THE STORY IN FOUR PARTS
The View of the Public
Shiederland has, for the past several centuries, been the most powerful kingdom in the world. The leaders, by some bizarre twist in nature, have all been just, fair, and strong. It has been the land of prosperity and well-being since its foundation. Other nations have cowered, too fearful of Shiederland's supreme military to attempt war or assassination.
King Jordin and Queen Enétre are beloved and known by their subjects as the Heart of the People, due to their benevolent nature. And when it became public that the Queen was to bear an heir to the throne, the people rejoiced for their King. He was sure to be strong and kind, a leader by any means. But after nine months, there was no announcement on the birth of an heir. The Queen disappeared from the public, and the King nearly vanished completely, appearing only at events where his presence was required. Rumor spread of a miscarriage, and in secret, the public mourned their beloved rulers' loss.
Yet again, there went out an announcement of the Queen's pregnancy, and the people dared to hope. But the odd cycle began again after nine months and no word on an heir. The King withdrew more and more, excusing himself even from church. The people forgave him: surely another miscarriage, and the poor couple needed to mourn in private. Patiently, the mass waited, loving their rulers so; enough not to pry.
The word spread throughout the kingdom of tragedy: the Queen had died of poisoning. Outraged, the people demanded justice. The police went out into the country, found a suspect, convicted him, and let him hang. This soothed the people's anger, yet, now more than ever, they felt for their noble king. He, who had lost two children and now his wife, was alone in his castle, nobody to mourn with.
As was the rule of the kingdom, the King had to take up another wife. He married a young lady, Lady Pylantra, from a neighboring country, thus tying the two nations together. The people were begrudging about his choice, but they trusted his judgement.
Soon after marriage, now-Queen Pylantra, who was not nearly as loved by the people as Queen Enétre, produced an heir successfully for the people. A healthy, beautiful baby boy. The young prince was named Daravon and for many years, this finally put an end to the King's worries.
The View of the Queen
Sitting up weakly in the tall, four-poster bed, the woman observed gravely as the priest said a prayer for her keep-safe. His words were chanted in a barely audible whisper that, in her state, sounded more like gibberish than anything else. Rolling onto her side in discomfort, tears streamed down her porcelain face and onto the immaculate silk-woven sheets. Her fist pounded the bed in her last display of defiance, but then rested feebly on the delicate surface.
"Geranna..." she murmured pleadingly, half-turning her angelic head to face a ghost-pale girl in a maid's uniform, who was watching in fear. The servant was really too young to be attending a woman in such grief, yet she had wanted to be with her. "Geranna, bring me my..."
"M... M'lady Enétre, you know... I... I..." the maid began, but wasn't able to finish. Her mistress's face, once comparable to the sunrise itself, was gaunt and had a thin sheen of sweat on it. Her voluminous red locks were matted against her face, hiding her radiant opal eyes. Her whole body was too weak to even hold itself up. In spite of all that though... she still considered her to be the most beautiful sight in the world. Covering her face with her hands, the young maid named Geranna let out a sob, ashamed in front of her mistress.
Seeing the girl's distress, Enétre's eyes softened as if she were observing her own child. "Sh, sh... It's okay. I know. I know. You have done well, Geranna."
"No, M'lady!" she cried, her hands now numb at her sides. "I failed you! To see you this miserable, I should have... I should have prevented it. I could have. There are so many different things that I... I..."
"Silence, foolish girl," the priest chastised, glaring at the hysterical maid sternly. "There is much work to be done yet, lest this be considered a murderous sin by Him. Open your prayer book, you silly girl, and recite the proper rites. Do you want to sentence our beloved lady and king to the fate of a wretched killer when they have done no wrong?"
Unable to utter a single syllable, the maid shook her head 'no', tears still streaming down her cheeks. Her face was red and puffy, and her core was shaking from the strength of the sobs. But, with great willpower, she managed to pull her prayer book out from her large front pocket, and, turning to the correct passage, she couldn't help but to recite without knowing what she was saying. The only thing in her mind was the window for action. There was only so much time that the child could be saved.
