Awaiting Knightfall

The Plot

As I sit on cold stone, the height of my bedroom over the field's fog, a slow fire burns in the corner of the room by my bed. It's nearly autumn and I can feel how damp the air is becoming in the morning when the windows are open. I watch as my father's men gather in the courtyard below, bringing baskets and cases to the carts that await them. I knew this day was coming, but I did not expect it this soon. My eyes glaze then slowly fill. I hear my maid shout from the stairs but I choose to ignore her and continue to watch the men below.

My father, Lord Eustace Longmoss, has watched over our small kingdom for over twenty five
years, and has sworn to protect the North's people. Longmoss, a small stone city past the thick trees that separate the country, has been protected by him in more ways than one. He has supported the people, fed them, housed them, welcomed new members and also held court for those who wish to stray. He's stayed loyal to the people and to his house. We, as a family, live in the walls. The walls of the city of Longmoss are our home. The hexagonal barricade to the city are high walls, full of rooms filled with staff, cooks, knights, maids and guards that care for us and protect our small community.  My room, requested by me when I was six, is located at the top of one of the main towers of the walls. I used to sit in the window reading and drawing as the day went by whilst my sister was schooled. She was learning how to sew, while I was learning to write. As I got older, I knew my days alone were numbered, so I watched the people instead. How they moved and lived their lives, greeting each other and exchanging food for livestock. It was a well oiled machine that I knew like the back of my hand.

"Luna," the maid panted as she pushed open the heavy wooden door of my room. "Your father has called for you all morning and needs to speak with you. He says he grows tired of waiting for you.".
"I grow tired of his complaining." I say as I hop down off the window and toss my long, burnt tangerine hair over my shoulder. My bare feet hit the stone floor and my white nightdress sways as the wind barges through the window. I pace over to my bed, where my overcoat is laid out for me. A soft pink and velvet material that is heavy to lift, keeps me warm as I walk the walls. It was my mothers and still feels like hers, she was my comfort blanket. I squeeze on my sheepskin slippers and walk over to the door, brushing past the maid as she bows her head in my passing. I trace my hand against the wall off the tower, as I canter down the spiral stairs to the main corridor of the wall. My canter shifts to a stomp, hearingss as my fathers voice carry through the hallway. I shift on my heel and spin myself into the grand hall. A long narrow room, with high stone ceilings and tall windows draped in shiny brown cloth. The room falls silent as I enter and everyone's head swivel to me.
"You called?" I say, as a tip up my chin and pretend to not be squashing myself in embarrassment.
"Luna, darling, it is the afternoon. Why haven't you dressed?" My father pressed, he's good with tradition, but today was a Thursday and I will dress for nobody if I do not need to.
"There is no need." hoping my response was cold enough, I fold my arms infront of my chest.
"There might be." he says as he turns to his squire, whispering into his ear from the large wooden armchair. My father is a height, over six feet, with a long brown wirey beard laced with small strands of white. When stood he is broad from being a fighter in his younger years, but as he mostly sits nowadays, he is also now broad round the middle. He looks young for his age and in his fourties, he is looking well. Dressed in long brown leather robes, tied together with a black leather belt round his waist, he sits in the chair of the grand hall. The chair was my playground and bed when I was younger. Draped in sheepskin and cowskin, it softens the wood under you, making it a perfect place for a nap when the courtyard gets too loud. The chair also being a perfect place to practice your reign if you should ever need.

"You need to wash." My sister comes to my side, looking forward to our father with her shoulders in line with mine. "You're beginning to look like you don't live here.". Gods, I could strangle her sometimes. My sister, Celestine, is a little shorter than me and 2 years younger. She is slim, fair like me, but her hair is almost white like mothers. Her eyebrows are dark like fathers but her eyes are blue like mothers too. She was always complimented on her appearance growing up, by maids and seamstresses, saying that she will do well for Longmoss just from her face alone. Me however, I stand tall too, my frame a little more strong and my eyes are the darkest brown, like Celestine says; similar to the mud in the court.

"You two are not out of the woods yet. I didn't call you in here to tell you that you need to dress or that your stitching needs work," I elbow my sister. "You two are twenty and eighteen, you should've been married off sooner." my father explains. I knew, being the oldest, that I am the one to go first. Thrilling. But then my sister, being the pretty one, was to be wed to a man as gift.
"I've written to Sandling," my sister and I sigh in unison. "There's been an agreement." I knew my sister was favoured by Cedar Sandling and strangely also his father Lord Birch Sandling. Cedar is a skinny man, with mousy hair and a hallow face. He is tall, granted, but then again so are all the Sandlings. He was average to look at, but his personality and demeanor made him sour. The Sandlings as a whole were copies of eachother, They all moved and spoke in the same way. A very strange family.
"After the conflict within the walls 10 years ago, the assistance from Sandling has been unmeasured and we owe them for that. They helped rebuild the walls, they helped feed our guards, they protected us. Lord Sandling wants to meet with you about your future, and after the meeting, our names will be joined as the North and South together."
I nudge my sister. "Lucky you."
My father stands.
"Luna, you're promised to Cedar Sandling."

My knees give way and my sister catches my stumble. I feel the eyes of the room on me and I become instantly blank. Why am I promised to Cedar? Cedar has enough command over his father to request Celestine as his wife. Cedar's parents had even chosen the children's names the two would bare. We all knew they were the chosen two and were a fit together. So why am I now stood here, held by my sister, being promised to a man so vulgar that I have refused to ever be in the same room with him.
I'm angered, and my late mother would be too.