Dedication to ashsmexy for the amazing cover :)
Ok, this is an old story that I wrote years and years ago. I was looking through it the other day, surprised by how much I had written, but I also cringed at several aspects of it. You can tell I was an immature kid. But I've always had a soft spot for the story, so I figured some of you might enjoy it. I'll update on a regular basis. My other stories will continue, its just that I'm finishing my degree and don't have a lot of brain power to spare on writing new stuff on a regular basis.
Well, give it a try!
-Aemi
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Gold. If there was anything that my family loved more than themselves, it was gold. This is not, by any means, a brilliant remark– one look at us would have told you as much. We were covered in it. That which could not be found on our persons could be found in the glasses we drank from, the enormous palaces we lived in, in the dark storerooms, in the thrones we sat upon. Gold is wealth, wealth is power, and power is everything. Isn't it?
Well, we thought we thought so. It was obvious that my family had not been in power as long as they would have liked, for they were not as yet accustomed to their glory, and the words moderation in decoration were never heard on anyone's lips. Five generations had not yet quite made the impression that one would hope. Perhaps they needed another five generations to begin to cultivate the art of restraint in jewellery. If they lasted that long.
Not that we were that particular. Silver did just as well as gold in a pinch. And there was no need to stay at pure and simple gold. My family was open-minded. We embraced a break from simple gold. We used all sorts of precious stones. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and amethysts. These often managed to overthrow the love of gold. To show how condescending we could be, we even stooped to the level of aquamarines, citrines, turquoise, and amber at times. I say "we", because everyone else (ordinary people, people lower than the claim to royalty) thought of us as a pack, a clan. I don't blame them. Royals and their close friends are like a clan, accessible only by marriage or blood, with the most vicious rows between them.
I distinguish myself apart from the mongrels I associated with. I was, after all, only connected to them by birth, not choice. The distinction is lost on most people. I lived with them, and looked like them- ridiculously bedecked in jewels and gold. Fortunately for us, gold goes rather well with the colour saffron. I, like all people in the country in which I was forced to take up residence, believed that saffron was the most beautiful colour in all the world. The favourite colours varied, from country to country of course. In my country the colour was saffron. In Chumbere, it was jade. In Hyderi it was amber, in Angosa it was crystal, in Remootas it was turquoise. There were other colours just as unoriginal as the above mentioned, for other countries. My own vain country, with Hyderi and Angosa, were the three most powerful (and decidedly wealthy) countries in all the land between the two seas. The land between the two seas it what I will limit myself to, as the rest of the world was not as well known, and is immaterial to my story.
I am afraid that you will not understand the structure and system of the world I lived in. It was very different, and starts long ago. Know this then – everyone lived in awe and fear of the ruler, and the golden rule was: pleasure above pain, but not if giving someone else pain was for the benefit of royal pleasure. Perhaps you will not find it so hard to grasp after all. Little changes with the times, only the difference in what is demanded of people. Love, hate, greed, war, peace, fear, respect, order and chaos do not change. Only what is expected. And now what do you expect of me? A person that would fit in nicely into your world, a person you feel you are superior to, a person you are in awe of, or a person who has insulted you and your beliefs? I don't give a damn really. Your opinion on the subject is utterly useless. There is no need to feel insulted. Keep in mind, as royalty I do not even have to apologise. I say such a horrid thing only in view of the fact that you do not know me. Never assume you have the answer, the explanation, the knowledge that allows everything to settle into its place, and places your enemies beneath you.
For in fact, you do not know me– you have never heard my name. But once my name and face were known to all. Slave children to the richest King– they all worshipped me, and held my image dear. But that was long ago. My time has long been erased from your history books, so you will have to take everything I tell you for granted. Never fear. I know more than any history instructor of my time could tell you. But I could still be writing a string of lies and you would never know.
Well, the hypothetical string of lies starts long ago. Perhaps not in a count of time, but in a count of memories. So few of them are written down and printed for the world to see. Sad really. Then again I would not want to know much of what was thought by my family members when I was still living with them. Spare me the agony. But I have thought my own thoughts at least once before, and I don’t suppose it will hurt me too much to bring them up once more. Then again, the farther I go back in time, the farther into detail it will only cause me greater pain. But for my story, and my time to finally be told to the world I will go back in time, and try to remember what I thought and felt when I was only fourteen: an angry, stubborn, and intimidating, frightened and lonely girl. No one has ever hated as passionately as I did in the years to follow.
A word I would use to describe myself would be headstrong or clear-minded. Most people would agree with the headstrong bit, although they would rather rephrase it as stubborn as stone. Ironically, instead of clear-minded they would say I was mad. I am the first and only daughter, second child and third heir apparent to a great warrior king. I believe my full title is Princess Eadlin Holly Adeline Amelié Zafery Vevila Adetta Genevieve Elenor of Jemevira, Duchess of Genomere and Bridley, Countess of Bartlelock, Lady of the House of Laurain, and third heir apparent to His Majesty King Leonard I of Jemevira, of Saffron House. Much too much of a mouthful to use for everyday purpose. Mother insisted that my first name be Eadlin, her country’s ancient word for princess, and Holly as an easier name for Jemevirans to pronounce, but the King insisted Adeline after his grandmother. The King used to call me Adeline when we were alone, Eadlin when Mother was in the room. Now no one calls me Eadlin. You know society is going mad when no one calls you by your first name although you wish it so.