Don't cry, my Queen, she thought, half-delirious with hysteria. I will free him.
The View of the Maid
The night did not creep as it usually did. The sun charged ahead on wings, attacking the inky black sky with a fury and determination that Geranna had not known of before. Indeed, it seemed that everything was against her. And her mistress's happiness relied on the success of this wretched plight. Oh, how was it that they could act to blindly as to sentence the child... She shuddered, hugging the warm bundle closer to her chest. Courage is nothing in the shadow of my devotion to M'Lady, she thought elatedly, as, after an eternity of dancing about in the dark corridors and guarded edens of the palace grounds, she escaped the grounds through the servant's secluded entrace.
Breaking into a run, the hood of her burgundy velvet cloak falling back from the cool air fighting her progress, Geranna crossed the short field into the treeline, not stopping until her very legs threatened to give out. Utterly lost, but indifferent to that fact, she planted herself onto a half-decayed treestump, lowering the bundle into her lap to observe what exactly she had saved. In her arms lay the most precious thing she had ever seen: the resting eyes, delicately closed, beginnings of red wispy hair, freckles dotting chubby cheeks and nose, and then an animated yawn, resulting in one miniature hand grasping her finger for comfort. It was the heir to the throne of Shiederland. And they had intended to kill it.
How could they? A priest condoning and covering-it-up, nonetheless! What was so wrong about this child? It was a female, but that was no reason to mericlessly slaughter a baby. There had been many queen rulers in the past. Her eyes searched the peaceful sleeping form in wonderment. She was, potentially, holding the most powerful person in the world.
The sudden snap of several branches and an aggressive bark caused Geranna to grip the baby, holding it high on her chest protectively. A large wolf, the color of polished armor, came bounding into sight and halted right before her, its hackles raised and teeth bared. Its amber eyes narrowed, teeth snapping violently at Geranna's ankles. She cried and jumped up onto the stump. The wolf, although it didn't advance, started barking in irritation.
"Allegor, leave it," came a husky voice from a couple yards off. A young man, hardly five years Geranna's senior, leapt over a brace of fallen trees. The wolf was backing down now, the growling having completely ceased. It panted, looking benignly at both humans now.
"I must apologize," the man said, looking ashamed. He was wearing the common garb of a hunter, and even sported a good-sized bow with a brace of arrows on his back. "We were on the trail of a rare elk, and when Allegor starts tracking, it takes much to distract him."
"Ah, it is good to here that he is of use to you for your profession, though. I don't suppose that a wolf that didn't track well would be of much use, would it?" Geranna laughed politely at the small talk. Just then, the baby started crying. Her eyes darted down to the small bundle, then back up to the hunter. He noted her suspicious behavior and took a step forward.
"Your child?" he asked.
"No," she replied truthfully. She couldn't help it. His calm, grey eyes felt like the eyes of a confidant. "She's..."
"The King's?" he asked.
Her eyes widened in shock. "How did you... how is it possible for you to have known?!" she exclaimed, her arms tightening around the baby protectively. If this man brought her back, they would kill the heir!
"I didn't," he chuckled morbidly. "But it's better to accuse and then apologize for being wrong, then to ask what's right and never know. I believe, M'Lady, that you have committed treason in the highest degree. Do you know what the penalty for that is?"
A passionate blaze suddenly errupted in her body. Her hands shook with a mixture of fury and love; fury for the injustices of the King's ideas and love for the Queen herself. Her head angled downward to the man from her perch as she proclaimed, "I do not care what they do to me. Behead me, burn me, hang me, it is all inevitable and the same to me. The only purpose my life serves at the moment is to get this child to safety; this safety lies beyond the bounds of the castle and possibly the kingdom. This is because the very King himself ordered this child, his own daughter, to be killed. He planned to cover the murder as a miscarriage, but oh! how M'Lady suffers from the woe of the loss of her child. I had not told her my intention to escape with the child, for she would have tried to stop me out of love for me. But I shall not lay down to die until, and only until, I have this child, child of my Queen, to safety."
