Before i could ponder anymore, Clutching tightly and gripping the four satchels in both of my palms, my legs, climbed the cracked stairs, strode through the cobbled path, and marched forward towards the door. Barely has my body stopped near the door, the screaming and the echo of that screaming, escalated and exploded through the entire walls, making it entirely audible even outside the house. And it did not help that one of the echo was entirely identifiable, because I have been hearing that voice for more than twenty eight summers, and I know firsthand what happens when the iron in that voice gets triggered, and I would like to not experience that ever again, so without entering, my body patiently waited for the conclusion of that echo, and the heated argument within the house to wind up.

  I did not have to wait that long, because barely another breath passed, that the door swung open, and a woman marched forward.

  With each step this woman advanced near me, the first thing that stood out about her was not her eyes, it was not even her legs, or let alone her broad shoulders, it was her bruised knuckles similar to my own, whose skin had been torn, and blood leaked and dipped from that skin. After seeing that knuckles, and the liquid that leaked through the knuckles, the hair on my arms erected. As for the woman herself, upon seeing me standing just before her, her lips curled, eyes leaking fury, hair tied in a bun above her head, with cotton yellow frock wavering across the wind, without another word of response, turning her back to me, the woman pushed me aside and marched forward. And the practical man that I am, I allowed the woman to pass me by, as that is one of the greatest lessons i learnt living as a pheasant and a beggar in the city of Roanoke-never interrupt a woman when she is angry. Wars have been fought and died because of that. So, a wise man that I am, I allowed the woman to bypass me without interrupting her, and in doing so, I saved myself, and I saved the valley that much more.

  "Look at her, huh, look at her, she turns her back to me and marches off as if I am the sinner and she is the saint. The audacity of her. The foolishness of her. If I were any younger, Donald, lord knows I would have put that woman in her place!!"

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  "Control and compose yourself Margarette now is not the time or the place for this, our oldest is here, and if he sees you in this state and witnesses your vulnerability, you know what will happen, and how violent that reaction will be. Both of us do not want that. We do not have the strength to endure another bloody red day in this valley."

  "Do not you preach me, Donald. My son is many things, but breaker of words he is not. And he swore to me on the day, that he would never do that again in this village. And he will keep his word, because he, more than anyone knows the consequence of what will occur if he chooses to defy his word."

  Lifting his arms, unbuttoning his collar, the man responded.

  "True, he would never defy you. But we both have lived long, and have been broken even longer to know that words have only meaning, when the one who gives those words have overcome himself, so what about the anger that he has caged, and is pumping through his veins, here and now. That, i think would easily break his word, if worse comes to worst."

  Hearing those words all my talk of self-preservation vanquished within me, as a dragon of a woman, whose milky while hair tied in a braid, clothes consisted of thin cotton trousers and a white tunic, turned her draconian authoritarian gaze towards me, and stealthily watched me.

  "Well, thank you for that, padre. Just when I thought I had escaped one sandstorm, you push me towards another."

  Stating that, my legs marched and entered, carefully stepping one foot after the other, cautiously watching the woman before me. While the woman in turn, whose arms crossed, gaze continued to scan and stalk my march. From the tip of my feet to the hair covering half of my face, she began to observe, analyze, and store my image for future reference. Seeing that gaze deeply unsettled me, because just as the day I met her, the iron in her veins and gaze continued to dominate, and establish itself, as even after all this time it did not dwindle or diminish. It stayed there. And i was absolutely positive it will remain there, because she is my queen, and queens must have iron just as sky must have sun. And every breathing soul in this valley and land knows that.

  And the only one who truly opposes that idea is those who wish to pursue the ideal meaning of queen from our history.