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Post by ilovestark on Jul 27, 2009 19:53:18 GMT -5
Okay, here's a story I've started writing, not sure if it's any good. Can you guys tell me what you think?
-Jessica, Chapter One: The Chase
“Alysa!” my father yelled, exasperated, as anyone would be chasing after me. Father looked as if he had never ran a day in his life. But I knew it was not so. In his younger days, Father was the best runner the Menalins ever had. But going to war and witnessing his most trusted companion being slaughtered right in front of his eyes had left its mark and, more particularly, drained him of the fire that kept him hopeful until the very end. Now, he just looked like any king would, save for the fact that servants should be chasing me and not him. Foolish King of Menala! He and I both knew that he lost his drive to run many years ago, and even if he still possessed it, he could not outrun me now. My sheltered world of Canaria blew past me as if I was in a chariot being pulled by five horses. I found myself laughing hysterically as if this was somehow amusing. It only took another scream of “Alysa!” to pull me from my fantasy and bring me back to reality. My father was chasing me. The only time he ever will chase me is if he has bad news. The last time he chased me was when Lysimachus was killed in battle, but Father said that my brother had died with honor. Who cares about honor? My father, certainly, but honor will not bring my oldest brother back to me, and it would not make me forget the countless days I spent locked in Lysimachus’ room, holding his armor, his clothes, inhaling the smell of my brother, my favorite brother. Theophilus and Hyacinthus were still alive, of course, but I hated them with a hate that even the earth-shaker Poseidon would find unbearable. Through with the memory, I again refocus on Lucosia Garden, my favorite afternoon oasis. It was named after my mother, Lucosianica, the most noble Menalin queen there ever was. She died after giving birth to Theophilus and Hyacinthus some eight years ago, but the twins still call Marianteus their mother. How appalling! How could anyone so foolish and naïve be even thought to be their mother. The thought repulsed me so much that I wanted to throw up my midday meal, but I had no intentions of slowing down. Father will either have to catch up or he’ll have to kill me.
Chapter Two: The News
As soon as I reached the Copian Sea, I snuck a look over my shoulder and was satisfied to see Father huffing and puffing against a tree a mile away. I smiled at the thought at how long it will take him to again start running after me. A glass of wine, perhaps, and maybe he will call his chariot to chase me instead. I smiled even wider at the thought of that challenge. He will have to bring many horses to catch me, and if he doesn’t it will take time to get more. By then, I will be long gone. Maybe I could go to Heracleitus in Sisirus. He would take me in as if I was his daughter. But, yet again, we were old lovers. Back about seven years ago, when I was about eight, Father’s friend from Sisirus, Clitus, came to visit Canaria. I was overjoyed, but Father told me that Clitus had a son two years older than me. I was immediately upset because boys brought nothing but trouble and insults, but Father explained to me that Heracleitus was different. According to Father, his mother had taught him the art of charm. I was still unmoved, but Father said to wait and see how attracted I would become to Heracleitus. I asked him why he would even bother bringing the prince of Sisirus to the palace. Didn’t he have better things to do? Father wouldn’t say any more on the subject, but Lysamicus later explained to me that Father had hopes that Heracleitus and I would find an attraction for one another, and that he and I would marry one day. Too little to understand the importance of an arranged marriage, I was disgusted by that and vowed to never love a man. As soon as Heracleitus set foot in our summer palace at Rhetorionia, I found him very attractive for a young man, and I fell in love with him. The charm didn’t have to work for me, for I was already bound to this one. My heart exploded every time he talked to me or held my hand. His warm skin against mine felt like they were meant for each other. One thing led to another, and we were a couple. Heracleitus impressively persuaded Clitus to let him stay at the palace for a few more months, saying, “Alysa would take a little bit more convincing”. What Clitus didn’t know is that I would unthinkingly do anything for Heracleitus, and he would for me. Father was bursting with happiness, as his plan worked to his advantage. Heracleitus and I loved each other, and that made two allied kingdoms. However, I soon found out that instead of Heracleitus and I being wedded, Heracleitus’ sister and Lyamicus were arranged to be married. My heart literally died that day, as I knew that Father would use me to ally another kingdom, except this time I doubt I would love anyone like I loved