The man was silent for a moment. He had watched her eyes the entire time, and either she spoke the truth, or was convinced that this untruth was not a lie. Raising his hand to her to help her down, he said in a firm voice, "You are very brave, M'Lady, to have come this far for your Mistress. I would take you as my own and we could, together, keep this child safe. Would you do me that honor?"
"No, I cannot," she replied bitterly, although, slowly, handed him the warm bundle. "My face is known to the King himself: if I and the baby were to disappear, would he not know whom to hunt? I am afraid that I will endanger the very life I am trying to save."
"Indeed," the man replied solemnly. Looking down into her passionate eyes, he said carefully, "I will have the honor of caring for our Queen's child, if you could also honor me with a single kiss."
Geranna's face reddened, and she spouted indignantly, "You talk of triffle things, like kisses, in this time of great peril. Have you no sense man? Quickly, take the baby. I must depart if I am to get back in time for the sun to rise."
"M'Lady, you have arrested my soul. A single kiss, and I would be satisfied to have known a woman of true heart for the rest of my life. Indulge me, woman. I am a man of few desires, but the feel of your rosey lips on mine is one..."
Before he could go on, Geranna pecked his cheek with as much modesty as she could retain, before handing him the baby and running off. It was best to run, for she didn't know if she could keep going if she paused to bid adieu to the young princess. Declaring herself utterly disgusted by the man's brash behavior, her heart couldn't help but to flutter at the touch of their skin. And, although she didn't want to admit it, there were now two loves in her life: her mistress and the man in the forest.
The View of the Man in the Forest
Dear father above, this child would not stop crying. He had tried everything, from rocking it, to feeding it, to burping it. Nothing seemed to work. The first child he had sworn to protect, Nienne he called her, was now at his knee, and followed him into the woods every now and then. She was curious and loud, a firebrand. Even in her youth, she resembled the dearly departed Queen in every way: the same wavy red locks, feral and mystifying golden eyes, fair, milky skin. Nienne is what he called her because it meant Angel in the old language, as she most surely looked like one. But her antics tested the man's patience. That, and caring now for a second child: a boy, he named Redrick (Warrior). He had yet to grow hair, but his baby-blues were reminiscient of the King.
Redrick wouldn't eat. Nienne had tried to help, and whenever she could, Geranna would escape the castle confines to care for the children. But the baby was adamant in his refusal of food. After all the tragedy she'd been through, Geranna feared that she would lose the Queen's final reminder of the oath the maid took. But just when all hope was lost, Redrick grew an appetite and ate like a normal child. Soon, he was healthy, and Geranna could tend the open wounds that had never truly healed.
The man, although loving of his new charges, wished that Geranna would stay with them. He had seen no other woman half her statute, and he knew that he never would. But Geranna had sworn so many binding oaths of fealty to the King and his new ladyship, Pylantra, it was impossible. Impossible. The very definition of the word burned at him night and day as he longed for nothing more than to sit with the children, cozy in their home, and have Geranna come to visit, but stay for good. She was the only woman that Allegor actually trusted; he'd go up to her to be petted whenever she came, and she'd always spare a moment to stoke his silver head.
One day, though, a troop of soldiers came knocking. They demanded to see the children of the residency. Nienne had, bless her, come out and kicked the leader in the leg. This had prompted the leader to kick her and deem them not worth the effort. The only thing that had prevented the man from the forest from beating the very breath out of the soldier was the new dark thoughts: they were searching for the children. He went to Nienne and held her as she cried, glaring at the men as they left. It was time to leave or risk the saftey of the children. He had made a promise to Geranna, and even if that meant leaving her alone in this sad place, it had to be done. During the night, the man fled with Redrick and Nienne to a country unknown.
