hands passing over the benches lost in thought. The stained glass windows each depicted one of the Seven Gods, and in their appearance she found comfort. The dazzling array of colors that reflected off them onto the floor, turned a would be cold and grey interior to a multicolored room of reverence and worship. There was power here. It was ever so faint, but sometimes when she was in a deep need to relieve herself of the feelings she had, the hairs on her arms and neck would stand up reminding her that her prayers were heard. At least that is what she hoped the sensation was.

She carefully reached the grand altar. It was this that she adored most of all in the temple. The First Men had arrived in Aurum barely whole, over such an arduous and near impossible journey to reach these fabled lands. Those early years their time was spent adapting and coming to understand their place in relation to the fantastical and mystical creatures that called this great continent home. Yet in all that time–suffering to stay alive–their greatest creation and single most important piece of artwork that all who knew of them spoke about. Was the thirty feet tall golden mass that she now looked at.

Each of the Seven Gods were found in the torrent spilling out of the great being that sat in the middle. To the left of it in all their glory, the Foremother, the Father and the Daughter. To the right was the Forefather, the Mother and the Son. Above them, a constant reminder of the absurdity of reality and all that came with it. The Laughing Man–eyes covered with his hands unwilling to look upon the madness of it all. Resigned to a gleeful expression as the rest of the Gods looked onward, resolute to the world. At the center the seated being–the Many Faced God–faceless staring, judging, waiting. Observing its followers, observing her.

Freyja raised her veil and bowed slightly. She did not offer any prayer or acknowledgement. That would come later, she hoped. Instead she reached over the wooden railing and grabbed one of the many prayer sticks that were neatly arranged on top of each other. With a swift motion that had been done through countless years of repetition, she lit the stick and grasped it together with both hands. The words flowed from her in the language of the Storm Islands, of her home. She addressed the only two Gods that mattered to her people, to her–Astrid and Bodil, as they were known to those who followed the ways of the Storm. To those who followed the Faith of the Seven it was the Mother and the Daughter.

She started as she always did, she prayed for the soul of her big sister, she prayed for her husband and her son too, she prayed for Yara and to be absolved for her unforgivable decision. She hesitated, for the first time in five years, the smallest pangs of sadness and of guilt tugged at her, and then she prayed for Antares. When the first stanza of her prayer was finished, the queen went over and sat on her favorite bench, the one closest to the altar. She secretly believed perhaps, the closer she was to them, the more they would answer her supplications. She readied herself to speak about her thoughts and feelings to her Goddess's as she had always done, so that they may offer her wisdom and guidance. It was the first time those words never came. She simply stared into the burning stick she held in her hand. Wracked with sadness and guilt about the previous nights' events.

She knew better, knew the stress and pain he must have been under. He had only just lost his father, returned from exile to deal with a near rebellion and finally met the man who had cursed his family name for over a century. For her to react as she did when he refused her question was childish. Faye had always known there were far more dangerous games afoot throughout Aurum. Beings that operated in the shadows and moved people around, like the Gods did with fate. However just once she wanted to know why these beings–the Gods–would rip her away from the man she loved. Why did they have to suffer? What future was so important to have, that she could not live with the man she deeply desired, for him to hold her like he once did. A single tear slid down the side of her face. The storms in her eyes more pronounced in the dim light, and yet just as powerful as the thunder raging within them.

She sat there as early morning turned to late morning. Periodically standing to replace the prayer stick as they burned out waiting for her to speak her heart. Instead she just sat there in silence, listening to the city wake and celebrations commence once again. The temple doors would not open until the queen was ready to leave. It was not a decree made by her or her husband. In some ways it had become a ritual that those who tended to the temple offered her. For a continued generosity and strong show of faith that galvanized the people of Longshore and by extension, Talterra as a whole. Those doors would open for no one without her command.

As it were, the man that approached the temple was not simply anyone. He was far more than that.

The familiar groaning of the stone doors reverberated throughout the building, ringing a deep tune that signaled who approached was of the highest of honors. The rush of cheers and roars from the common folk blew in with a powerful fervor. Yet as quickly as it arrived, it vanished with the closing of the temple doors again.

