Genesis

The wind's whistle and rough seas drowned out each footstep as she walked up the gangplank and onto the nearly empty ship. It was very late, but a light was still on in the captain's cabin. That was where she found the man asleep, his head laying on the desk amongst scattered papers. He'd been working on something before he fell asleep.

Something he'd now never finish. Chantilly smiled and quietly drew a small blade from her sash, then deftly stepped behind the man. A floorboard creaked and he woke with a start - but it was too late.

Blood spurted from the gash along his neck. His eyes grew wide and then distant as he began to lose conscious sight of his assassin. Then he fell forward, his head back onto the desk, as he had been before - only now the blood dripped and began to pool on the desk, soaking the papers and dripping down to the floor. Drip... drip... drip... drip...

Chantilly yelled out at the dream, waking herself up. She was coated in sweat and felt deeply ill, and she stumbled outside to hang her head over the side of her boat and violently expelled the contents of her stomach.

"Visions out of control again?" a voice came from behind her.

Chantilly pulled her head back from the balcony, then turned around and sank to the ground in disorientation and pain. "Not a good time, queen," Chantilly muttered.

"Look at you. You're pathetic," the queen chastised. "Do you really prefer this to letting me help you?"

"If you wanted to help, you'd bring what I need instead of taunting me."

The queen sighed, then knelt down next to Chantilly, setting a bottle on the ground. "There. Laudanum. But you cannot keep using more and more of it to silence your mind. It will kill you. You know that."

"Thanks for the reminder," Chantilly said sarcastically, opening the bottle and sniffing it uncertainly before taking a sip.

"Your lack of interest in self-preservation is disgusting," the queen scolded.

Chantilly shrugged. "My choices are rather limited."

"I told you, if you would just let them come it would be easier. Stifling them out is only causing more pain." She motioned towards Chantilly's rapidly graying hair. "You don't have much time if you continue like this."

"And the alternative is to become like you?" Chantilly spat. "Styling myself like some omnipotent goddess, mistress of past and future? What kind of life is that?"

"One that fits us if we wish to live very long."

Chantilly shook her head. "That isn't what I want."

"You want to let your friend O'Flynn watch you slowly die instead?" Chantilly's eyes opened a little wider in surprise. "Yes, I know that you told him about your prophecy. You shouldn't saddle him with such things," the queen continued. "He's likely to do something stupid someday to try and save you from yourself."

"Since when do you worry about my friends?"

"Actually, I don't. I care about you. But so does this O'Flynn boy. That means we have similar goals." The queen gave Chantilly an amused look. "Why couldn't you have fallen for him instead of that damnable deMontfort?"

Chantilly's eyes narrowed. "Emile said you've been bothering him. Leave him alone."

"My speaking with him, that bothers you, does it?" The queen raised an eyebrow.

"I know what you're capable of. Stay away from him."

The queen laughed. "My my, so it is what I thought. You do still care for the Marquis de Misery."

"It isn't like that," Chantilly growled.

"Of course not." The queen snickered. "So are you protecting him from me? Or from yourself?"

"Do you have something else you want, queen? Because if the answer's no, I want you to get off my ship," Chantilly snapped, her anger spilling over.

The queen stood up again and turned to walk away. "As you wish, Celestine. Just know that when you are ready to give up this foolishness, I will be ready."