Heracleitus. I sighed as I remembered that day, shedding a small tear in the process. I will never forget Heracleitus, and I will never let Father erase the memories I have of him, as much as he tries. Every year around the day of my birthday a prince, soon to be crowned, would arrive at our beach palace near the Copian Sea unexpectedly. Is it too hard to guess that all the young princes were in search of a young and royal bride? Every time that they came, Father would arrange certain meetings between the princes and I: a walk along the sea, walking to the temple together, attending a chariot race... They were all designed for the princes to have a chance to win my hand, but I was as stubborn as Father. I would not give in to his trickery, but I was still watching, attempting to find a man nearly as charming as Heracleitus. My fourteenth birthday is tomorrow, and I suspect that the bad news that Father brings me is that of another “unexpected royal guest”. I was sure that, because I am growing in age and maturity, I will be expecting more suitors and more of Father’s pathetic attempts to create an alliance that will have Miratophy, our sworn enemy, shaking in their sandals. When I returned from my distant memory, I was exhausted. I felt as if I had ran from Sisirus and back in less than a day, and decided that I was in need of a short sleep. Reassured that Father was long behind me, I closed my eyes and succumbed to sleep. When I woke up, I was not at the beach where I had been resting. I was in my room at our beach palace, wearing a brand-new robe as white as pearls. My handmaiden Carysa then entered the room, with eyes that expressed guilt. I was not angry with her, and never could be. We had grown up together, as her mother was my nurse and then, when she was old and grey, passed the responsibility to Carysa. Carysa was more loyal than a best friend, and she never did anything that had a slight possibility of harming me. I loved her as I would my own sister, if I had any. Carysa came in and quietly said with remorse, “My lady, if I had any idea of what they were subjecting you to, I would have stopped them immediately!” She dropped to her knees and started sobbing, but I couldn’t pay enough attention to comfort her. What were “they” subjecting me to? Was my father a part of it? I dropped to my knees with her and jerked her chin up. She avoided my eyes, as if it was her doing that I was dragged back here against my will. “What do you mean, Carysa?” I asked, “what are they subjecting me to?” “I was ordered not to tell you, my lady. I have strict orders from your father, King Menalinus, not to explain the situation to you, but I feel that you already know what is happening”, sobbed Carysa. My mind spun back in reverse, searching for a time when there had been a similar pattern as to the one now. The last time that Father chased me was when Lysimachus was killed in battle, but I had no more elder brothers that could be killed. Theophilus and Hyacinthus were no older than seven, surely not old enough to venture into battle with youths from Menala. So who was killed? The only person I could think of that was so important to chase me down and then drag me back to the palace would be Heracleitus! My heart broke in two as I thought this awful, terrifying thought. Heracleitus and I were meant to be together, I was sure of it. How could the Gods take him away from me, from this world? I found myself sobbing at Carysa’s feet, shaking from the shock and pain. I saw the world travel in circles, and then all went black. Chapter Three: The Dinner
When I woke up for the second time that day, I was again in my room, but Carysa was braiding my hair into intricate designs. What was the point of fixing my hair when my dear Heracleitus was dead? She washed my feet and arms with warm water and ground sea salt, massaging the muscles I had used to outrun my father. What was the point of cleansing myself when I would no longer see Heracleitus? Carysa wrapped golden bands around my arms, put jeweled emerald stones in my ears to match my eyes, and put jeweled bracelets on my ankles and shoulders. What was the point of looking wealthy when I could no longer pay to go visit Heracleitus? There was no point whatsoever. I was painted with ground flower petals, green around the eyelid, bronze around the cheeks, cherry red on my lips, though I had no want of it. There was no point to getting all dressed up if it wasn’t for Heracleitus’ benefit. I wanted him, not some “unexpected royal guest” from who knows where. Now I would never look into his mahogany eyes, stroke his toned and tanned skin, feel the heat of his lips on mine, whispering in unison. I would never feel the aching of my heart when I would embrace him before he would return to Sisirus, and oh, how my heart would break. But it was for nothing, to hope and pray to Aphrodite, for nothing to see him leave and wish for more time. I felt the dull ache in my throat, and knew I could not cry, for the maids would be angry that they must repaint my face, and scold