The View of the Public
Shiederland has, for the past several centuries, been the most powerful kingdom in the world. The leaders, by some bizarre twist in nature, have all been just, fair, and strong. It has been the land of prosperity and well-being since its foundation. Other nations have cowered, too fearful of Shiederland's supreme military to attempt war or assassination.
King Jordin and Queen Enétre are beloved and known by their subjects as the Heart of the People, due to their benevolent nature. And when it became public that the Queen was to bear an heir to the throne, the people rejoiced for their King. He was sure to be strong and kind, a leader by any means. But after nine months, there was no announcement on the birth of an heir. The Queen disappeared from the public, and the King nearly vanished completely, appearing only at events where his presence was required. Rumor spread of a miscarriage, and in secret, the public mourned their beloved rulers' loss.
Yet again, there went out an announcement of the Queen's pregnancy, and the people dared to hope. But the odd cycle began again after nine months and no word on an heir. The King withdrew more and more, excusing himself even from church. The people forgave him: surely another miscarriage, and the poor couple needed to mourn in private. Patiently, the mass waited, loving their rulers so; enough not to pry.
The word spread throughout the kingdom of tragedy: the Queen had died of poisoning. Outraged, the people demanded justice. The police went out into the country, found a suspect, convicted him, and let him hang. This soothed the people's anger, yet, now more than ever, they felt for their noble king. He, who had lost two children and now his wife, was alone in his castle, nobody to mourn with.
As was the rule of the kingdom, the King had to take up another wife. He married a young lady, Lady Pylantra, from a neighboring country, thus tying the two nations together. The people were begrudging about his choice, but they trusted his judgement.
Soon after marriage, now-Queen Pylantra, who was not nearly as loved by the people as Queen Enétre, produced an heir successfully for the people. A healthy, beautiful baby boy. The young prince was named Daravon and for many years, this finally put an end to the King's worries.
The View of the Queen
Sitting up weakly in the tall, four-poster bed, the woman observed gravely as the priest said a prayer for her keep-safe. His words were chanted in a barely audible whisper that, in her state, sounded more like gibberish than anything else. Rolling onto her side in discomfort, tears streamed down her porcelain face and onto the immaculate silk-woven sheets. Her fist pounded the bed in her last display of defiance, but then rested feebly on the delicate surface.
"Geranna..." she murmured pleadingly, half-turning her angelic head to face a ghost-pale girl in a maid's uniform, who was watching in fear. The servant was really too young to be attending a woman in such grief, yet she had wanted to be with her. "Geranna, bring me my..."
"M... M'lady Enétre, you know... I... I..." the maid began, but wasn't able to finish. Her mistress's face, once comparable to the sunrise itself, was gaunt and had a thin sheen of sweat on it. Her voluminous red locks were matted against her face, hiding her radiant opal eyes. Her whole body was too weak to even hold itself up. In spite of all that though... she still considered her to be the most beautiful sight in the world. Covering her face with her hands, the young maid named Geranna let out a sob, ashamed in front of her mistress.
Seeing the girl's distress, Enétre's eyes softened as if she were observing her own child. "Sh, sh... It's okay. I know. I know. You have done well, Geranna."
"No, M'lady!" she cried, her hands now numb at her sides. "I failed you! To see you this miserable, I should have... I should have prevented it. I could have. There are so many different things that I... I..."
"Silence, foolish girl," the priest chastised, glaring at the hysterical maid sternly. "There is much work to be done yet, lest this be considered a murderous sin by Him. Open your prayer book, you silly girl, and recite the proper rites. Do you want to sentence our beloved lady and king to the fate of a wretched killer when they have done no wrong?"
Unable to utter a single syllable, the maid shook her head 'no', tears still streaming down her cheeks. Her face was red and puffy, and her core was shaking from the strength of the sobs. But, with great willpower, she managed to pull her prayer book out from her large front pocket, and, turning to the correct passage, she couldn't help but to recite without knowing what she was saying. The only thing in her mind was the window for action. There was only so much time that the child could be saved.
