Evanescence ~ Elektra's Journal

Subject: Evanescence ~ Elektra's Journal Tue Nov 24, 2009 3:23 am

Evanescence
~Memoirs of an Ice Queen: A nightingale in a golden cage. Locked inside reality's maze~

When leaves have fallen
And skies turned to grey.
The night keeps on closing in on the day
A nightingale sings his song of farewell
You better hide from her freezing hell

On cold wings she's coming
You better keep moving
For warmth, you'll be longing
Come on just feel it
Don't you see it?
You better believe.

When she embraces
And your heart turns to stone
She comes at night when you're all alone
And when she whispers
Your blood shall run cold
You better hide before she finds you

Whenever she is raging
She takes all life away
Haven't you seen?
Haven't you seen?
The ruins of our world.

Whenever she is raging
She takes all life away
Haven't you seen?
Haven't you seen?
The ruins of our whole world?

She covers the earth with a breathtaking cold
The sun awakes and melts it away
The world now opens it's eyes and sees
The dawning of a new day

On cold wings she's coming
You better keep moving
For warmth, you'll be longing
Come on just feel it
Don't you see it?
You better believe.

Whenever she is raging
She takes life away
Haven't you seen?
Haven't you seen?
The ruins of our world

Whenever she is raging
She takes life away
Haven't you seen?
Haven't you seen?
The ruins of our world...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

Elektra, Age 7

My name is Elektra Kallisto Lorelei Kohva of Caraklein, born to their royal majesties King Strenver-Kagarkos and Queen Zoeycite. This journal was given to me by my Father in honor of my seventh year upon Gaia.

I am the seventh and youngest child of their children, as well as their favorite child. Often doth my maid Vellamo chastise me, or attempt to chastise me, I should say, for saying such a thing. But I pay no heed to her. After all, she is nothing more than a born slave whose family Father captured years ago when he invaded the old Kingdom of Drasford, claiming it as Caraklein Territory, while I am a Princess, born to rights she can only dream of.

I am a Princess, and she is nothing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

(Various entries, drawings, and music compositions fill the pages)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

Elektra, Age 13

For as long as I could remember, my Mother and Father have told me that someday when I am grown, I shall be married to Prince Adrastos, heir to the throne of Secoelt. I shall be his Queen and together, our union will secure an everlasting alliance between the two Kingdoms that have for centuries fought each other to the death. While I knew that my parents shall never lie to me, it is only this day that the future as become my reality.

Today I have met my betrothed: Prince Adrastos. He along with his Father and a few members of the Secoeltian Court came to visit us and spend the Yule Tide here in Caraklein. While I loath to admit it, I was rather... intrigued... by the Prince's prescence, though I hid it well behind a mask of indifference. However, much to Father's pleasure, the Prince was not nearly as schooled in such acts of deception as I was, for he wore his heart on his sleeve, and bore his emotions in his grey orbs.

My sisters were fuming with envy at the frequent looks that Adrastos shot towards me, gazing upon my form and features with intense interest, particularly Belylia. One cannot blame the girl, though, for being envious. After all, Prince Adrastos is 19 seasons of age, while Belylia is 17 seasons. By right, it should be her who is Prince Adrastos' betrothed and future Queen. Oft, I wondered why t'was I who was chosen, and once asked my Father why out of my three sisters, I was the one King Farvardin chose for his son. His reply was rather blunt, as Father is not a man who wanders around the glaciers, unless it suits him. There, in front of all, my siblings and the royal court, he reached his hand to my face raising it so that our matching orbs met, and said in his kind, affection laced voice. "Because you, glacia, are the most beautiful of all my daughters, as well as the sharpest. Tis only natural for a Father to want the best for his son, is it not?"

I could feel the envious orbs of my sisters, and felt a surge of superiority course through me. Not even the Gods themselves could stop me from turning around and smirking at them. I was the best. My father, one of the most difficult men in the world to please had stated right there in front of everyone that I was the best.

I am the best, and because of that, I will be Queen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

Elektra, Age 15

Sorrow and shock holds my hand, mind, and heart hostage, parylyzing me into a state of uselessness, but I shall try to overcome.

It's over...

Count Fersen, Caraklein's Ambassador and one of Father's Advisors returned from Secoelt, bearing news of Adrastos. Adrastos, heir to the throne of Secoelt, my own betrothed who holds my hand and future is dead.

At the moment I am in bed, ill with fear. Upon hearing the words of my doom, I lost consciousness, fainting unto the floor, only to wake in my room, alone. Everything, all I have ever wished for, all I have ever planned for, all I have ever dreamed of, is gone.

