This is from a writing exercise for a class I took this summer. We used the Steam Punk Tarot deck and you had to pull three cards and write a scene. Mine were Protagonist Queen of Swords, situation Seven of Cups, Action Seven of Swords. Enjoy!
Heart of the Land
The Queen stood at her balcony, looking over the land with dread. Now that the Heart of the Land was dead, it would not flourish until another took on the role. Once beautiful, the queen saw blighted fields. The treasury was opened so that the small folk could survive the year until the choosing next spring. Now the Queen’s heart was as sick as her land, with the moment she could not forget.
Queen Allyria was only a few years on the throne after the tragic death of her parents. Her Heart had been her comfort in her grief, but a queen is not allowed to grieve long. Too soon, suitors had sought her hand. Too soon, families of the right blood with a bachelor of the right age wet their lips.
Who would be king? Who wanted to be the right hand of a young queen?
But she scorned and rejected one. The one who all her advisors said she should marry. And now, as she looked over her spoiled land, she knew she should feel regret.
Unfortunately for the lord duke, she did not.
“You cut out my heart,” the Duke had said, raising his bloodied blade, “So I cut the Heart of the Land.”
Stricken, Queen Allyria had raced to the bloody body of Ella. Ella, her prime advisor who had known how to make wasteland fertile. Ella, who had studied under her family, and knew how to pull the threads together of magick, nature, and knowledge that kept Allyria’s kingdom safe and prosperous.
Ella, the witch who was the Heart of the Land, who kept their land healthy and safe.
Ella, Queen Allyria’s lover.
As the queen held her dear lover she saw the light fade from Ella’s eyes. Only then did she unfreeze. Please, it had to be here. The cup, the potion. Please, by all the gods above and below, Ella could not die.
Maybe gods listened to some prayers and not others. Maybe the world was just cruel. Maybe the potion of life would not have saved Ella.
A new Heart would be chosen. Until then, the land would weep.
Before then, Allyria would have her vengeance.
The duke thought his army would be enough. He thought a young queen would be broken by the death of her lover. That she would be helpless.
The duke thought wrong.
Queen Allyria seized the sword from behind the throne. Her dead lover’s blood was still on her hands, filling her with rage. No guards, no servants, it was just the queen and the duke.
The Duke’s head hung over the blighted land, waiting for the spring and a new Heart to be chosen.