Don't cry, my Queen, she thought, half-delirious with hysteria. I will free him.
The View of the Maid
The night did not creep as it usually did. The sun charged ahead on wings, attacking the inky black sky with a fury and determination that Geranna had not known of before. Indeed, it seemed that everything was against her. And her mistress's happiness relied on the success of this wretched plight. Oh, how was it that they could act to blindly as to sentence the child... She shuddered, hugging the warm bundle closer to her chest. Courage is nothing in the shadow of my devotion to M'Lady, she thought elatedly, as, after an eternity of dancing about in the dark corridors and guarded edens of the palace grounds, she escaped the grounds through the servant's secluded entrace.
Breaking into a run, the hood of her burgundy velvet cloak falling back from the cool air fighting her progress, Geranna crossed the short field into the treeline, not stopping until her very legs threatened to give out. Utterly lost, but indifferent to that fact, she planted herself onto a half-decayed treestump, lowering the bundle into her lap to observe what exactly she had saved. In her arms lay the most precious thing she had ever seen: the resting eyes, delicately closed, beginnings of red wispy hair, freckles dotting chubby cheeks and nose, and then an animated yawn, resulting in one miniature hand grasping her finger for comfort. It was the heir to the throne of Shiederland. And they had intended to kill it.
How could they? A priest condoning and covering-it-up, nonetheless! What was so wrong about this child? It was a female, but that was no reason to mericlessly slaughter a baby. There had been many queen rulers in the past. Her eyes searched the peaceful sleeping form in wonderment. She was, potentially, holding the most powerful person in the world.
The sudden snap of several branches and an aggressive bark caused Geranna to grip the baby, holding it high on her chest protectively. A large wolf, the color of polished armor, came bounding into sight and halted right before her, its hackles raised and teeth bared. Its amber eyes narrowed, teeth snapping violently at Geranna's ankles. She cried and jumped up onto the stump. The wolf, although it didn't advance, started barking in irritation.
"Allegor, leave it," came a husky voice from a couple yards off. A young man, hardly five years Geranna's senior, leapt over a brace of fallen trees. The wolf was backing down now, the growling having completely ceased. It panted, looking benignly at both humans now.
"I must apologize," the man said, looking ashamed. He was wearing the common garb of a hunter, and even sported a good-sized bow with a brace of arrows on his back. "We were on the trail of a rare elk, and when Allegor starts tracking, it takes much to distract him."
"Ah, it is good to here that he is of use to you for your profession, though. I don't suppose that a wolf that didn't track well would be of much use, would it?" Geranna laughed politely at the small talk. Just then, the baby started crying. Her eyes darted down to the small bundle, then back up to the hunter. He noted her suspicious behavior and took a step forward.
"Your child?" he asked.
"No," she replied truthfully. She couldn't help it. His calm, grey eyes felt like the eyes of a confidant. "She's..."
"The King's?" he asked.
Her eyes widened in shock. "How did you... how is it possible for you to have known?!" she exclaimed, her arms tightening around the baby protectively. If this man brought her back, they would kill the heir!
"I didn't," he chuckled morbidly. "But it's better to accuse and then apologize for being wrong, then to ask what's right and never know. I believe, M'Lady, that you have committed treason in the highest degree. Do you know what the penalty for that is?"
A passionate blaze suddenly errupted in her body. Her hands shook with a mixture of fury and love; fury for the injustices of the King's ideas and love for the Queen herself. Her head angled downward to the man from her perch as she proclaimed, "I do not care what they do to me. Behead me, burn me, hang me, it is all inevitable and the same to me. The only purpose my life serves at the moment is to get this child to safety; this safety lies beyond the bounds of the castle and possibly the kingdom. This is because the very King himself ordered this child, his own daughter, to be killed. He planned to cover the murder as a miscarriage, but oh! how M'Lady suffers from the woe of the loss of her child. I had not told her my intention to escape with the child, for she would have tried to stop me out of love for me. But I shall not lay down to die until, and only until, I have this child, child of my Queen, to safety."
