Welcome Heathens

‘If Caleb could see me now, would he even recognize me?’ Wren thought bitterly. The weight of all the jewelry and fine fabrics felt alien against her skin as she tried to maneuver around the room, making futile attempts to act like this whole situation wasn’t completely outrageous. Urgent whispers filled the space around her. A few people shot her looks of pity, others of apprehension. Only one thought was plaguing her mind. She didn’t need any confirmation, for the expressions on everyone’s faces told her all that she needed to know. The Queen was dead.

Wren was the backup plan. Only a few people were allowed to know that she even existed. However, despite exhaustive measures of secrecy, rumors persisted like insects on the scent of blood. Grandma Josephine was assigned as her caretaker. While educating Wren on court matters and battle strategy, Josephine tried her best to give her a normal childhood. Caleb had been beside her through it all, taking on the role of her protector. When her sister, Eden, ascended the throne upon their father’s untimely death, Wren felt that she could finally have a normal life. She could be free and forgotten away from the constant power struggle of royal life. She followed her passion for keeping the streets of her hometown safe by joining the Hunter’s Association. But just when Wren thought she had found her place in the world, an explosion ripped Josephine and Caleb away from her. Then upon Eden’s death, the life they had supported her in building had all been swept away. Now, standing in the coronation chamber filled with sycophants and envious nobles, it was as if she had died alongside them and become a different person. Wren refused to believe the explosion was just a coincidence, and she knew everyone in this room knew more than they were letting on. A voice from behind broke Wren out of her ruminating trance. Her black lace veil swished around as she turned to face the stranger.

“My condolences, Your Grace,” He was tall, slim, and almost ethereally pretty. His silver hair and white uniform made him stand out among all the courtiers bustling around the room. How had she not noticed him before?

“Please, there’s no need for formalities,” Wren fretted. “I haven’t even been crowned yet, so you can just call me Wren.” She held out her hand to the stranger. He hesitated before taking it gently in his hand. His smile contained all the mild softness of a lamb. It was so different from all the bravado and false charm that Wren had seen at court. “Very well,” he said. For the first time in months, Wren smiled. “You know, you’re the only one who’s actually spoken to me,” She muttered.

“Have I overstepped?” he asked, frowning.

“No, of course not!” Wren blurted out, her hands gesticulating as if she were trying to wave away his concern. ‘Though your concern is quite cute’, She wanted to add, but thought better of it. He smiled again.

“Good,” The Stranger breathed. “I thought it might be impolite to not at least say hello. I visit your lands often, though not in such highborn company, so I am unfamiliar with your customs.” As Wren gazed at his awkward, boyish smile, she felt an electric buzz in the air. The stranger’s face fell once again. He must have felt it too. The air in the room distorted with refracted light, an omen that Wren knew all too well. Sure enough, the hunter’s watch on her wrist began to buzz. She turned away to read the alert, and the stranger did the same on his own watch. He’s a hunter like me! They glanced at each other, a look of understanding passed between them.

“Wanderers.”

Wren hiked up her dress and was reaching down for the gun strapped to her leg, when a hand touched her shoulder.

“My Lady,” Captain Jenna whispered. “It’s not wise for you to get involved.” It sounded like a foreign language to be referred to in such a glorified manner by her former captain when, just a few months prior, Wren had been a mere rookie hunter under her guidance.

“I know, Captain,” Wren reasoned, still desperate for her mentor’s understanding and approval. “But if I’m not willing to put myself on the line as a Queen, as a hunter, then what good am I?”

Captain Jenna sighed. “Very well, but we will discuss this later.”

A deafening roar interrupted their conversion. Wren looked up only to find that the stranger was already gone. The crowd screamed as a gaggle of low level wanderers materialized into the room. Guards shouted instructions, but they could barely be heard over the panicked stampede. Wren was pushed to-and-fro by terrified courtiers as she readied her weapon of choice. As soon as a clearing opened in the chaos, she unleashed a hail of bullets on the intruders. She counted 1…2…3 total on her left. On her right—

A flash of light from her peripheral vision blinded her for a moment. When it cleared, she could see the remnants of a wanderer’s energy floating around her. The stranger was standing before her once again. He sheathed his sword, breathing a sigh of relief.