me for being so weak. They didn’t have to deal with this pain of loss, nor did they have to keep enduring the same disappointment again and again. I was rubbed in oil and then sent out to meet with Carysa and Clemistone, my bodyguard. They escorted me to the grand dining hall, where I was sure there would be a mourning meal for Heracleitus, but why I wasn’t wearing traditional mourning colors I would not know. All I knew was that Father and Clitus would be silently showing respect for dead Heracleitus, and his mother would be sobbing, as would his handmaidens. And I would be the only one with a reason to cry, a reason to feel so pained. Heracleitus was the one and only man I would ever want to marry and love, and that would never change. Clemistone opened the doors to the hall with unexpected haste. I was surprised that he wouldn’t want to shelter me from this grief. Usually, Clemistone would shield me from all kinds of misery, even to the point of facing death. Why would he not save me the pain of this situation? The whole day had been unclear as to what my father’s intentions were, but Clemistone’s fastness proved to me that Heracleitus was indeed not dead, and I had been misreading Father’s intentions. As I thought this, I walked through the doors and saw that our best dining plates had been brought out. The middle of the extremely long table was piled high with grilled swine surrounded by steamed vegetables, roasted beef with lamb curry on the side, lobster with scallops and shrimp, our best corn cakes and Cook’s famous honey cakes. All this could not be for a funeral or mourning, and my heart soared to dangerous heights, and I found myself feeling light-headed. Carysa noticed out of the corner of her eye that I was not in this world at the moment, and grasped my hand tightly. She gently dragged me to the chair that I had sat in few times, as it was the chair that usually graced women to be married. The only times before that I had been in the chair was when I was eight, to be married to Heracleitus, and when I was twelve, to be married to Theophilus. This brought once again suspicions to Father’s banquet. I looked around the humongous dining hall to perchance notice a face unknown, but was again disappointed. There had to be a reason that I was in the chair of Marriage, and it was not for someone I knew. I glanced down at my hands, and, to my surprise, found them glistening in sweat. I looked to my arms on the chair, and then, for the first time that night, saw the chair I was in. It was draped in silken cloth of Saffron yellow, the traditional color of brides to wear at a wedding. This puzzled me, as Father had never forced me into a relationship before. How was this man that I was supposed to be married to any different? My chain of thoughts was broken by a flute abruptly stopping and the man that announces the arrival of an important person blew his horn once to symbolize the arrival of someone that was very possibly, the man I could be forced to marry. The long bronze doors opened, and a procession of nobles and servants marched in, singing along to a tune that I did not recognize. The men sang in what was most definitely Miratophian, the language of our enemy. What in Zeus’ name was Father doing inviting our enemy to dinner at our palace. It was not out of character for Miratophians to give their life to further their King’s ambitions. What seemed to be a man in his early age was being carried around on a throne made of gold and priceless jewels, so clustered with emeralds and bronze that I noticed it was made to have a likeness of my skin tone and eyes. The emeralds were the exact same color as my eyes, and they matched the emeralds that were clustered in my bracelets and pierced in my ears. The bronze was the same color as my skin, not very dark as my father was, but the half metallic color that was undoubtedly my mother’s skin color copied onto mine. However, the throne was not what caught my attention the most. The man in the chair was obviously much older than I, at least fifteen years more than my fourteen. He had black hair as black as the eyes of my father, but they were stained with the blood of my people, and I would never forget that. How Father could allow this beast into our beloved palace was a mystery to me. If he meant for me to marry this sorry excuse for a man, then I would have no choice but to retreat to Heracleitus. He would understand, even shield me from this terrible curse. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a horn. The guard at the gate, dressed in our colors of purple and silver, stroked the hilt of his sword, as if to ready himself should there be an attack. Father stood up from his chair, and he cleared his throat to silence the room. "Members of the Royal Family and Court, I present to you the Crown Prince of Miratophy, Prince Clopas. Prince Clopas, allow me to introduce to you, my daughter and your new fiance, Alysa, princess of Menala!"
So, ya, it's a start. I hope you guys like it. My best friend says it amazing but.....