His footsteps were silent, as though he glided across air with the ease of the wind at his feet. But not to her. She could always tell when he was close. He marched in sync with her heartbeat, he was the only one that could. Through her veil she watched him walk past her and stand before the altar. He followed the same rituals as she did, bowed his head and lit a prayer stick. His dark clothes cut a gentle figure in the morning sun. Five years and his lean frame still unaltered, no she was sure he had lost some weight. He sat next to her and as she taught him in their youth, he spoke the words of the Storm Islands in prayer. She smiled.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Everyone knows mornings are reserved for Freyja Stormborne and the Gods," he chuckled.

She leaned into him and laughed, "Oh stop it. I do not come here every day."

"I doubt that. I recall, very clearly, each morning you dragged me to the main temple on Kattegat." That familiar grin warmed her.

"You never refused if I also recall." Faye looked ahead pridefully. The queen relaxed a bit, "Why?" curiosity tugged at her sides.

It was not by choice she chose to visit the Temple of the Seven alone. She had asked her husband on multiple occasions to join her, to grow closer. However the king would always claim there was no time, and they would go on a different occasion. Those days never materialized and she could not help but compare to the days when she and the man sitting next to her would go daily without fuss. She had always wanted to ask him, and now she finally had the chance. She turned to face him in anticipation of his answer, ready to see another side of him.

"Guilt."

"Guilt?" she repeated, surprised by his answer.

"At first," he exhaled. "Humans often assume we do not believe in the Gods. However, that is not the truth. We believe they are real–were real," he corrected. "But a very long time ago, too long for even our people to remember, we slaughtered every last one of them in retribution."

There was an alien coldness to his words, it flowed through her with an authority that spoke with complete assuredness his words were true. The sensation aroused her, he aroused her.

"You know the stories, all Stygians are raised on them. So when you asked to go, I believed the least I could do was sit in that temple with you. If you were going to speak to the dead, I would be there as a witness to bear the sins of my ancestors."

Faye had always been fascinated and moved by his sense of duty and understanding of responsibility. Ever since they were children, Antares had always known what he was and who his people were. He was but a child, a mere child, even still he stood ready to always bear the weight of his people's actions on his tiny shoulders. She once thought it was one of his greatest blessings and curses.

"What changed?"

As he leaned back she could see his faint smile through her veil.

"I realized I too talk to the dead." He looked at her with his exquisite twilight eyes. "I started to think perhaps since you believed they could hear you. Maybe my mother could hear me too."

Faye wanted to embrace him, but stopped herself. They may have been alone but it did not mean there could not be shadows about, watching them. She crumbled her dress, she hated that she could not hold him.

"Antares Xerxes, you may be the most annoyingly beautiful, utterly thoughtful, sweetest most loving man I have ever met." The queen remarked, "But you are most certainly the densest man I will ever know."

"Of course my sister hears you!" she hit his chest. "Goddesses, all you Stygians are the same," she folded her arms in protest. "I do not know how Myrra handled you all. It is called faith. Many people do believe your stories of slaying the Gods. Others do not care, because we all have faith. The body dies yes, but not the connections we make in life. That is what binds us in the next world back to each other."

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For the briefest of moments the King of the Stygians had thought he was speaking to his mother. Freyja's face hidden behind the veil, only her golden hair, grey eyes and clear skin somewhat visible. He forced himself not to embrace her. Instead he looked down.

"It seems I still have a lot to learn from you Freyja Stormborne." He laughed and lit another prayer stick.

"You idiot if you do, then why did you go and get yourself exiled?" she bit her lower lip.

A pained smile appeared on the king's face, and both royals sat like that for some time. Each of them reminiscing on what could have been. As time passed, Faye worked up the courage to finally address what she perceived as her childish attitude the night before.

" Last night, I…" she hesitated.

"You do not need to apol-"

"I do," she declared. "I was not angry at you. Not once in five years–I have never been angry at you." She raised her hand pointing to the altar, "At the Gods yes, at your father, the Elders, Hyperion and even Nykolas as shameful as it is. But never you, because I know you." She raised her veil so he could see the honesty and confidence in her storm-silver eyes.