I am finished.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

Elektra, Age 16

Count Fersen has returned once more, this time from a voyage from Alrania, a Kingdom quite far from Caraklein, bathed in the hot, treacherous sun. He bore rather... interesting... news.

Forgo, what I have said. What the Count relayed as absolute paska! He proposed to my Father that I marry a Duke of Alrania. A Duke! I looked to my Father expectantly, assuming he would be outraged with the proposal as I was, only to see him actually contemplating the offer!

As though my Father's thoughtfulness were some sort of signal, the Count immediately produced a photo of the Duke. Or the Duke's son, I should say. Though the Count assures me that the Duke is near the end of his life, so it shan't be long now before my would-be betrothed becomes the Duke.

I had never felt so ill in my life as I did when my eyes met those of the man wanting my hand. He, Charlemagne, looks old, despite the Count's claims it is a mere twenty year difference between us. I felt so nauseated by the thought of it all, I had to excuse myself for fear that I would be ill in front of the Count and Father.

Now here I am, curled into bed, praying to the Gods that Father will refuse and I shall be saved.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

I have been betrayed. Betrayed and forsaken by all who I once held dear. Father decided to take the Duke's offer of marriage, sealing my fate once and for all. I begged and pleaded, even going to my knees, weeping for him to reconsider but he brushed me off, telling me it was my only hope, and to be grateful.

Grateful? Why must I be grateful that some measly Duke of a Foreign land wished to marry me? Was it not my Father himself who said I was the best? That I was the fairest and prized gem of all of Caraklein? Or was that, like all that he's ever told me, lies?

On the day before I was to leave for Atticuss, he approached me, begging me to see reason, and forgive him. He was met with the fiercest glare I could conjure, one, ironically, he taught me myself, and pulled away from him.

I hate him. I shall never forgive, and never forget. He will pay for this, one day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

Once more, I have been deceived. It is not the Duke's son I am to marry, but the ancient Duke himself. The Count, who accompanied me on my voyage, swears that he was not aware of this plan. In fact, it was a last minute arrangement between my Father and the Duke.

Atticuss is even worse than I could ever have imagined! It is right beside the ocean shore, under the unmerciful sun. Carakleinians do not fare well at all under the Sun nor sunlight, as Caraklein was always covered in snow, located at the heart of the iciest terrain in all of Gaia. The complete change in temperature and unending sunlight is almost as nauseating and painful as it is to know that I am indeed married to the Duke, or Posol, as he asks me to call him.

No one seems to understand that I physically cannot stay outside, or even leave the darkness and "coldness" of my rooms. They neither understand, nor care of the pain I feel, not to mention the wavering vision I am contantly experiencing as a result. Anyone with any sense of geography would know of condition, though considering what I've learned of the family I have now married into, none seemed to be half as educated as they should have been. In fact, if all were true, they were all nothing but peasants who had somehow managed to rise up the ranks.

For so long, I imagined marriage and married life to be the path to success, love, happiness. Not to mention children... I shudder and resist the urge to vomit, from the mere thought of his children. I can't even stand the thought or sight of his own son. Not that I'd have anything to fear in regards to bearing his children. In fact, I view it as rather amusing, agonizing irony that the fool married me to bear him heirs, when he himself is impotent. Yet despite his age being the true poison in his inability to beget children, it is I who receives the blame, assaulted with accusations that I am sterile. I open my mouth to sharply reply, only to have either his hand or cane strike me, often knocking me over. Never have I been struck. Not even when I truly deserved it in my Father's court.

I wish I was dead...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

(Contains various arguments and episodes of domestic violence between the Duke and Elektra, spanning over several months*)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

His name is Iago and he arrived recently from the Barony of Danothos. From the moment his obsidian orbs met my own blue ones, I felt there was something... more... to him than meets the eye. And I do not mean the dark magic I could sense from him. No, that aura was quite pronounced when he entered. No, what I speak of is something different. Something I have never felt before...

As was Posol's nature, he held a Welcoming Ball, in Iago's honor. He often held celebrations, normally for the simplest of reasons as he was a fond of festivities, however this time, I showed much more enthusiasm than all the other Balls he has held, combined. I hoped that in the midst of everyone's firvolity, I would have a moment alone with Iago so that we may have a chance to speak privately, away from the glaring public eye, and become familiar with each other.

Unfortunately, I was to be denied, for Posol felt the need to command all of Iago's attention, engaging him in dull, meaningless conversation, leaving me to do little more than stare at him, behind the mask of indifference that I had schooled myself in for so long. However, the mask had one major flaw: while any hint of my emotions upon my face were concealed, my eyes were left in the open, free to be read by anyone and all. Especially when I danced, for as my body moved in time to the rhythm, my eyes never strayed from the obsidian orbs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

I have found my Savior, and my Hero.