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Post by ilovestark on Jul 31, 2009 13:24:44 GMT -5
Okay, I added to chapter one, hopefully appeasing Amante dei Libri. ;D I hope you like it! ;D
Chapter One: The Chase I am in a wasteland, surrounded by ashes of cottages, bones of horses, and remnants of bronze weaponry. I start walking towards the largest ash pile of all, north of the scattered remains of a village. The closer I get to the pile, I notice something rather odd surrounding the pile. It looks to be a large wall made of mud bricks and, towards the middle, melted and twisted, is a bronze gate with intricate designs. The gate strikes something in my memory, but I have no time to investigate the symbols more, for I hear footsteps close behind me. I whirl around to face my opponent, but the second I turn around, dust flies up into the air, and then settles on the ground. Who is toying with my mind? I hear footsteps again, only closer to my back. For some odd reason, the Gods tell me to stay where I am. Not two paces behind me, the footsteps stop. I close my eyes and wait to be killed. The Miratophians must have seen me alone and taken advantage of it. I pray to Zeus that they not let this happen, for if I am killed, Father will undoubtedly declare war on Miratophy. Suddenly, I begin to feel the hairs on my neck stand up, and then I hear him. He is whispering in short phrases, not long enough for me to understand anything. Abruptly stopping, I feel him put his hand on my shoulder gently, as if to comfort a small child. As quickly as it took for me to register that there was a hand on my shoulder, another hand moves to the top of my head. His fingers drape over my face, and they cover some of my eyes. I cannot make out what color the skin is, but it is dark, almost as dark as my father's. The hand on my shoulder slowly finds my waist, where my belt of precious jewels rests. His arm turns and moves across my stomach, and his hand roughly grips my left hip. When his hand is comfortable, the hand on my head slips down to cover my nose and mouth. Now I am afraid, and I suck in a breath to scream. As soon as he feels me respond, the man cuts off my air. The Goddess of wisdom, Athena, tells me to pretend I am unconcious, and with the Gods' support, I become limp in his arms. Feeling me become unresponsive, he uncovers my mouth, allowing me to freely breathe, and then he gathers me in his arms. I can tell that my kidnapper is muscular, and he was holding me gently, and that makes me realize that my kidnapper is someone I know, perhaps that I love. He starts walking slowly, almost as if he is afraid to wake me from my fake slumber. I hear more footsteps approach him, except from a horse. The horse stops not five paces from my sleeping body and my gentle abductor, and I hear his feet hit the ground with a loud pop. This did not make my abductor happy, as I feel his muscles contract under my legs and shoulders. For the first time, the man speaks. "Daedelus, you fool! Cannot you see that the girl in my arms is asleep? You risk my whole mission to return her to our country because you have not the brains of an ass!" says he in the Miratophian tongue. "Prince Clopas, allow me to apologize for my foolishness. I did not assume that the girl would be able to wake, for I, by the Gods, thought she was alive no longer," responds Daedelus sheepishly. "You assume I would kill my own wife, Daedelus? You think that just because you have murdered all your three wives that I would do the same? Alysa was foolish, I must confess, running back to her home, but she is only a girl of fifteen years, and is therefore not able to stay away from home for long. I am just happily surprised that it took Alysa this long to flee Miratophy," says Clopas, chuckling softly. "All four of my wives have been thirteen years old when I took them from their families, and all of them soon forgot home when they discovered what pleasure I could bring them," says Daedelus with a dark smile. My mind spun while the two men were exchanging words. I cannot believe that this man thinks I am his wife. Father would never agree for me to marry a Miratophian. It is forbidden! They are our sworn enemies, and Miratophians think it is despicable to associate with a Menalin, let alone to marry them. I am disgusted with Daedelus, for he married girls not two years from me and he forced them to marry him and then he raped them. He probably likes the screams of a young girl. While I am processing this, Clopas speaks again. "Not all of us enjoy punishing young girls for their virginity, Daedelus," Clopas says with a touch of annoyance. "Oh, do not mock me, Prince Clopas, for the whole palace knows what you did to Alysa on the wedding night." "The whole palace does not know what occurred between the Princess and I that night. You have no idea whatsoever," says Clopas, almost spitting with rage. "Oh yes I do, Prince. You see, I happen to have very good connections with her handmaiden, Carysa. According to her, Alysa said that you forced her to go to a sleeper to learn how to make sex for you more pleasureable. You forced Princess Alysa to be a sex slave, Prince Clopas, and you mock me for punishing young girls for their virginity. You consumated the marriage on the wedding night, and then when it did not satisfy you, you told Alysa to consult a sleeper the next day and learn how sex must be