Chapter 1: The White Rook
"Well, here I am."
Ameko looked up as the White Rook reappeared before her, the gates opening as she approached. Swallowing against the sudden nervousness she felt, she stepped inside. The inside of the castle itself was nearly bare, stripped down to the walls by time and decay. Shredded and rotting tapestries hung on the walls, broken mirrors hung askew through the main hall, and the ceilings were littered with cobwebs, although it was a question of how they got there, for not a single creature seemed to be alive inside the castle, right down to the insects and rats. There was no sound except for the echo of her own footsteps, sounding surprisingly loud in the hall she was standing in, which had presumably once been the grand hall. Not so grand now.
Setting down the bag of supplies she had with her, she looked around, rubbing at her arm. "Well, here I am," she called out. "What do you want me to do now?"
Silence was the only response, other than the faint echoes of her words through the large, lofted halls. She frowned, continuing up through the hall, toward the throne at the end. The throne itself was in the same set of disrepair, the wood rotting and collapsing, the seat rotted out and the stuffing mostly gone. White, she noted, at least, I think it used to be. Well, of course that would make sense. I suppose most of this place was decked in white at one point.
Reaching out, she ran her fingers along the intricately carved handle of the throne, lifting off a layer of dust. The design of the chair was unusual, the high back thick and reinforced with enough room for a person to stand or sit on top. I wonder if they had a cat in the old court?
A tingling entered her fingers from where she was touching the throne, an itching sensation that seemed to be building up. Instead of taking her hand away, she pushed it down against the throne arm, ignoring the creak of the old wood. She closed her eyes, and imagined what the chair must have been like when her grandmother had sat in it. It was almost like she could hear the voices of the court, smell the scents of good food and perfume, as well as a musky odor she couldn't identify, and....
No, she wasn't imagining that, she realized, her eyes opening. As she looked back into the hall, she could see figures, almost like ghosts, moving around and talking merrily among themselves. But almost as if fleeing from her eyes, they faded as she watched, leaving the hall silent and empty once again.
What in the world was that? Ameko looked down at the throne, and then jumped. The chair which had been in a state of disrepair...wasn't. The wood had placed itself back together, the plush seating plumping itself back up and repairing its stitches, the carvings of the forest and its creatures leaping back to lifelike detail on the sides of the chair. Ameko kneeled by the throne, studying the markings. It must have been her grandmother's throne, she thought, the throne of the White Queen. Hers now, she added, shaking her head at the odd sensation of owning this simple piece of furniture that carried so much to it.
"Well," she murmured to herself. "I'm here now. May as well go all the way." Standing up, she turned and sat down in the chair.
It was like the sensation when she first touched the walls, of one's eyes opening that much wider, like a breath of air after swimming underwater, almost like the first breath of life itself. She could feel the area outside her skin, the walls, the throne, the broken mirrors and faded tapestries. And with them, she could feel something else that she couldn't label, something that seemed to brighten and darken with the various items in the room. The walls were dark, the throne bright. The tapestries which were restoring their own color as she watched were bright, and the mirrors which pieces themselves back together and repaired their cracks seamlessly were dark. She wondered what it meant. There were a lot of things she didn't know about the White Rook and her own powers that she was going to have to find out.
Finally standing up from the chair, she took a look around, and couldn't help but let out a little, stifled gasp. The hall already was starting to change dramatically, color and life coming back to the room. She herself felt more alive, more alert, thrumming with energy that echoed in her footsteps like the sound of the footsteps herself. Picking up her bag, she took another look around before moving into the next room.
Like the grand hall, the side hall she walked down was in similar disrepair, but unlike the grand hall, it seemed to pick up the thrumming from her skin right away, color washing over the walls as the pieces of wall picked themselves up and put themselves back together. It made her smile slightly as she paused, looking around at the work her mere presence was causing. At the same time, she felt an odd sense of pride. Although she had helped around the house with the repairs, with the little garden they had, there had never been anything she had built and repaired herself. Even the sound of the echoing was changing as the walls reformed themselves, the stones taking on a clean, white appearance.
Thinking of the garden made her take a turn. Although she had never been in the castle before, she was sure she was now going to where the garden had been. Another extension of White's power, she guessed. The garden, like everything else, was bare and stark, the ground hard and stiff. Locating a rusted spade, she ran a hand over it, feeling the thrumming as the rust flaked away, turning into nothingness and revealing a tool that looked as if it had never been used. Smiling, she looked down at her shoes, the ground turning brown and pliable under her soles, and then took off her shoes. Pulling out the seeds her father had packed away for her, she began to turn over the earth. She located a storage shed which reformed a load of manure for fertilizing the land, and she couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity: the castle could even restore animal feces if needed. Ignoring the dirt and gunk that got on her arms, she took off her shoes, letting the dirt squeeze between her toes as she began planting the seeds in neat rows, arranging them in relation to their size and the castle walls. The tomatoes came first, then the corn, and after that was pumpkin and wheat. Blowing the dust off some window boxes, she planted some herbs next, filling the boxes with dirt from the ground and mixing in the manure carefully.
When it was all done, she was covered in filth, but felt more accomplished. She couldn't help but smile as she looked around the rows of tilled earth, imagining what it might be like. The corn would start to come in first, and then the tomatoes, poking their little green buds out of the earth....
She opened her eyes as she sensed the thrumming sensation. The garden had taken her imagination to heart, and was already starting to poke plant growth through the soil. "No, no," she said hurriedly, waving her hands. "You don't need to rush it."
The garden didn't answer, of course, but she could almost sense the confusion, the hesitation. "Just take your time," she said gently, reaching down to touch one of the leaf buds. "There's no need to rush. Enjoy the stages of your growth."
Even as she spoke the words, it gave her pause. She did sense some kind of emotion just then, she was sure of it. What exactly was the White Rook? There were too many questions, and she wasn't sure who she knew that could answer them. Picking up her bag, she moved back inside. Next on the agenda was a shower. The one at the house she shared with her father--shared, past tense, she reminded herself--was simplistic at best and she hoped the one here wasn't too complicated to operate. Letting her instinct guide her, she emerged in yet another stone room, but unlike the others, this one was warm before she even entered it. She could smell the steam in the air as she pushed open the failing door, keeping her hand on it for a moment so it could repair itself.
The room before her was set down into the ground, the floor lined with smooth tile that felt pleasantly cool to her bare feet. In front of her was a massive tub, steam rising off the surface. For it to be steaming even without having functional workings, it must be connected to an underground spring or vent, providing heat to the water. Sitting down at the edge, she let the room thrum for a while, the water beginning to swirl around her feet. After waiting to be sure the room was in proper order, she slipped into the water.
The hot waters swirling gently around her tired body were heavenly. Closing her eyes, she let the warmth seep into her body as she thought about what to do next. Well, she had one thing she could do, at least. Perhaps once the castle was properly repaired, there would be another avenue that would open. What did she need to do to restore the White Kingdom properly, and more importantly, how did she defend it from Neverland?
She thought about that for a moment. Through her life in the secluded, rural areas, Neverland had been a vague threat at best, of the variety used to threaten children to go to bed. Obviously, the reality had to be something more different. What she did know was that they would need to eliminate her in order to effectively destroy the White kingdom. So she would be the target.
"I'll sleep on it," she declared to the room, pulling herself out of the water and letting her hair hang down, little rivers of water running down her skin. "I'll decide what to do about Neverland in the morning."
That night, the nightmares began.
