Asthore Means Loved

[Note]Started when I was thirteen, constructive criticism wanted.

Chapter First

He stared at her, her thick black hair was not his, but her china-blue eyes gave her away. She was his daughter, all forty-seven pounds of her. She was five-years-old and quite a grave girl. She had luxurious black hair with a single small braid in the back of it, this fine mane sheltered serene and calm china-blue eyes that matched his own.

The small girl was dressed in a tattered, filthy reddish (or what used to be reddish) frock. Her bare feet were covered with black dirt and were scratched considerably. One might never know that she was the daughter of a prince.

He himself had fair hair that flopped down on one side over his deep tanned face and his own set of light blue eyes. His jaw was prominent and masculine, his shoulders broad. He was a tall young man, as were most of the men in his family. At twenty-two, he was the crown prince of Irled, his brother was king.

Although his brother was only twenty-five, he was a good and just king. He had a small son, but the young boy was sickly and might never be fit to rule.

He turned back to the girl, Asthore. The name was contradicting itself, Asthore meant 'loved one', but this girl had obviously not received much love. Her eyes were haunted and bruises adorned her legs and arms. She had lived the life of a servant girl, or a street urchin, he did not know. She had likely been beaten at some point and gone hungry quite often.

He turned to the man standing nearby, "Whose daughter is she?"

Rogan glanced up from his grindstone, his dark auburn hair falling into his face casually, "Assana the servant-girl. Why, Prince Finian, she a runaway?" He eyed the girl as she sat under the nearby spruce.

Finian shook his head, "No..."

He thought about the servant girl, he'd known her. He'd been married to her. At the age of seventeen, he and Assana had married. Finian's parents had seen the love between the young and hotheaded couple, and so had allowed them to marry. Within a year though, Assana had realized that she had to let him go. They were still in love, but Assana knew that they were just too different. She'd gone to the King and Queen, who understood and had the marriage quietly resolved. None of the common folk even knew they'd been married, for right at that time was when Finian's nephew was born.

She'd never told him about a child, he looked at Rogan, "Where is Assana?"

Rogan shrugged, "Either heaven or hell, but I shan't know til' I die."

Finian blinked, "Well, where's the father?"

Rogan ran a finger over a freshly sharpened axe blade, "That's a rather sticky subject. After Assana went off to be a servant to your family, she came back in a fluster two years later. Soon after, she had Asthore. We of the village figger that she got in a mess with one of your servant boys.

Finian looked to the girl, who was staring straight forward, her knees hunched up and her arms wrapped around them. He turned to Rogan, "I'll be taking her."

Rogan shrugged as Finian bent and picked up Asthore, who made no sound. She continued to stare, as if not seeing him. He turned to Rogan, "Alright then, Rogan, thank you for the sword. I'll be seeing you next time I pass through Zinna's Meadow."

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Finian smiled at Asthore as they laid flowers on Assana's grave. He turned to her, "Are you scared of me?"

Asthore shook her head, Finian smiled, "How old are you?"

She held up her hand for five years and Finian looked at her seriously, "Do you know who I am?"

Asthore nodded and Finian prompted her, "Who am I?"

Finian had decided by now that the child could not, or would not, speak. She dashed across the small graveyard and came back with a berry, a feather, and some bark. She quickly dipped the end of the feather into the berry and wrote in scraggly letters on the bark, "Price Fynan. Fader."

"Prince Finian. Father. You'll have to learn to write. So, Assana told you I was your father?", he asked gently. Asthore nodded again. Finian furrowed his brow and bit his lip pensively. He had a child, a daughter. He was twenty-two years old and he had a five year old daughter.

He smiled at her quickly, "How do you feel about me being your father?"

A tiny slip of a smile appeared on her face and Finian suddenly decided that he would do anything to get those delicate lips to laugh. He scooped her up and carried her out of the graveyard and down the busy street to the village marketplace. He smiled at Asthore as they approached a young girl selling simple frocks, "Point at your favorite color."

Asthore pointed to a dark blue frock and Finian frowned slightly. It was a dark color, not one he would have picked for a child, but he saw the sense in it. Her exotic hair and beautiful eyes would be dulled by anything too bright, but with the dark colors, the contrast really brought out her colors.

Finian quickly purchased the dress and took her back to the inn where he was staying. He looked around franticly for the innkeeper's wife. The dark-haired woman was washing down the front desk, but was perfectly willing to stop and dress the small child. Mrs. Aifric brought the child out with a smile, "She's absoulutely beautiful! Where'd you get her, milord?"

Finian blushed, "Aifric, she's my daughter."