done! You, my friend, are not who people think you are! Stop taking advantage of Alysa, my lord, I beg of you! She has powerful friends, and I believe that putting sleeping potions in her wine at dinner and then raping her will drive her to run away to them! She will learn of your crimes, I swear it! When she does, Prince Clopas, may the Gods help us all. Just think, my lord, about what you do. She may be a very dangerous enemy if provoked." Clopas laughs, and the sound of it sends shivers down my body. Thinking my sleeping body was cold, Clopas wraps his cloak around me. "You seriously believe that Princess Alysa will be a powerful enemy? Daedelus, this is nonsense! She is nothing but a girl, Daedelus, and she will not run away. Her home is destroyed, and she knows I will do the same to her friends if I am provoked. Daedelus, my friend, I think the only thing I have to worry about with the Princess is whether or not she will someday be worth leaving awake in bed," says Clopas, laughing so hard that his whole body shakes. "I have consulted an oracle on the matter, my lord. She says to stop committing crimes against the Princess. The Princess will has gifts from the Gods that she hasn't even realized yet. Clopas, she will be like a Goddess on Earth!" "Let us hope that the gifts from the Gods allow her to be a better wife. And as for being a 'Goddess on Earth', it has always been said that when a Goddess gives herself to a man, he is always satisfied when it's over." "You disgust me, Prince Clopas! All you care for is copulation, and that is what will drive Princess Alysa to discover her Gods-given powers. Heed my words, Clopas, soon she will destroy you!" Daedelus says. I am so disgusted with the conversation that I am hearing, that I make a retching noise so loud that Clopas and and Daedelus both hear it. I feel Clopas' muscles contract again, and he makes a sound of utter rage. "Daedelus, you fool, let us return to Miratophy. We may consult this oracle together! She is waking sooner than I expected, and we must return her to the palace so it seems that what has happened is just a dream. Daedelus, I must have the sleeping powder!" Daedelus hesitated, as if he did not want to subject me to more pain, but he handed over a vial of blue sand. Clopas pulled the stopper off of the lid, and then he opened my mouth so that the pathway to my stomach would be clear. I felt a grain enter my mouth that tasted of peaches and pomegranate, but as soon as I swallowed, everything started going fuzzy. I didn't want to believe I had heard this conversation. I couldn't have! Clopas always seemed to be a good husband. He never forced me into anything! This must be a dream, it must be! I wouldn't let myself believe that I allowed this to happen to my home! I woke to being shaken by soft hands. I opened my eyes to my bedroom in my palace by the Copian Sea. I do not believe I had been so relieved in my life that the preceeding thoughts were part of a sinister nightmare. I looked at the hand that had shaken me awake, and recognized my handmaiden Carysa, dark eyes wide with concern. Her long black hair was braided in the traditional maid style, dropping down to her waist. "Carysa! You do not know how happy I am to see you and Canaria. My friend, I had the most horrible dream! The Gods were not kind to me last night, sister." "My lady, the whole corridor has knowledge of your dream. You have been screaming the words 'it isn't my fault' for the past two hours! What happened, my lady?" "Carysa, I cannot tell you what occurred in my dream, for I have forgotten, but it was horrible. I do not find it odd that I was talking in my sleep." "Screaming, you mean! Princess Alysa, I was afraid for your life. I have never been more concerned for your well-being, my lady. Now that this is over, your father wishes to see you. I will call in your maids to dress you and fix your hair. It is looking like a beehive today, my lady," Carysa said with a smile. Over an hour later, I was dismissed from my maids as being suitable for a conference with my father. Why I must be dressed in the finest robes and jewelry, painted with the finest make-up, and tortured with the finest hair style to see my father I will never have knowledge of. I walked down the corridor to my Father's wing of the castle. As to be expected in the morning, he was writing in his study to the Commander of our army. We were currently sending troops to Menalaus and Agamemnon, who were trying to destroy Troy, where Menalaus's bride, Helen, had escaped to. I believed the war was being fought over a foolish situation, but Father did not listen to me, and the war has been for seven years. The war with Troy was how my brother was killed, and I will never forgive Father for joining it. "Alysa! What a joy it is to see you, child! You bring happiness to my heart, seeing you as beautiful as you are. You will make a fine wife someday, daughter," Father said, embracing me. "Father, what you do not understand is that I will marry no one but Heracleitus. How many times must young boys return home to their countries disappointed that they could not woo me?" "Well, Alysa, that will change. Speaking of which, I have something to tell you, my child." Before Father could get a word out of his mouth, I was running. I threw off my sandals to become faster, and soon the palace was gone. “Alysa!” my father yelled, exasperated, as anyone would