“That was close. Please be more careful next time,” He said. Wren felt her face heat up in embarrassment. She had allowed the chaos to get the better of her and failed to clock the wanderer closing in on her from the right. Wren sighed, wiping sweat from her brow. The moment her arm left her vision, the stranger had disappeared once again. Wren’s head was spinning trying to make sense of this strange individual.

After assessing the damage caused by the wanderers, it was decided that the coronation would be postponed. Not that Wren was complaining. She had enough on her plate as is, and she wasn’t yet prepared to take on her sister’s position. From the little contact they had, Wren could sense that the crown weighed heavy on her. Captain Jenna walked briskly around the destroyed coronation chamber.

“What if we had it somewhere else?” She asked.

“Out of the question!” The High Priestess balked. “This coronation chamber was specially designed to invoke the power of the almighty universe. It has been the site of every Royal Coronation since…”

The High Priestess’s rant faded into the background as Wren surveyed the scene. Her trained hunter’s eyes scanned over every crack and scorch mark.

“I feel like we’re not addressing the root of the problem,” Captain Jenna interjected. “How did wanderers get into this chamber, or even the Palace for that matter?”

“That’s what we’re investigating, Captain,” a security guard spoke up. “These flux stabilizers are state-of-the-art. Wanderers should not have been able to emerge here.”

“Well, until that matter is resolved,” Wren spoke up. “I forbid any public events at the Palace. We should also keep only essential staff here to reduce the risk of casualties.”

“But Your Grace–,’ The Chamberlain began.

“This is not up for debate,” Wren snapped.

“Your reasoning for not wanting to use the Palace is sound,” Captain Jenna said. “But we still need a secure location for you to perform your duties.”

As Wren searched for an answer, a servant rushed in.

“My Lady,” she said with a polite bow. “The Royal Physician is here. Should I tell him to wait?”

“No, I’ll be there shortly,” Wren said. She couldn’t keep Dr. Zayne waiting when he had other patients to be attending to. It’s not surprising that he wanted to check in after the incident during the coronation. She turned toward Captain Jenna and the High Priestess one last time.

“We’ll figure something out,” She stated resolutely before hurrying out the door.

—

“Breath in,” Dr. Zayne held a stethoscope to her chest. The cold metal spread goosebumps across her skin through the fine material of her dress. Wren inhaled, willing her heart to stop beating so damn hard. It was enough to be stressed about her upcoming coronation, but the unexpected wanderer attack had put her even more on edge. The last thing she wanted was for Zayne to worry himself into a workaholic frenzy over the state of her heart.

“Breath out.”

Wren let out a calming breath. Finally realizing how much tension she was holding, she unclenched her jaw and relaxed her shoulders.

“Your heart rate is higher than normal,” Zayne said in his usual unattached demeanor. “The incident this morning must have been stressful.” Wren simply nodded. He didn’t need to know the worries brewing in her mind. He was her doctor, not her shrink.

“Have you thought about taking a break? Monarchs go on diplomatic trips all the time,” Zayne suggested. The question caught Wren off guard. Surely, Zayne must have known that she can’t leave at a time like this. Not when so much was at stake. Perhaps the wanderer attack at the palace had shaken him up as well.

“Zayne, you know that I can’t,” Wren sighed. “I can’t give them a reason to question my resolve. Now that Eden is gone, they’ll try to tear down everything that she built.” Zayne placed his equipment to the side. When he turned back to Wren, he looked so sincere that it made her breath catch in her throat.

“As your doctor, my primary concern is your health. You’ve shown symptoms of anxiety disorder in the past-“

“Are you saying that I’m mentally unfit?” Wren interjected, her eyebrows raised.

“Of course not,” Zayne soothed. “But I know that protecting Eden’s legacy isn’t the only reason that you agreed to this arrangement.”

Wren’s shoulders sagged. Her hackles immediately lowered. They hadn’t spoken about her Grandmother or Caleb since the explosion.

“All I’m suggesting is that you don’t overdo it,” Zayne said. “You have more people counting on you than just yourself.”

Wren nodded resolutely. She reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a set of dog tags. “I haven’t forgotten who I’m doing this for.”

Zayne glanced at the tags. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“He would be proud.”

Wren let out a bitter ghost of a laugh. She shook her head. “I probably wouldn’t hear my real name out of his mouth for weeks. It would always be “Your Majesty”, "Your Eminence”, “Your Sleepiness”….” Zayne looked away, a small smile forcing its way onto his lips.