Mrs. Aifric gasped in a pleasant way, "Really and truly? Delightful!"

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Finian laughed at Asthore's wide eyes. The two had just entered the gates of Aelene, the capital city of Irled. There were many luxurious shops around, with multitudes of shopkeepers selling wares and chatting with customers. Finian picked the small child up and set her upon his broad shoulders, so she could see over his gaurds. Many people stopped what they were doing to wave to the prince, happy smiles crossing their sun-tanned faces.

As the two entered the palace gates, Finian's four younger siblings bombarded him. His eldest sister, twenty-one, was a maiden of beautiful virtue. She had long, strawberry blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. She was smiling kindly at Asthore as she danced about Finian, her long white gown swishing happily. Her name was Eveleen, which meant 'light'.

His younger sister, Edana, had soft auburn hair that trailed around behind her in the breeze. She had shorter hair than the rest, for it grew slowly. She had a mischievous glint in her deep blue eyes and her twelve-year-old feet danced merrily.

Next were Finian's half-siblings, the children of his step-mother.

Phelan, 'joyful', was a wide-eyed boy of nine, his fair hair and light blue eyes shone in the light. The boy was blind, but still enjoyed life at it's fullest.  His twin, Moira, had once been called Meara, which means 'happy', but Moira was a fearful child, so her name had been changed to 'bitter'. Moira was not bitter, just quiet, skittish, and generally scared of everything. She was the image of her brother, fair hair that swirled around her like a blanket, and soft china-blue eyes.

His younger siblings were too excited about their gifts to ask about Asthore, but Finian saw a thoughtful glint in Eveleen's eyes. After he distributed gifts to his friends and family, he went to his brother, who was sitting in the great hall with his small son, Gair.

"Hello, Dempsey, how art thou and Gair?", Finian asked his brother as Asthore self-conciously dug her fists into his hair.

Dempsey, who's name meant 'proud', was grinning up at Finian from his seat as he bounced his black-haired son. He spoke quickly, "He's having a good week, not as pale as last week and he has had too many bad spells. Who's the lass?"

Finian smiled as he took Asthore from his shoulders and set her on the ground, "You'll find out later, dear brother."

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"Who's the girl, Finian?", asked Sheridan. His untameable red hair was flailing about the place, a mass of drowning flames. His bright blue eyes skipped themselves lazily over a path of gingersnap freckles as he slid into a chair at the table.

Finian smiled at his best friend, "She's a friend of mine. You'll find out more about her later."

Asthore's hair was brushed and clean and it shone brightly in the candelight. She was dressed in a clean frock of deep violet. She was sitting in the corner, watching the five men assemble for their card game. She suddenly bounded from her spot on the floor and slid into Finian's lap, surprising him greatly. He blinked as she snatched up the cards and began to shuffle quickly.

Sheridan laughed, "She'll be a quite fun to have around! I suppose she'll be at your nephew's banquet?"

Finian nodded as Asthore dealt the cards with a skilled hand. He took up his hand and laughed as he laid the five cards on the table, "She knows her stuff." Four aces and a king were smiling up at them. Asthore slid from Finian's lap and trotted away, then wandered back.

Sheridan laughed aloud, "Well, I'll be, she's quite smart!"

Finian smiled, "She's splendid, I know."

Bran, a tall man with thick black hair, beamed down on the child, "She'd be handy...if she were on my side!"

Finian laughed heartily, earning a smile from the small child, "She's mine, so you can't have her."

Bran produced a mock pout, "Are you sure?"

Finian looked thoughtful, "Well.....maybe...."

Asthore's sudden burst of sobs and screams shocked the group of men. She had flung herself onto Finian's leg and was crying into his soft leggings. Finian lifted her quickly onto his lap, "What is this now?"

Sheridan leaned over the table, "The wee lass obviously doesn't want to be seperated from you, milord."

Finian smiled gently at the small girl and he stroked her hair, "Tis just fine, I'm not going to let you go off with anyone, my dear. You're stuck with me for good."

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Sheridan ran a hand through his wild red hair and smiled at Finian, "So, how old is little Asthore?"

Finian smiled back at his old friend, "Five."

Sheridan nodded slowly, "I see. She's a beauty, what're you gonna with her?"

Finian glanced at the cobblestone floor before looking up at his friend, "Raise her. She's my daughter."

Sheridan stared at his friend for a moment before speaking, "Who is the mother? Are there any others? What have you been hiding from me?"

Finian laughed, "The mother was Assana, of course. Who else? No, there are no others. I have not been hiding anything from you."

Sheridan sighed as he stuck his thumbs in his belt, "What happened to pretty little Assana? She sure was a tiny slip of a thing."

