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Rated: E · Chapter · Fantasy · #1662385
Two stories in one: One of a young girl and the other of her great-great grandmother
    "There once were four great kingdoms," the story began, "ruled by four ancient families and they had fought over the land for thousands of years."

    "What do you mean there were four kingdoms, how did there get to be only two?"

    "If you would just listen to the story, Avril. I swear you ask too many questions."

    The large bed with its abundance of blankets and pillows always swallowed up Avril's small eight year old frame, causing her to kick and buck and flail about, using any means necessary to elude their clutch.  Her Aunt Justine sat in the big comfy chair beside her bed and seemed to be peacefully entertaining her knitting despite her words and the flurry from the bed.  Practically everything in Avril's room was big and sometimes hazardously comfy.  The curtains that framed the floor to ceiling windows made a pool on the carpet and were made of the softest material her father, Lord Adrian of Port Tidings, could find.  The area rug that lay beneath seemed to magically transport young Avril to a world above the clouds, where she would close her eyes and spin unconstrained, her arms stretching as far as they could reach, growing longer and longer as she spun ever faster.  Her closet was filled with rows of intricately made gowns of pale pinks and muted yellows that all hung unused and never worn, except for one.  One dark blue and obtrusively plain dress, that had long ago grown too short for Avril's quickly lengthening legs, which hinted that she might one day be just as tall as her father, was the only dress Avril vowed she would ever wear, proving what everyone already knew, she could be just as stubborn as her father.  Of course the blue dress wasn't the only thing she ever wore, that would be silly, Avril had nothing against pants, just dresses.  Avril greatly abhorred getting dressed up, it was to be expected when ones first memories of dresses included a funeral.  When required, she would don the same dark blue dress that she wore to her mother’s funeral; endure countless hours of polite and proper conduct filled with boring adult conversation and day dream of riding as fast as she was allowed, her wispy blonde hair free in the wind. Or go swimming, she loved to go swimming and both riding and swimming could best be achieved wearing pants and not skirts.  Avril had had a long, long day filled with parties and court ladies and her Aunt was telling her a story, in an attempt to put her in a better mood. 

    "I'm sorry Aunt Justine, it won't happen again."

    "Yes it will," she stated in her sensible, no nonsense way that completely encompassed her ever prim and proper, the always-perfect-shining-example existence.

    But Aunt Justine did have one truly inspiring talent, and that was story telling.  It was then that the normally prim and proper Aunt Justine would become superbly animated, fighting off pirates with her knitting needles, bounding across the room to escape attackers, clinging to one of the four posters of Avril's bed for dear life as if it were the mast of a ship swaying violently in a torrential downpour.  Just as she knew what action was key to engage her audience, she knew when to lower her voice to just above a whisper, barely audible, so that Avril would have to strain her ears and cause the little hairs on the back of her neck to raise in fright when she heard the very unwonted, approaching footsteps her Aunt described. 

    "Where was I?"

    "The four great kingdoms had ruled the land for thousands of years..."

    “Right, the two kingdoms of Arendale and Dover were old enemies, and the recent peace between them was a fragile one, where any wrong word could destroy it completely.”

And so the story began, Aunt Justine told her young niece of the four great kingdoms and their rulers.  Ponulous Drumald commanded the kingdom of Arendale in the west, Swordon was ruled by the greedy Octavious Sinclair in the east, the nation of Fristhaven to the north was controlled by the strange and secretive Sheldon Hawthorn, and in the center of it all, the Hastings family had governed the kingdom of Dover for centuries. 

    "My great-grandmother Leona, your great-great-grandmother, was the daughter of Leo Hastings, the ruler of Dover.  She and her twin sister Leandra were King Leo's only children and there was unrest in the kingdom because there was no male heir. Like you she disliked the routine of her position and wished she could just be a normal person.  She wanted to see the world but she was forbidden to leave the capital city, her home was also her prison."

    "What did she do?"

    "She did as she was told and obeyed her father, all the while wishing that she could be someone else."





Arisel, the capital of Dover, was known as the city of two castles.  The city's center, and first castle, was erected on a hill that rose high above the rest of the town and could be seen for miles around.  The first castle, which came to be known as the Elder Castle, was the oldest part of the city, which had grown in ever expanding circles around it.  Each tier of growth now belonged to separate and distinct members of society.  The tier closest to Elder Castle housed the nobility of Dover, the descendants of the original founders of Arisel.  The next tier was built and owned by the rich merchants and bankers, who were then followed by the craftsmen and inn keepers.  Finally, on the outskirts of the capital, lived the forgotten and forlorn; the common people, who lived in ramshackle houses and preformed the dirty jobs that kept the city running smoothly.  They were the messengers and bar wenches, the sewage collectors and maids.  And above them, towering over them all, were the walls of Elder Castle.  On the capital's south side, outside the city's rigid social hierarchy, stood the city's second castle, known simply as The Green.  Its name could be misleading to strangers, since everyone who saw it described it as more of a blue-grey.  It was built of the blue-grey stones that were found along the river.  More than anything, The Green was famous for its graceful beauty; its sweeping curves and lofty towers gave it the appearance that it was merely resting on the ground, and that it would lift itself up to float among the clouds at any second.  The Green contrasted starkly with Elder Castle, which had always been first and foremost a fortress, while The Green had been built as a home. 