Today, as usual, Posol and I began to argue, for what I felt to be the most trivial of reasons. He wished to go sailing today, along the sea. As usual, he wanted as much fuss as could be conjured, and desired a feast of sorts along the coast. Considering it was exceptionally bright, and the heat was nearly unbearably suffocating for me, I refused immediately, replying that he may do whatever his heart may fancy, but I shall stay here, within the solace of my Quarters.

Rage contorted his features as well as a cadence of harsh swears, swiftly followed by accusations of purposely wishing to ruin his mood and merriment, as well as embarass him in front of visitors. One sentence lead to another, and we were soon screaming at the top of our lungs, bellowing at the other. He said I was no more than a useless whore, and wondered out loud why it was he married me in the first place. In my cold fury, I harshly replied. "Perhaps, my lord, it is because you wished for a reminder of your previous wife who was, perhaps, a whore herself..."

Before I knew it or could even respond, I felt the weight of his body slam me into the stonewall, as well as the rough texture jab and scrap my skin. He glared at me through his wrinkled face; clenching the mass of sagging flesh he calls his hand around my neck to the point where I could no longer breath. I struggled against him, desperately trying to break free, but it was no use. He stood a foot taller than me and is twice my weight. Just as my vision began to fade to black, I heard another's voice: Iago's.

He must have heard us arguing and made his way towards us (by this point, most of the servants opted to ignore us when we argued, leaving us be), for he immediately broke us apart, pulling Posol away from me, leaving me gasping for air. Words of thanks and gratitude lingered on my tongue, waiting to be released until the embarrassment arrived, causing a tinge of color to splash lightly on my pale features as I rushed away, seeking refuge in my chambers.

Later on, however, we encountered each other in the hallway. Being the kind soul he was, he gently inquired as to what had happened. Feeling as though he deserved at least an explanation, I mumbled a brief summary of what occurred, thanking him several times for his intervention, feeling somehow calmer and more relaxed in his presence, yet nervous at the same time. Eventually, though, we managed to slip into conversation as we were finally together in private, away from interruptions.

It was... magical, would be the best way to describe our conversations. We spoke in depth, finding various things in common, sharing inner thoughts, ultimately forming what I hope to be a long lasting, close relationship.

I think I have fallen in love with him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

I no longer think I have fallen in love with Iago.

I know I have fallen in love with Iago. Everytime our eyes meet, I swear my heart beats faster than an unforgiving gale freezes a desert-born Oeilvertian. When he speaks I find myself listening to every word that slips from his lips, finding every note to sound as smooth as satin, wrapping around my form in a comforting embrace. And when he smiles, I feel as though my world is suddenly a better place.

I was a nightingale trapped in a golden cage. And now Iago has brought me back to life.

He has gone now, returned to Danothos, and every fiber of my being longs for his return, to be in is presence once more. My days are spent dreaming of him and his God-like looks, his strong, commanding presence. Everything. More and more often, I find myself dreaming of a future in which Iago was aware of what I felt for him and, by some miracle, returned the feelings. At night, it's both a nightmare and a fairytale, for it feels as though I am truly living the life I long for.

I feel his arms around me, his lips upon mine. I can hear his voice whispering into my ear, how he loves me, how happy he is. I can feel our child stirring from within, his joy at our impending future and life together. I feel no sorrow, I feel no pain, I feel no fear. Only pure, heavenly bliss...

Until I wake up to an empty bed, alone, in the midst of the demonic hell of reality.

I try not to think of Iago. I try to ignore what my heart, mind, and body scream for, immersing myself into other thoughts, such as music. However, I find with painful clarity that music, once my sacred, albeit temporary, escape from reality, is also dominated thoughts of Iago. In fact, just today I wrote this song, dedicated to him.

Under your spell again.
I can't say no to you.
Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand.
I can't say no to you.

Shouldn't let you torture me so sweetly.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
I can't breathe but I feel...

Good enough,
I feel good enough for you.

Drink up sweet decadence.
I can't say no to you,
And I've completely lost myself, and I don't mind.
I can't say no to you.

Shouldn't let you conquer me completely.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
Can't believe that I feel...

Good enough,
I feel good enough.
It's been such a long time coming, but I feel good.

And I'm still waiting for the rain to fall.
Pour real life down on me.
'Cause I can't hold on to anything this good enough.
Am I good enough for you to love me too?

So take care what you ask of me,
'cause I can't say no.

I feel good enough to love him, but one question still haunts my mind every day and night: Am I good enough for him to love me too?

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