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Fear.
That was all Andromeda felt as she laid in bed, awake. Despite her best attempts to get comfortable, her hands shook, clutching the linen sheets as she stared at the ceiling of her chambers. The visions she’d been having in her dreams for months, years, had come to fruition earlier that day. She hadn’t seen it. But she had felt it. Deep in her soul, in her chest, a heavy feeling had struck her hard, reverberated throughout her like a drum. Like a part of her had died. She didn't know what she’d see when she closed her eyes. Maybe she’d see how exactly it played out. The visions never were too specific. Maybe she’d see nothing at all.
What she didn’t expect was a memory.
Her eyes still closed, a shiver pricked her skin as a voice called out. A deep, yet juvenile voice rang through the room, seemingly giving blunt, unwanted criticism.
“You’re bad at this.”
Andromeda froze.
“It was just poor luck!” Insisted a higher voice, catching Andromeda off guard, blinking open her eyes. So it wasn't a vision, she thought to herself as she felt the cushion of the chair she was suddenly atop of. She never did like the texture of the fabric, too rough and too itchy. She had been glad her days of sitting in it watching her siblings learn was over. Now she only longed to return to those long hours. She knew where she was. She didn’t know if she’d be able to withstand it.
Looking up, she saw the rounded glass ceiling the room bore. Covered in intricate patterns and designs, they mimicked the three moons, the glowing lights in the sky. The deep purples and blues complimented the reds and browns of the almost rustic , embroidered furniture. The composition of the room was put together a long time ago, and yet it was timeless. The smell of saltwater filled the air.
At a coffee table sat two figures. Twins, though they surely didn't look it. Nor acted it. Andromeda’s younger sister and brother. Celeste and Argos. Heirs to the throne; she knew other monarchies operated on a first-born system. However when natural magic ability is applied depending on a different birth order, the hierarchy changes a bit. It complicated things they were twins. But a solution was reached; they would both rule, side by side, as a queen and king would. A logical, adequate solution.
For anyone else.
“They’re not real, you know.” Argos stated, staring at his sister’s tabletop board. Animated, magicked figures danced across his own, as well as towers and buildings. The only thing on his twin sister Celeste's was a big, red, game over screen.
“And is that what you’ll say when you send battalions off?” Retorted Celeste,” 'Oh, they’re only soldiers, you know.’ Is that what you’ll say?” an accusatory tone left her tongue as she did so. Her fist balled up, but never would she strike her brother. Or anyone, for that matter. She cared too much. Argos cared too little.
Andromeda caught something in her throat. A sinking feeling in her chest, accompanied by the warmth of nostalgia and the bitterness of recent grief. She should have seen it. She should have seen it coming. Every argument, every disagreement, every fight dismissed as typical common quarreling. Never was it properly addressed. Yes, they had punishments such as grounding and lectures, but that only made their rivalry quiet. Hidden. Cunning and cold. How they made up after each fight never lasted. She should have expected what it would turn out to be. This must be why she was being reminded of this seemingly inconsequential memory; to lecture her what she’d done wrong. What she could have done differently. It was only fair. But it stung.
The game the twins were playing was simple- a simulation of ruling over a kingdom, of course with less consequence than the real deal. Meant to train them and show them strategy, balance, and all other things a ruler must learn from experience. Every few minutes, a new card would be drawn, and a random event based upon prior decisions would be read out loud. It could range from something as minute as a flower in the palace garden wilting, to a plague ravaging your lands, to an enemy empire declaring war. That was what had happened to Celeste.
“Obviously not. Don't be foolish,” Argos replied calmly, “Soldiers are worth more than that. They’re useful. And if you’re stupid with it and run out, it’s game over.” He paused for just a moment to glance at celeste’s board, her kingdom pillaged as she had refused to play the offense or draft too many into her army when it was, in her brother’s opinion (and admittedly, Andromeda’s as well,) the best, most obvious choice. “Of course, an army is only as useful as their commander.”
Celeste stared back at him, piecing together how to respond. It had been awhile since Andromeda had seen her with such an expression. Where had that fiery sass gone, she wondered. In recent times, all she’d seen her younger sister radiate was gloom. She supposed people changed when they became adults with real responsibility, especially bearing the weight of an empire, even if that burden is shared. After all, in this memory they’re late teenagers. Present day, Celeste even has a six year old child. Andromeda thought of Crescent; would he understand what had happened? She didn't know whether she hoped he did or didn’t.
“Why do we even have to play this idiotic game?” Spat celeste as she stood up. Looking to Andromeda, she queried “All the other kingdoms have fallen. There’s no war. There's no purpose to this. Everybody is happy and nothing bad will happen if we just keep it that way!”
Andromeda had no response. She wasn’t really here anyway- only in a dream of a distant memory. But she must have responded in the past, because the girl replied as if she had.
“That’s a stupid reason! Who would do that? We have a surplus of food, water, and shelter. So long as we keep it that way our subjects will live fruitful lives and our reign will run smoothly!” Celeste shouted, and it took no genius to tell she was frustrated. It need not be pointed out, but of course Argos just couldn’t resist.
“Are you weak enough to be upset over a game?” He said apathetically, rising to his feet to match his sister. He was shorter than her, but he always made up for it with the bite in his words. “And- if reason really need be- have you considered you cannot make everyone happy? You can't have a smooth reign with no bumps. No matter how kind you treat the populace there will always be some who hate you. Simply for your position in the palace. Or decisions you had to make between one ultimatum and another.”
“Bite your tongue, you unfeeling trash!” Celeste’s volume began to rise, “ At least I care for them! Do not think for a moment I don't notice how you talk about them, as if you are better than them, as if they are expendable, a nuisance that happens to accompany your position of power. If a whole city was to fall, you’d only think of how it would affect the others politically. Never would you shed a tear for someone below you. Or equal to you, for that matter!” She now shouted, her voice echoing throughout the room. All three were silent, for a moment. For she had spoken the truth. The only sound being the call of three crows somewhere outside the window, a match to the three inside and an omen that needs no explanation. The first time they had lived through this, Andromeda thought to herself, none of them had taken notice of the birds. She wished someone had.
Breaking his collected facade, Argos loudly retaliated, pointing accusingly, his foot digging into the blue carpet they both stood on. “You care too much for lives that don’t matter! We both know we’ve grown up spoiled, and yet! I still have the common sense to know not to trust a scammer with a sob story. You, on the other hand, would gladly hand over the throne to anybody who’d had a semblance of a bad day. I hope you choke on faerie food, you whiny, crying, piece of-”
He was cut off by a sound from the table. All three siblings looked down.
Red text, across Argos’s board. Game over. Upon further inspection, his citizens had up risen due to high taxes, low rations, and all around cutting corners.
“Well.” Was all he could say in response, crossing his arms. Though trying to force his calm persona, there was no denying a grimace crossed his face.
“Looks like neither of our strategies were the best, were they brother?” Celeste replied sarcastically, thinking back to her own over-conservation of population and its happiness.
Argos only glared silently in return. A few moments passed before he finally cleared his throat and spoke up, admitting his fault once in a blue moon. “Perhaps.” He looked down at his board, only with his eyes as he kept his chin up. “I suppose that answers why we play these, then?” He cocked his head to the side, awaiting her response.
“I suppose so. Truce?” She held her hand out, open, for him to shake. He looked her up and down skeptically, before sighing.
“Truce.”
If only that truce could last forever, Andromeda thought as she awakened, alone. More alone than she had ever felt.
Three becomes four becomes three once again.
Her sister had been slaughtered.