The Witch Queen

I am a nameless face,

A faceless name.

I forgot my name so long ago,

I forgot what my face looks like.

I’ve not a clue how my voice sounds.

Maybe it was thick

Like sweet,

Raw honey.

Maybe it was soft,

Floating through the air

Like a bird

Carrying itself on fragile wings.

I cannot remember the time

I’ve spent in this cold,

Dark place.

All I can remember is what sent me here.

I was a queen.

The people loved me,

And I loved them.

I loved the gardens sprawling across

Acres and acres

Of fertile land.

I loved the royal horses

And riding over the meadows,

Through the forests,

Visiting those who I loved.

But the thing I loved the most,

The one thing I could not

Live without,

Was my King.

He stole me away from a

Horrid little tower

In the east.

He won me from the orcs,

The Deformed Elves,

The Cursed Ones.

He fought a war to drive them

Into the

Depths

From whence they came,

And at the end,

He found me,

A young woman,

Locked away in a dungeon.

He rescued me

And let me live in his castle,

Gave me food and wine.

For the first time I tasted

Sweet cherries,

Salted pork,

And bitter ale.

I was happy.

And then the orcs came back.

Stronger and faster,

They seethed in their abyss

For years,

Their hatred swelling

And granting them powers

We hadn’t seen before.

They shot Black Magic

From their fingertips,

Their screams made the

Soldiers’ ears bleed.

Their bows shot straight

Through fleshy bodies,

Leaving gaping holes

So that beating hearts would

Fall to the dirt.

They demanded their maiden back.

I was to be their

Salvation,

The way out of their

Wretched lives.

They would use me to create

A better bloodline,

To breed with the

Elite orcs,

The High Priests.

But my King refused.

He fought,

And fought,

And fought,

Because he loved me.

I was his Queen,

His one and only.

Until I couldn’t give him

A Son.

Time and time again,

Try after try,

I gave him only daughters

Or I nothing at all.

He killed the ones he found,

And sought the ones

I hid.

He had become a madman,

Obsessed with an heir

To carry on his

Blood

And wars.

Though I begged and pleaded

For him to see

Reason,

He never did.

And so,

When he had enough of my

Soiled Womb,

He sent me for execution.

The murder flew above my head,

Cawing and clawing

For death.

The Executioner stood

With his

Bloody Axe,

And he struck a

Mighty blow

Meant to send my head

Rolling.

But before his fell swoop

Could fall,

One of those devilish arrows

Pierced his skull,

Grey matter spilling

Before the crowd

Come to watch the

Witch Queen

Die.

A black curtain blocked

The sky

As the arrows rained

Down upon the King’s

Loyal subjects.

Most were dead before

They could

Scream.

I was shot

Three times over,

But never wounded.

The arrows passed through me,

The gapes stung

Like the tiniest scorpion,

But they healed.

The King fled.

Orcs climbed the walls,

Their grey skin gleaming with sweat.

“My Lady”

The leader said

“We are here to take you home.”

I went

For I had nowhere else to go.

I was to be hunted

Throughout the kingdom

Until my head was presented

To my Husband.

His fury could be felt

Across the land

For months.

As we crossed

Those Hellish gates

Into the Realm of the Orcs

My daughters stood,

Crying,

Rejoicing at their

Mother’s return.

Their skin had turned grey,

Their eyes a deep violet,

Unlike the orcs’ muddied

Yellow and orange.

“It’s their blood”

He said.

“You have given us hope,

Your Majesty.

Our redemption lies

Within you.”

I nodded my head.

I did not care

What my fate was then,

I only wanted

The King

To feel what I had felt,

To cry how I had cried,

To suffer how I had

Suffered.

And he did.

I gave the Orcs

Their bloodlines.

My daughters became

Generals,

My sons became

Warriors

Under their command.

I ruled them all.

The King,

Enraged at my new,

Powerful offspring,

Made the servant girls

Give him sons.

They,

Too,

Had nothing but daughters to give.

He killed them,

And strewn their bodies

On the castle walls.

Until the last,

A sixteen year old

Girl,

Finally birthed a son.

I waited.

And one day,

On the Son of the King’s

Twenty-first birthday,

I sent my legions

Crashing all the way

To his doorstep.

On the King’s deathbed,

His son fought nobly to

Defend his father’s

Honor.

But he died

Like the rest of them.

Bloodied and broken,

I dragged him to his

Sniveling father’s chambers.

I slit his throat

Before he could say

A word.

The only Son of

The King died,

And as I looked into my

Once-lover’s eyes,

His soul shattered.

I never felt so satisfied.

I spit in his face,

Beat him until he was

A bloody mass

Of pulp and bones.

I was powerful.

The Orc Magic slithered

Through my veins.

I could have cast

The whole world

Into an inferno of

Decay and nothingness.

But I was done.

I was satisfied.

My deed was finished,

And I left my daughters

To their new

Empire.

My sons followed them

Willingly,

Pledged to follow

The Royal Queens

Until the end of time.

I left.

I slank away

To a secluded cave

At the edge of the

Earth.

No one came looking,

They knew I was gone.

As I scribble my story

On this cave wall

I reminisce

And cry.

The worst place to be

Is not here.

It was not

With the King.

The worst place

I have ever known

Is the utter

Hopelessness

Of losing my children.

Not once,

But twice.

So here I am,

No regrets,

But rage

And sorrow

And longing.

I have no voice,

No name,

No face.

I will die a faceless name

And

A nameless face.