Finian looked at his feet and replied quietly, "She died of malaria, left Asthore almost an orphan. The little one knows I'm her father."

Sheridan looked thoughtful, his pale blue eyes dimming down to an gray-blue pool of thoughtfulness, "Will she ever speak? Can she speak?"

Finian sighed, "I think that she can't, or she would."

Asthore came trotting into the room, tears in her eyes and a frown on her face. Gair was following her, a plantive look in his eyes and tears dotting his own pale face. Finian caught up Asthore in his arms and looked to Gair, "What happened?"

Gair was a noble young child and they saw the truth in his eyes as he spoke, "I was teasing her because she doesn't talk. I did not mean to hurt her feelings. I was being mean and selfish. I'm sorry."

Finian sighed, "You must not tease her, Gair. She cannot help that she does not speak. Apologize to her and I will not tell your father."

Gair bowed low to Asthore and smiled nobly, the stood and raised his head, his jaw firm as he spoke, "I apologize to you, fair maiden, please accept this token of my friendship." With that, he slipped off the small blue ring he wore and slid it onto Asthore's finger. The crystal-blue eyes cheered at this and Asthore smiled. She slid from her father's lap and stood, then smiled before leaning over and kissing Gair's pale cheek.

Sheridan grinned broadly, "Tis' the sweetest sight, but don't you tell a single soul that I said that."

Asthore climbed back into her father's lap as Finian smiled back, "Let's hope everyone accepts her the way Gair does."

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Gair's brithday banquet was quite a bash. The small prince was turning seven, an official age. As now he took the title 'crown prince' away from Finian. At seven, he could rule if anything happened to Dempsey. Finian was sitting and watching the children as they played when Eveleen approached him. She sat down by him and ran a hand through her strawberry blonde hair, "Are you sorry that you are only a prince now, and no longer crown prince?"

Finian laughed, "Heavens, no. I should not like to ever be king, for it is the princes who have all the fun. Of course, if anything were to happen to dear Dempsey, I should help Gair rule, for he is a sickly child and could not do well alone."

Eveleen smiled, the joy of living was plain on her face as she twirled hair about her finger. She suddenly looked thoughtful and pensive for a moment before speaking, "Is Asthore...is she your daughter?"

Finian looked surprised, "How did you know?"

Eveleen smiled, "She has your blue eyes, but the shape of them... the way they're shape like an almond, that's Assana's contribution."

Finian nodded as Asthore came and crawled into his lap yet again. He stroked her hair as he spoke, "I hope I'll be a good father and treat her right. She must be disciplined, but kindly and gently. She must not be spoiled."

Eveleen smiled, "I think you'll be a good father."

They were suddenly interrupted by Moira and Edana, who were curious about Asthore. Edana squealed and Moira smiled when Finian explained. They gushed over their niece quite endlessly. Moira came out of her shell and smiled at the small child. She hugged Asthore and gave her some chocolate.

Finian was happy as his two sisters led Asthore away cheerfully. He was glad that his family was accepting his young daughter so cheerfully. Suddenly though, he was confronted with a problem. Pretty young Aideen, a redheaded beauty from the O'Mally family, was making her way over to him. Finian had still not told the nineteen-year-old beauty that he had a daughter. Aideen obviously liked him and he hated to hurt her feelings by telling her that he had a responibility to his daughter. He would never court another woman again.

Two minutes later found Aideen sitting herself next to Finian, "How are you dear friend, Finian?"

Finian smiled at her rather nervously, "I'm fine, and you?"

Aideen ran a hand through her fiery red hair and smiled back at him, "I'm well. I'm curious though. Don't think I'm forward, but who is the small girl you've been with?"

Finian took a deep breath, "My daughter."

Aideen gasped, "Really? Assana's daughter? How wonderful!" She glanced down at her hands, "I should very much like a little girl of my own. One just as pretty as her."

Finian sighed, "Aideen....I don't wish to hurt you. It's obvious you care for me, but I shall never court again."

Aideen blushed deeply, her rosy cheeks turning scarlet and her shining green eyes teared up. She sniffled, then composed herself, "Of course. We shall just go on being good friends, shall we not?"

Finian hugged his friend and kissed her softly on the cheek, "We shall."

Aideen smiled at him before laughing aloud, "Look at her and Gair,they seem so good with each other!"

Finian glanced to the two children, who were 'swordfighting' with long twigs. The grinned and laughed at each other.

Aideen spoke, "Dempsey said that the child can't speak, but if she can laugh, she can speak."

Finian stared at her, "I never realized that. I must get  Asthore to speak."