Actually you will never hear ‘Lady of the House of Laurain’ being said with my title, except among a very private circle of my mother's family. I am the oldest living female born into my mother’s family. Actually I am the only female alive born into the family. My mother had only brothers, they are married and only have sons. My grandmother on my mother’s side died even before Mother.
The House of Laurain is old royalty. Before the invasion of Jemeviran royalty and Angosan royalty and others like it, the House of Laurain and the House of Holdui ruled all the land between the two seas. The invaders slaughtered all the royal family members of both houses, down to third cousins, but a queen of the House of the Laurain survived. Somehow she told them some story of visiting Laurain to negotiate the price of diamonds, and they believed it. Idiot barbarians. But one should never complain of the stupidity of one's enemies. So the House of Laurain continues, while barbarians are bedecked in jewels, failing to learn of modesty in jewellery.
Women have always ruled in the houses of Laurain and Holdui. I am the most royal person between the two seas, but no one knows it except the small circle of Mother’s two brothers, their wives, and children. All who are obsessed with my safety and the secrecy of our heritage. We somehow were granted a small piece of land, and thus the House of Laurain controlled the small weak country of Chumbere. For generations, princesses of Chumbere have married into the most powerful and influential countries, and have thus evaded the conquering of Chumbere. Such was the reasoning behind my mother’s marriage, the Princess of Chumbere, Elise of Jade House, to the King of Jemevira.
It is the custom that two years must pass between the time when one Lady dies and the next is crowned. Strange, but designed in case a Lady is presumed dead, another one is crowned, the old one shows up again, and a dispute forms. Cases of emergency are an exception. So I only became Lady four years ago.
Now I suppose you wish for an explanation as to why most of the people of my country believe me mad. Well the short explanation is that it’s because I spend hours every day bouncing a ball off a wall. And since that can’t count that as much of an explanation in anyone's mind, I’m afraid I’ll have to give you the long version.
It starts with my mother. My predecessor of the House of Laurain. The people of Jemevira used to call her headstrong. And she was. She made the King let her sit in at war meetings, and councils. She listened to what they said and afterward she gave her opinions to King Leonard. She knew about war tactics and strategy. When the castle was besieged, she even fired a few weapons to help. His Majesty loved her dearly, and she gave him two heirs. One male heir, and me. Women may rule in Jemevira, although the men will rule first, whether older or younger. She died when I was eight, my brother almost eleven. The whole castle was heartbroken, and we mourned for more than a year.
Afterwards, that was when King Leonard took up conquering. Before Elise’s death, he fought in wars only if we were invaded, or threatened. But afterward he took all the land he could. And he’s still at it. Well as King Leonard now being a warrior king, I have seen a fair share of war. Though none here at the palace, so my life has been in no threat as a direct result of war. But I believe someday I will be in a war. And King Leonard will be defeated one day. He has been successful so far but he cannot be so always. What goes up must come down, as my old nurse used to say. His enemies will one day unite to attack us. And he has many enemies. Far more so than friends. When that day comes he will need every solider that he can muster. And I will be with him, standing at his side, as my mother once was, silently manipulating him to support Chumbere whatever the cost. I throw a ball against a high wall repeatedly every day so I will have enough arm muscles when the day comes that I will have to fire a catapult. My mother always set great store in Ladies of Laurain being as physically fit as any high-ranking knight, excelling on horseback, in archery, and sword and dagger fighting, even to the point of pushing human limits.
I have two brothers. One older, one younger. One blood brother, one half brother. They are useless. When the time for war comes, neither will be any good to King Leonard, though this fact is a great help to me. My younger brother Beacan would sooner embroider than put on a suit of armour. Soft, lily-white hands. I know the King wishes that I would act more like Beacan, and he more like me. But that can’t be helped. My older brother, Adrian, is very different from Beacan. He knows his war history, and how to deal with battle I suppose. But he’ll never command an army troop until he gets he head out of his bum. Literally speaking. Every time I speak to him I feel like taking a pin, puncturing his head and seeing how much air comes out of it. I imagine a great deal.
I suppose looking at Adrian you could call him handsome. But he isn’t. Beauty comes from the inside. But we humans are shallow, and look first at a face. Adrian is an incredibly vain and huffy person. He may look like he has a good build, but really he has the most scrawny shoulders I have ever seen. He wears shoulder pads sewn into everything, even his dressing gown, even his nightshirt. It’s really quite funny.
He also wears a flimsy dress sword all the time, even inspecting an army troop. A real sword is too heavy he says. It’s bad for his posture. Idiot. I commented on it once, to his despair, as a group of girls went by. The dress sword even has golden chains wrapped around it, from sheath’s end to hilt. He could never draw it in an emergency. Bad for his posture.