He wanted to kiss her.

"I know," he breathed in. "I nearly forgot but I was reminded. As you know, I am dense and all," he grinned.

"Terribly so really. It is a travesty that Iliad is stuck with such a king," she smiled. "Who reminded you?"

"Soon after you left Lady Tereza approached me." Antares could see the look of concern on Faye's face. "Do not worry, she is of the opinion private conversations between lovers should remain that way. Her words, not mine." Antares wanted to make sure Faye knew, although he was not against calling her his lover.

Neither was she.

"What did she say? What did she want?"

Freyja's interest had been piqued. She had only conversed with Lady Tereza a handful of times. She found her unsettling in a cautious way to be around. She carried a very reserved and royal air around her. Even when the Black Witch showed her kindness it was always at an arms length never allowing her to come close. Faye was not offended by it, more so curious about her connection to House Xerxes. For she knew that her ties with the ancient Stygians ran deeper than was ever alluded to by others. Such a legendary person seeking out Antares unsettled her, especially given that Antares was meant to wed that very same being's daughter. The queen could not help but wonder if Lady Tereza had gone to urge him to rescind his offer. Or more accurately, Faye secretly hoped for it.

"If you give me a moment I will tell you."

She blushed and nodded.

"Firstly she told me, 'The words of the mouth pale in comparison to the language spoken by the soul.'" He looked at her with a curled lip.

She reddened even further and nodded her head again. Faye reached for his hand and took it in both of hers. The words struck her with a sense of safety and protection. The weight of guilt and sadness lifted off her shoulders and she felt lighter again. A warm feeling passed through her.

"And the second?" she whispered.

"What she wanted or rather I suppose, she begged me to marry Princess Reza."

Faye squeezed his hand tighter, "What did you say?"

The Stygian King shrugged, "What I have told everyone who has asked me if I will or not: I have not decided yet."

Guilt threatened to return as she felt relieved by his answer.

"Everyone talks as though it is set in stone," she remarked.

Freyja recalled the conversation that had dominated the castle for many weeks prior. When the news was shared with her, she was unsure how to react to it. Admittedly what concerned her the most was that she would see Antares again. It was not until nearly several days later did she realize that he would also be betrothed to the sister of her husband. She could not even begin to fully understand what was going on and before she knew it. The man she had loved ever since she was eleven years old was in front of her. For years life had moved at a crawl and now it was at a blistering pace that she scarcely was able to keep up with.

"It is not an easy thing being the Queen of Iliad." He rubbed his chin as he thought about it. "Not everyone can tame Agincourt like yourself," he teased.

She laughed at his comment.

"Do not get me started on Agincourt," she looked away in slight anger, "I may not be a warrior but I cannot imagine the battlefield any worse."

"Just slightly," Antares laughed. "But I am surprised, I thought you enjoyed it?"

Faye looked at him with concern mixed with slight disgust. She recalled the first time she entered the hallowed hall in Castle Xerxes. It was soon after Antares had survived his trials to become a Lord of War. At the news she demanded the first ship out of port from the Storm Islands, and made her way to the famed castle. As much as she had learned and prepared, even accompanied by Antares himself she could never have expected to be in the presence of such ancient and noble Stygians.

The battlefield was waged with weapons forged of iron and Stygian Steel, magic and otherworldly powers found in their world. However, in Agincourt the only weapon that was effective was one's words. Debates and discussions ranged from all kinds of various topics. The state of consciousness, the nature of the ever changing and wild lands of Aurum and the constant political intrigue and mysticism of the nine realms. There intellect and rationale lead. This was the Stygian coliseum and Freyja Stormborne's first duel ended in complete defeat, accentuated with tears and embarrassment. Even now she could remember the cold stares of those great beings waiting for her to give her thoughts on the transient properties of the soul and the similarities it shared with water. Of which she later found out consisted of three hundred and seventy-eight parallels that had been identified. The knowledge on a range of topics the Queen of the Stygians needed to possess was nearly inhuman. She hardly managed with her studies, a time in her life she did not miss.

