12th Night

Chapter 1- The Story of the Blacks

I awoke to the sound of a gentle voice singing a harmoniously melody so sweet and soft to the ear, yet so sad. I lay still with my eyes closed, letting the music lure me into its depths. At length, I opened my eyes, searching for the person to whom the beautiful voice might have belonged to. Upon finding no one, I finally rose from the comfort of the fluffy mattress and soft velvet sheets to begin my pursuit of the voice-bearer, wondering where I was. The song still played.

I walked around the large room only to find it void of anything save the bed I’d been sleeping upon. I walked through the room again, wrapping my bottle-green dress tightly around me as I shivered. I hurried along until I came upon a door, heavy and wooden, complete with a large iron handle. I carefully, silently pushed open the door and walked out into a stone corridor.

The corridor was much like the ones back home, with its flickering torches mounted on walls and the large stones making up both the walls and the floor. I headed down the corridor in the direction in which the voice seemed to be coming from. I realized that the song was one that was different from the tune that I’d heard back in the other room. As I drew nearer, I could make out the lyrics.

There is a castle on a cloud,

I like to go there in my sleep,

Aren't any floors for me to sweep,

Not in my castle on a cloud.

There is a room that's full of toys,

There are a hundred boys and girls,

Nobody shouts or talks too loud,

Not in my castle on a cloud.

There is a lady all in white,

Holds me and sings a lullaby,

She's nice to see and she's soft to touch,

She says, "Cosette, I love you very much."

I know a place where no one's lost,

I know a place where no one cries,

Crying at all is not allowed,

Not in my castle on a cloud.

I paused, letting the melody sink in again. It was beautiful spreading warmth from the top of my head to my cold, bare feet, then to the tips of my freezing fingers. I sighed in pleasure, thinking of children happily running around castles in clouds and with no tears. Suddenly, the music came to a halt and I was abruptly jolted out of my thoughts. Fantasies, rather, I corrected myself.

Once again, I started to creep forward, hugging the walls until I came upon a large opening, well lit and very warm. I noticed that a fire was thriving and that there were several women. Maids, they looked like, talking quietly amongst themselves. Yet, the music that had started again seemed to drown out the chatter. One by one, they ceased talking and became as entranced by the melody as I had been only a little while ago. I silently walked past the room, unnoticed by its occupants, back into the cold of the stone.

After another few minutes had passed, I came upon another opening. This time it was dark, with a feeling of foreboding. I hurried past it without a backward glance. After yet another few minutes, I came upon a third opening, this one sealed by a door similar to the room I’d been in. At hearing the music stop once again, I cautiously pushed open the large wooden obstacle.

Inside, it was dimly lit by a few torches and candles. It was bare, save for a large wooden table with a bowl of a steaming something on top of it and a few chairs. By this table stood a young, pretty woman; a heavenly glow surrounding her face due to the flickering candles. A harp lay beside her. With her soft golden curls set against her creamy white floor-length dress and green eyes, she truly was a beauty. As I entered, she glanced upwards at me, and then did a double take.

She looked at me, puzzlement written all over her face, as I walked slowly towards her. She took in my wavy black hair and bottle green dress. I smiled. She continued to stare at me. My smile flickered. By this time, I’d reached her.

“You have pretty eyes,” she said, looking straight into my lavender eyes.

I was a bit taken aback. “Th- Thank you.”

She nodded. “Would you like to eat with me?” she asked, gesturing to the bowl of the ardent liquid.

I shook my head. She nodded. “But do accompany me whilst I eat.”

“All right.”

She took a seat in front of the bowl while I sat opposite her.

“My name is Annie.”

“Adrienne,” I replied. She looked at me curiously. “Was it you that was singing?”

“Yes. Did I wake you up?”

“That’s all right.”

“Ohh. I am sorry.”

“It’s all right. Really, it is.”

“So, Adrienne. How old are you?”

“I’m 16.”

She paused. Then she nodded politely. “So you will be in the eleventh group? Same as me.”

“Ehh- I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about.”

She nodded politely again. “You are new here?”

“Well... To be honest with you, I really don’t know where I am.”

“You do not know where you are?” she asked, sounding incredulous. I shook my head. “We are in the Black Castle.”

“The what castle?”

“Black. The ancient family of Blacks. King Black and his legendary daughter. Have you never heard the stories?”

I shook my head.

“I presume you have heard of the King. Well, this is how the story goes. One day, the King’s wife was told that she would die giving birth to her child. She was very vain and did not want to die, but the King, hoping the child would be a boy so he could have an heir, made her keep the child. The queen, vowing to hate the child that would cause her to die, placed a curse on her child. A most exotic curse; when he turned sixteen, he would kill the first person he touches on every twelfth night.

“But the Queen had given birth to a girl. And miraculously, she had survived. She originally had every intention of taking the curse off her daughter, but the birth had taken a humongous strain of her health and she was under strict orders to not do any magic until she was well. But then, the Black Death hit. It killed the Queen no sooner than a month after the birth of her daughter. Right after the Queen passed away, the King, who along with his daughter had survived the plague, took charge of the young child himself, teaching her all that a man should know.

“Eventually, the King too passed away of grief when his daughter mysteriously disappeared after a ball. He looked everywhere for her but no one seemed to have remembered seeing her. It was surprising that no one remembered her as she had the most exotic colored eyes.”

My stomach twisted fearfully. The story sounded familiar. Too familiar.

“And what color were they?” I asked, filled with dread.

“Lavender.”

“And- And what was the daughter’s name?”

“Adrienne. Adrienne Black.”

A/N: ‘Castle on a Cloud’ is from Les Miserables. So how was it? If I receive at least 5 supportive reviews I’ll continue... otherwise... not...

Hope you liked it. It’s my first story on fictionpress.

Special thanks to Telwyn Dubois for beta-ing this.

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Arista Ramabra