Archetype: the fallen

having dropped or come down from a higher place, from an upright position, or from a higher level, degree, amount, quality, value, number, etc.; degraded or immoral.; (of a woman) having lost her chastity.; overthrown, destroyed, or conquered; dead.

The Black Queen moved closer to the window. The day was foggy and cold; she couldn’t see the dead trees bellow her. The weather matched her mood; cold and angry. She had reached that point where the flames of her anger had been burned out and now its ashes turned into ice. Her anger did not fuel everything fuel moment anymore, but rather had made her breathing slow and painful. She had lost and anger made her bitter.

The Black Queen was beautiful and powerful. Or at least she was both till a younger princess stepped inside her castle. She could do a lot of things while she reigned, she was resourceful and full of energy. She could feed a thousand people out of her hand for a hundred days if she wanted to. She could expand her territory by a single snap of her fingers. She could weave the most unexpected plans and make her enemies suffer; everyone dreaded her, fear was connected with her name. She ruled with an iron fist and covered up her actions with honeyed words. Everyone loved her and hated, and they despaired about that. She was the best Queen this Queendom ever needed.

But she had to come along and make her fall. The fall was fast but not without a fight. The Black Queen liked to think that her fallen was that of a shooting star. It was bright and warm; all across the seas people could admire her last efforts to keep her Queendom from the hands of the little foolish woman. She had put up an angry fight, hot and strong, equal to the bright and plentiful years of her reign. She was called the Black Queen, and now that she fell she felt for the first time like that. The drop from her high throne had killed and she was afraid to admit it even to herself. She was afraid to admit that she hoped she could learn to fly; she could whisper it only to herself. Not that it mattered anymore; there was no one there for her to tell her secret anymore. She felt small and tired. During her nineteen years rule, the Black Queen never felt like that. Now melancholy was in heart, and the weather matched her mood so well.

The Black Queen could not see the ground, but she wondered, how far away it was? She had tried to learn to fly and she failed. She had fallen from higher up, and the fall had left her broken and disgraced. Maybe, this time she could fly, she could learn to survive in a different world than the one she was used to. She pushed open the window and sat on the cold marble ledge. Maybe she could learn to fly and go and sit on the dead trees of the garden. There she could start a new Queendom, where all the birds would bow to her and she would take care of them. She would important again and no one would ever think that she was degraded. She would be perfect again, shining and hot. She would be the Queen of the birds.

Maybe she had learned to fly after all.

AN: Inspired by the 8track mix “Archetype: The Fallen” by selenne. Check it out here.


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