Well back to me being mad I suppose. I do well in my lessons. And my tutors are a bit intimidated by me. I have that effect on most people. I don’t try to avoid this though. So my tutors usually let me out when I finish my work (languages, history, strategy, and maths) almost all of them relating to war, instead of keeping me the full time the Queen wishes. Well, better put, the King wishes, but he won’t have anything to do with me. Girls are not really supposed to learn these things, but it was my mother's wish, and the King respects it. My governess teaches me useless things such as embroidery, etiquette, music, singing, calligraphy, dancing, diplomacy in the face of a would be enemy etc. I know most of it, and now she is kept as a sensible companion for me. But as she is getting old, she tends to fall asleep quite easily, and it makes it very easy for me to sneak out.
So after languages and fifteen minutes of singing and playing, I am free to go down to my little courtyard. It’s tucked away enough so I am not constantly disturbed. But I have discovered it’s revealed enough for people to think I’m mad. Obviously its not that important or the rumours of me being mad haven’t reached his ears, or the King would have sent someone to talk to me, or the Queen would have come to speak to me. Queen Alesa is all right I suppose, but she also is intimidated by me. I would have never guessed that a person, a queen no less, could be so vain about their status and looks, and still be intimidated by their own stepdaughter. I suspect that she is afraid of being compared to me, so like my late mother, against whom she could not hold a candle. She hates speaking to me, but ironically she is the person that I see the most of in my so-called family.
I already know how such a conversation would go. She would suggest something, I would make a point of something with no possible logical answer, again she would suggest something, and around and around we would go, until she mentioned the King, I asked why he had not come himself, she would turn an extraordinarily interesting shade of pink and be incredibly vexed with me, try to put me in my place, then go away.
Well, nothing would make the King speak to me, unless I was on the verge of upsetting some conquering he had to go and do, his life was in mortal peril, and he had no servants at his disposal.
As I was saying, down in the courtyard I have a ball that I bounce against the highest wall. It’s no ordinary ball mind. I had it weighted with as much lead as it would hold, and still bounce back. That’s not a great amount of lead, I know, but it gives it enough weight. I throw it hard too, so at the end of the day, that's a heavy ball to be throwing constantly at a wall and catch again. The first day that I was practising, the impact the ball gave as it came back was so great, I fell down.
Now it seems terribly boring, throwing that heavy ball for hours on end, with no purpose but an event that I think will happen. So as time went by I started to realise this, and subconsciously I began to sing. I received my singing talents from King Leonard. My mother had no musical talents worth whispering about, neither do my brothers. Alesa has a good voice, but she plays the harp best. His Majesty can sing, but he never does, as it is not kingly like. So I turn out to be the only one performing with Alesa every seasonal celebration. She's such a jittery creature around other people, afraid they will question her authority that she hits half the wrong notes, so it’s very hard to sing with her. I try by singing loudly every time I know she’ll get it wrong, but those are not the best guidelines to go by. Her vanity demands that all the courtiers praise her ability in music all night, and she is usually very smug by the end of Midsummer or Midwinter.
So anyway, singing. Ah yes, I started singing without noticing. I can’t tell you how long I did this not heeding, but no matter. I started noticing one day when a passing servant remarked,
“That’s very good, Your Highness, it sounds better than at the parties during the celebrations. You should sing all year round. But I would sing a different song if I were you, my princess.”
I remember staring at her stunned until coming out of my daze, calling out, just before she turned the corner,
”Wait please, my good woman!”
It is the custom in Jemevira of nobles to call servants my good man or woman if one does not know their name. Of the more polite nobles at least. The King would simply shout "Servant!" or "Girl!" even if it was an old woman he was addressing.
“Please, what song was I singing?”
Now she looked stunned.
“Your, Your Highness” she stuttered, “You were singing ‘What If The World Went To War’”.
I remember my jaw dropping a mile. Perhaps this doesn't have the effect on you that it did on me. ‘What If The World Went To World’ was a song made up by a Jemeviran peasant. It is not the most flattering to His Majesty. Although it does not state his name, or any king in that sense, nor Jemevira, it is quite clear what the peasant was referring to. The song basically says that war should only be fought for a good cause, and since there was no good cause for war, we shouldn’t have any wars. Then it adds a few details about what sort of man would go to war. To put it simply. As a warrior king who needed his people, including the peasants on his side, no matter how egotistical he is, King Leonard did not appreciate this.
He had the man taken to the borders of Jemevira and told never to set a toe into the country or any land they might conquer in future, under the pain of slow death by torture. The song is banned, but you cannot stop these things, and the song is still sung in pubs or in the country. No one dares to sing it in the palace. As the daughter of the warrior king, I certainly shouldn’t have been singing it, although I doubt His Royal Majesty cared enough about me to behead me for it. From then on I was forever conscious of what I was singing. It is a very good song though.