    Leona and her sister Leandra traveled often between the two castles, which were their homes, but most of their time was spent at The Green. The girls were everything two princesses should be; they were beautiful and well brought up, they were educated and graceful.  They looked much alike, after all they were twins; both had long dark hair, olive skin and fierce green eyes.  Leona was a bit shorter than her sister and Leandra had a scar just above her right eyebrow, that she received when she fell off her horse and hit her head on a rock.  The abrasion angled downward and made Leandra look as if she were scowling; yet the slight flaw did not diminish her beauty.  They each had a room much like the one that Avril herself had; there they would take their lessons on music, sewing, dancing and court etiquette and, since they had turned sixteen, dress for those long nights of dancing and polite talk in the great hall.  Though she knew those evenings played an important part of court politics, Leona considered them a waste of time.  She would much rather spend her nights reading or exploring the capitol, not to mention the funds which would be better spent feeding the poor or the soldiers in the field.  She never understood why her sister enjoyed the court parties; Leona never liked dancing with the young courtiers with their clammy hands and self-centered chatter.  She hated that she had to be polite and dance with everyone who asked her, if she declined it was seen as disrespect to that person's family, and the noble courtiers never took to lightly to being disrespected.  There was one courtier that irked Leona beyond all means; Mik the Master of Fief Kalvert was the most arrogant and ignorant of the bunch and was somewhat of a leader among the young courtiers.He was good looking, Leona had to admit that, but his personality severely deadened his looks.  He was the second son of Lord Kris and Lady Jocelyn of Fief Kalvert, both now deceased.  His older brother Lord Lance was now the head of the family; Lance was married and had a six year old daughter.  He would sometimes bring his daughter when he had business at court.  Leona loved to play with young Audrey, as far as she could see the two brothers were as much alike as night and day.  Where Mik was rowdy and boisterous, Lord Lance was the proper gentleman who never had a harsh word for anyone.  They neither acted nor looked like brothers, both were handsome enough, but Mik had dark hair and Lance's was much lighter.  Mik was nearly a full head taller than his brother and much broader as well.  Mik entertained illusions of grandeur and was under the impression that he was a superb catch.  When he wasn't drinking or starting fights, he was making crude propositions to anything wearing skirts, and had even gone as far to tell Leona that "No girl could resist his advances and she was the luckiest girl in the kingdom because he had chosen her."  Those were his exact words!  Of all the people in all the kingdoms he was the last person she wanted to be making advances toward her.  When her father informed her that she was expected to attend a feast in honor of Mik and several others among the young men being granted their knighthood, she could barely contain her glee.  Knighthood meant a commission outside the capital in one of the fortresses along the borders; knighthood meant Mik would be leaving.  Yet, imagine her distress when she learned that newly-made Sir Mik had asked to be her escort for the evening.

    Her father was sitting at his desk in his study, a room in which he spent countless hours and one in which Leona had always enjoyed visiting.  It was filled with books and artifacts that Leona's grandfather and great-grandfather had procured on their many journeys throughout the four kingdoms.  There was a stuffed gosette, a rare type of fowl which is nearly extinct and found only in the Sulfur Swamps in the southernmost part of the kingdom living off the many insects found there.  There was a tapestry that her grandfather found in Tagoben, a prosperous market town in the Far East; the tapestry depicted the reign of the ancient King Martapus of Swordon, who was known for his canny ability to discover when those close to him were conspiring against him.  He had hundreds executed for trying to steal his thrown including two of his brothers, a nephew and an uncle, as well as all the men loyal to them.  Her favorite item sat on the desk just before her father's bent head; it was supposedly the dagger of Queen Sanara of Arendale, who protected her children from the attacking invaders after they had killed her King, legends tell that she killed nearly ten assailants with only her dagger before they killed her and took both her young son and daughter as captives.  Help arrived soon afterward and a search was made for the missing children but neither was ever found.  To be so close to something that belonged to such a courageous woman always made Leona feel deficient and unworthy of her position.  Then she would remember that Queen Sanara's assailants were sent by her own ancestors and her anger for the senselessness of the hate and animosity which still carried on between their two countries would return.  She had no idea that her father kept the dagger for the same emotion it evoked when he looked upon it.  Her father had looked up from his papers and was gazing at her questioningly, he had been looking rather tired these past days but it wasn't until this moment that Leona realized it.  Her father had always been more than human to her, most fathers are to their daughters, but Leona was noticing the changes her father had gone through during the past two years since her mother's death.  There were more creases around her father's eyes and more gray hairs then there had been the last time she looked, it was as if he had aged ten years in only two.  Her mother had always pleaded with her father to make peace with Arendale, yet her pleas went unheeded.  Her father would say that she knew nothing of affairs of state; he believed that the war had lasted too long, nearly two hundred years, and that there could never be a peace.  After the death of her mother, her father realized that maybe he should have listened, and he began peace talks with King Ponulous, if only he had listened sooner then maybe she wouldn't have had to die. 

    "What did I hear about Sir Mik escorting me to his farewell feast tomorrow night?"

    "Leona please spare me, it was his idea not mine and it's only one night, can't you just put up with him for a few hours?"

    "Father please, can't I decline just this once?"

    "You know what will happen if you decline, it will be seen as an insult to his family."

    "I'm sure Lord Lance will understand he knows exactly what kind of person his brother is, he will not see it as an insult."

    "You know I won't permit it."

    "Fine I'll accept Sir Mik's gracious offer...."

    "Thank you!"

    "But I feel a cold coming on."

    "Leona," the exasperation in her father's voice stopped her progress toward the door, "I know that you don't like Sir Mik and you have good reason not to, but there are a lot of people I don't like that I have to deal with.  It goes hand in hand with diplomacy.  I know you don't like it but you are royalty and diplomacy is a big part of that.  Please, just this once.  Do the diplomatic thing and accompany Sir Mik to the feast."

© Copyright 2010 EdieLaurence (kburgan220 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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