"Just because I was good at it, does not mean I enjoyed it," she narrowed her brow. "I do not miss those days at all."

Antares squeezed her hand, "Really? I do. You have never been as attractive as you were during those times."

"You do not think I am more attractive now?" She leaned in seductively.

"That is not what I said," the Stygian King moved her golden hair behind her ear. His eyes alternated between hers and her lips.

"So this is why the doors have not opened yet?"

Antares and Faye both jumped at the introduction of a third voice. Both of them red faced quickly rose and bowed at the direction of the High Priestess of the Temple of the Seven.

"High Priestess Tally, I-I mean we did not hear you come in!" Faye forced a laugh and bowed, she turned to her childhood friend. "This is Ant-I-I mean King Antares. One of my oldest friends, I have mentioned him before."

The High Priestess sized up the famed Stygian who had been the talk of the nine realms, "King Antares," she bowed. "It is the greatest of honors to have the Stygian King grace this holy church. What a joyous occasion, we must make this day a holy one. Do you not agree Queen Freyja?" the old priestess chuckled, her bird-like eyes with a hint of mischief in them.

The queen continued to turn a deeper red.

"Please High Priestess there is no need to tease the queen," Antares bowed. "I am to blame for the church still being closed."

The High Priestess waved her hand, "Oh do not worry, the queen does stay this long. On rare occasions she has more to say to the Gods than usual."

Antares turned to Faye with a grin and she shot him an angry look.

"It is relaxing," she puffed her cheeks in defiance.

"I have no issue with it my queen, I am only thankful the Gods are such good listeners."

"We should all thank them." The Stygian King added with a chuckle.

The High Priestess watched as Faye chastised the king for his brazen remark. It brought a smile to her face seeing the Queen of Talterra be so expressive. From the first time they encountered each other, Faye had always carried a solemn and indifferent expression to all things. The air of royalty around her was strong. Tally knew from the first time she saw her that she would be a good queen and was relieved. But seeing her now, so expressive she looked more natural. She looked over at the Stygian who she had heard countless stories about and remarked at the way he looked at the Terran Queen.

This was the union that should have happened, she knew it. She was sure all knew it, Emperor Nero and most importantly of all King Saturn himself. However she knew better than to question the actions of Nero Blackrose, that man moved in ways that would envy the Gods.

"I shall be on my way," the High Priestess wished to give them more time alone.

"You do not have to go so soon, High Priestess," Queen Freyja pleaded.

"I agree, your holiness. I must depart for the gathering of the monarchs."

"You must?" Faye turned to him taken aback.

Antares prepared to explain himself when the High Priestess interrupted.

"Thank you my royals, but I am old. Enjoy your conversations. I can imagine how long you have both looked forward to it."

Antares and Faye blushed as the holy woman walked away deeper into the temple laughing.

"As much as I wish to converse," the Stygian King reached for her hand with the back of his fingers. "I must make my way to the gathering of the monarchs. I should not be late, with my other activities for the day as well."

"I know..." She nodded with frustration as she looked away, there was still much she wanted to talk about with him.

Antares smiled and led her by her chin to meet his eyes. "However I would love it if you accompanied me. There is plenty I want to talk to you about. I will endeavor to fit as much of it in our short journey as I can."

Faye's expression lightened and she agreed. As they made their way, Antares stopped for a moment, turned back, and approached the altar. He took one final prayer stick and lit it, Freyja was some distance away but she could hear him praying in the language of thunder. No, it was closer to conversation than prayer. It happened too quickly for her to notice, but she was sure she heard Antares mention her big sister and the familiar scent of thunder and sea filled her nose. The hair on her arms and neck stood and a warm sensation passed through her. She smiled deeply, from her very soul.

When he was done, he placed the burning prayer stick by one of the candles and returned to Faye's side. As they left the church, Antares regaled her with all manner of stories over the years that they had been apart, and Freyja listened intently committed to memorizing every word.