The man was silent for a moment. He had watched her eyes the entire time, and either she spoke the truth, or was convinced that this untruth was not a lie. Raising his hand to her to help her down, he said in a firm voice, "You are very brave, M'Lady, to have come this far for your Mistress. I would take you as my own and we could, together, keep this child safe. Would you do me that honor?"
"No, I cannot," she replied bitterly, although, slowly, handed him the warm bundle. "My face is known to the King himself: if I and the baby were to disappear, would he not know whom to hunt? I am afraid that I will endanger the very life I am trying to save."
"Indeed," the man replied solemnly. Looking down into her passionate eyes, he said carefully, "I will have the honor of caring for our Queen's child, if you could also honor me with a single kiss."
Geranna's face reddened, and she spouted indignantly, "You talk of triffle things, like kisses, in this time of great peril. Have you no sense man? Quickly, take the baby. I must depart if I am to get back in time for the sun to rise."
"M'Lady, you have arrested my soul. A single kiss, and I would be satisfied to have known a woman of true heart for the rest of my life. Indulge me, woman. I am a man of few desires, but the feel of your rosey lips on mine is one..."
Before he could go on, Geranna pecked his cheek with as much modesty as she could retain, before handing him the baby and running off. It was best to run, for she didn't know if she could keep going if she paused to bid adieu to the young princess. Declaring herself utterly disgusted by the man's brash behavior, her heart couldn't help but to flutter at the touch of their skin. And, although she didn't want to admit it, there were now two loves in her life: her mistress and the man in the forest.
The View of the Man in the Forest
Dear father above, this child would not stop crying. He had tried everything, from rocking it, to feeding it, to burping it. Nothing seemed to work. The first child he had sworn to protect, Nienne he called her, was now at his knee, and followed him into the woods every now and then. She was curious and loud, a firebrand. Even in her youth, she resembled the dearly departed Queen in every way: the same wavy red locks, feral and mystifying golden eyes, fair, milky skin. Nienne is what he called her because it meant Angel in the old language, as she most surely looked like one. But her antics tested the man's patience. That, and caring now for a second child: a boy, he named Redrick (Warrior). He had yet to grow hair, but his baby-blues were reminiscient of the King.
Redrick wouldn't eat. Nienne had tried to help, and whenever she could, Geranna would escape the castle confines to care for the children. But the baby was adamant in his refusal of food. After all the tragedy she'd been through, Geranna feared that she would lose the Queen's final reminder of the oath the maid took. But just when all hope was lost, Redrick grew an appetite and ate like a normal child. Soon, he was healthy, and Geranna could tend the open wounds that had never truly healed.
The man, although loving of his new charges, wished that Geranna would stay with them. He had seen no other woman half her statute, and he knew that he never would. But Geranna had sworn so many binding oaths of fealty to the King and his new ladyship, Pylantra, it was impossible. Impossible. The very definition of the word burned at him night and day as he longed for nothing more than to sit with the children, cozy in their home, and have Geranna come to visit, but stay for good. She was the only woman that Allegor actually trusted; he'd go up to her to be petted whenever she came, and she'd always spare a moment to stoke his silver head.
One day, though, a troop of soldiers came knocking. They demanded to see the children of the residency. Nienne had, bless her, come out and kicked the leader in the leg. This had prompted the leader to kick her and deem them not worth the effort. The only thing that had prevented the man from the forest from beating the very breath out of the soldier was the new dark thoughts: they were searching for the children. He went to Nienne and held her as she cried, glaring at the men as they left. It was time to leave or risk the saftey of the children. He had made a promise to Geranna, and even if that meant leaving her alone in this sad place, it had to be done. During the night, the man fled with Redrick and Nienne to a country unknown.
