once upon your dead body.
"Close your eyes," Florence cooed as her fingers slipped underneath the bandages that wrapped tightly around my head and over my eyes. The rough fabric scratched against my skin as the bandages fell to my shoulders. The light of the room beated down on my tightly closed eyes, causing the back of my lids to turn a blood shot red.
"I rather dislike changing my bandages," I mumbled, pressing my fingers against the imprints the cloth had left on my forehead. "Why couldn't we do this in the dark?"
Florence chuckled as she shifted in her seat. Her chuckle was forced, a strain in the back of her throat. I could hear the folds of clothes and the creak of the chair as she placed the bandages on the table beside us. "We need to train your eyes to be accustomed to the light. They're so sensitive. You can feel it, right?" Her voice was soft and light. It was almost feathery, so light that the wind could easily drown her voice. It annoyed me.
"It hurts," I said plainly, placing my hands into my lap. "Can I read papa's letters?"
I waited as Florence pressed the papers into my hands. Holding them close to my chest, I stood and stumbled across the room, not wanting Florence to get a glimpse of the letters that papa had wrote me.
Sitting in the middle of the room, I ran my fingers across the raised letters.
My dear Europa,
I will make this blunt. The empress is dying. With her gone and me in exile, the empire will look to you for a new ruler. Her frail body and mind were never suited for the role of a leader but even though you will be the next Empress, I feel that you are too young. Many will hate you. Many will not accept you. But to the majority, anyone is better than Empress Florence.
Pausing, I looked up to the ceiling, feeling the warm light bathe my face. Papa had written this letter years ago while my aunt Florence was incredibly ill. Everyone thought she was dying. Everyone around me prepared me to become the new Empress. There was talk about how a mere child could not take on this task of the Empress. My already fragile health was a main concern among the empire. Despite what they said, during that time, the thought of being Empress swirled around my mind, but then she miraculously recovered. My dreams were washed away.
Clutching the papers, I took a deep breath. Tonight, my dreams would reawaken.
"Empress! We have received word that the Truasians are invading the Britannian seaport," a loud voice boomed unexpectedly, heavy steps crashing against the cold floor. "There's an estimate of around 2 000 soldiers armed with—"
"Send in all the men you have at the post," Florence said wearily. I imagined her waving her hand, dismissing the man. My throat constricted at the news. Britannian Seaport was my hometown. It was the only place I had seen. Truasians. They were a race of humans that were Britannia's slaves. Just recently, the empire had started bringing them from Earth over to Mars. It was unnerving that there was already unrest among them. Everyone despised them.
"But my Lord, they nu—" the man protested.
"Silence!" Florence screeched. "Do as I say."
The man sighed. It was a deep sigh, like a father dealing with his unruly son. "Yes, my Lord." Turning around, he carried himself out the door.
"Auntie Florence, they are in possession of nuclear weapons," I cried out, still holding the letters close to my chest. I kept my head bowed, uncertain of where she was. "We can't have the risk of another nuclear disaster like on Earth."
Scoffing, she stood up. All sweetness in her voice had been drained away. "Why do you think the Britannian Empire is the leader of the Two Worlds? We control every single piece of land on Earth, and here on Mars. They wouldn't dare oppose the empire. Do you really think Truasians have nuclear weapons? They are too stupid to handle weapons. They're ignorant. They know nothing."
I felt her presence near me. The hot air radiated from her warm body. Her fingers grasped at my scalp, forcing me onto my feet and causing the letters to fall from my hands. The papers fluttered to the floor. Florence sneered in my ear, "I would never want you as my successor. You're just like them. Filthy Truasian."
She pushed me down to the ground. Quickly, I blindly reached for the papers that were scattered across the floor. "I'm not a Truasian," I mumbled, bringing the papers in my lap.
"How do you know? Have you ever seen yourself?"
I paused and took a deep breath in. The only thing I could remember seeing was my father's face against the background of wide blue sea. Nowhere in my memory, was another face.
"Your father married a Truasian. Why do you think he was exiled? When my father died, everyone accused your father of conspiring with the Truasians to kill him. You aren't even his child," Florence continued on. "Your mother spilled chemicals on your eyes so you wouldn't be able to see who you were. Then she left you."
My brain tried to process the information. I couldn't think of anything to refute her. It was true, I never met my mother. I never even thought twice about her, but this new information made me wonder why I had never asked.
Finally, I put my head up to the ceiling. "You're lying," was all I could manage to say. I shakily stood up to my feet. Walking out of the room, I kept a firm hand against the walls, as it seemed it was the only thing I knew for certain was real.
I laid my head against the soft down of my blankets. Never had I liked Florence. She seemed too sweet and too innocent. I hated her even more for telling me all this, but it only made my victory even sweeter.
Reaching into my pillow, I retrieved the tiny flask of liquid that I had acquired a few months ago. Slowly, I twisted off the cork and smelled the contents. It was sweet and sugary, almost like honey, but there was a trace of bitterness.
I took the cup of honey tea that sat on my night stand. My fingers shook as I poured the liquid into the cup.
The sounds of gun shot rung through the air. They were watching the news. Some idiotic fool was capturing live footage at the Seaport. The increasingly loud chants of foreign words made my stomach churn. I knew who was winning by the soft sobs of the empress.
Soon enough, I found myself beside her heaving body. My eyes barely pried open. I saw the fuzzy glow of the TV, a blur of moving colours.
"I'm sorry auntie," I whispered, cupping the tea in my hands. "I made some tea to make you feel better."
As soon as she took the cup from me, I turned around and slowly walked to my bedroom. With every step, my eyes cracked open a bit more, the colours formed shapes, and the objects becoming sharper and sharper. I heard a sudden crash and cries.
"Ms Europa Soreley," I said out loud to myself. "You are now empress."