“Your Meowjesty,” Zayne said in a quiet voice. His facade had finally cracked. Wren choked out a laugh that surprised even herself, and Zayne finally allowed himself to warmly gaze at her.

The old door creaked open casting a sharp, sterile light into the secluded hallway. Zayne had purposefully chosen the forgotten storage hall as his temporary office. Wren wasn’t sure why until now. Only Tara stood in the dim window light, her encouraging smile ever present. She leaned in close and whispered, “Your appointment is over earlier than expected. Wanna get out of here?” Her eyes took on a more mischievous glint. Wren’s chest still felt heavy, but she nodded anyway. Grinning, Tara took her hand and led her down the hall. Together, they weaved through the once bustling back halls of the palace, now evacuated due to the wanderer attack. Occasionally they had to duck into a supply closet or behind a pillar to avoid nosy courtiers and hypervigilant palace guards. Finally, they snuck out of a utility door used by the maids. Tara sighed and motioned her arm as if wiping sweat from her brow.

“Now what?” Wren asked, looking around the barren alleyway. Tara blinked before lifting her land to her chin. “Huh, I didn’t plan this far ahead.” Wren couldn’t help but giggle.

Suddenly, Tara’s face lit up. “I know! Let’s go to the new café that just opened up!”

“Destiny Café?” Wren mused. “But, won’t it be busy? People might recognize me.”

“Ah ha! But that’s exactly my point!” Tara exclaimed. “They’ll be too busy to notice us. We just need to change into some civilian clothes!” Wren’s face lit up. She grabbed Tara by the shoulders.

“Tara, you’re the best!”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. He had hoped the pressure would stop the oncoming pain in his skull, but the migraine aura was already making itself known. Groups of cleaning staff moved around him like fish in a vast river. A few cast a curious gaze upon him before returning to their duties. As he made his way down the main hall, an advisor approached him with wide eyes and sweat upon his brow.

“Dr. Li,” He said, apparently relieved to see him. “You were the last person to see Her Highness. Did she say where she was going?”

Zayne held back an annoyed sigh. “Her Grace is under strict orders from her primary care physician to rest,” He said in a curt but professional tone. The advisor gaped at him, but Zayne stepped around him and continued on his way, making it clear that he would not divulge any more information.

After a long train ride, Zayne finally pushed open his apartment door. He left the lights off and sluggishly tugged his arms out of his lab coat. After placing it on the coat rack, he made his way to the bathroom. Inside the small, pristine space was his only salvation from the migraine burrowing inside his skull. It was the same routine every time. Pull open the cabinet, grab the bottle, struggle with the child proof cap, pop a tablet and swallow. The thing that annoyed Zayne the most about these attacks was that everything felt so slow.

With a tired sigh, he plopped himself down on the couch and squeezed his eyes shut. He could already feel his own heartbeat inside of his skull. He probably had taken the medication too late to have much of an effect, but one could still hope. In times like these, Zayne would distract himself with thoughts of Wren. She was probably out with Tara by now. He hoped that she could find it within herself to have fun again, and perhaps even smile or laugh. She seemed to be caught in an endless void ever since the explosion. Her gaze that used to be filled with so much life and hope now bored through him with a despair so deep it threatened to swallow everyone around it. Zayne knew that grief took time. Hell, he’d seen so much death that he had grief down to a science—or thought he did, at least. He knew neither himself nor Wren had taken the time to properly mourn Caleb or Josephine and it was going to catch up with them sooner or later, but he knew they both had obligations. In the end, who was he to tell Wren what she needed if he was behaving the exact same? Zayne had compartmentalized everything—packed away the memories of Caleb and the bond the three of them shared, right next to the memories of that day in the arctic. He pushed them deep down where their sneaky tendrils couldn’t reach him, but every night he still walked through endless halls of storage.

The buzz from his cellphone sent another wave of pain through his head. It was most likely a coworker at Akso asking for help, and Zayne felt an ache in his chest knowing that he could not come to their aid in his current state. He could push through colds and bugs, but not this. He snatched the incessantly buzzing device from the side table and opened it. He strained his eyes to focus on the blurry text, further aggravating the migraine. It was from Wren.