be chasing after me. Father looked as if he had never ran a day in his life. But I knew it was not so. In his younger days, Father was the best runner the Menalins ever had. But going to war and witnessing his most trusted companion being slaughtered right in front of his eyes had left its mark and, more particularly, drained him of the fire that kept him hopeful until the very end. Now, he just looked like any king would, save for the fact that servants should be chasing me and not him. Foolish King of Menala! He and I both knew that he lost his drive to run many years ago, and even if he still possessed it, he could not outrun me now. My sheltered world of Canaria blew past me as if I was in a chariot being pulled by five horses. I found myself laughing hysterically as if this was somehow amusing. It only took another scream of “Alysa!” to pull me from my fantasy and bring me back to reality. My father was chasing me. The only time he ever will chase me is if he has bad news. The last time he chased me was when Lysimachus was killed in battle, but Father said that my brother had died with honor. Who cares about honor? My father, certainly, but honor will not bring my oldest brother back to me, and it would not make me forget the countless days I spent locked in Lysimachus’ room, holding his armor, his clothes, inhaling the smell of my brother, my favorite brother. Theophilus and Hyacinthus were still alive, of course, but I hated them with a hate that even the earth-shaker Poseidon would find unbearable. Through with the memory, I again refocus on Lucosia Garden, my favorite afternoon oasis. It was named after my mother, Lucosianica, the most noble Menalin queen there ever was. She died after giving birth to Theophilus and Hyacinthus some eight years ago, but the twins still call Marianteus their mother. How appalling! How could anyone so foolish and naïve be even thought to be their mother. The thought repulsed me so much that I wanted to throw up my midday meal, but I had no intentions of slowing down. Father will either have to catch up or he’ll have to kill me.
Chapter Two: The News
As soon as I reached the Copian Sea, I snuck a look over my shoulder and was satisfied to see Father huffing and puffing against a tree a mile away. I smiled at the thought at how long it will take him to again start running after me. A glass of wine, perhaps, and maybe he will call his chariot to chase me instead. I smiled even wider at the thought of that challenge. He will have to bring many horses to catch me, and if he doesn’t it will take time to get more. By then, I will be long gone. Maybe I could go to Heracleitus in Sisirus. He would take me in as if I was his daughter. But, yet again, we were old lovers. Back about seven years ago, when I was about eight, Father’s friend from Sisirus, Clitus, came to visit Canaria. I was overjoyed, but Father told me that Clitus had a son two years older than me. I was immediately upset because boys brought nothing but trouble and insults, but Father explained to me that Heracleitus was different. According to Father, his mother had taught him the art of charm. I was still unmoved, but Father said to wait and see how attracted I would become to Heracleitus. I asked him why he would even bother bringing the prince of Sisirus to the palace. Didn’t he have better things to do? Father wouldn’t say any more on the subject, but Lysamicus later explained to me that Father had hopes that Heracleitus and I would find an attraction for one another, and that he and I would marry one day. Too little to understand the importance of an arranged marriage, I was disgusted by that and vowed to never love a man. As soon as Heracleitus set foot in our summer palace at Rhetorionia, I found him very attractive for a young man, and I fell in love with him. The charm didn’t have to work for me, for I was already bound to this one. My heart exploded every time he talked to me or held my hand. His warm skin against mine felt like they were meant for each other. One thing led to another, and we were a couple. Heracleitus impressively persuaded Clitus to let him stay at the palace for a few more months, saying, “Alysa would take a little bit more convincing”. What Clitus didn’t know is that I would unthinkingly do anything for Heracleitus, and he would for me. Father was bursting with happiness, as his plan worked to his advantage. Heracleitus and I loved each other, and that made two allied kingdoms. However, I soon found out that instead of Heracleitus and I being wedded, Heracleitus’ sister and Lyamicus were arranged to be married. My heart literally died that day, as I knew that Father would use me to ally another kingdom, except this time I doubt I would love anyone like I loved Heracleitus. I sighed as I remembered that day, shedding a small tear in the process. I will never forget Heracleitus, and I will never let Father erase the memories I have of him, as much as he tries. Every year around the day of my birthday a prince, soon to be crowned, would arrive at our beach palace near the Copian Sea unexpectedly. Is it too hard to guess that all the young princes were in search of a young and royal bride? Every time that they came, Father would arrange certain meetings between the princes and I: a walk along the sea, walking to the temple together, attending a chariot race... They were all designed for the princes to have a chance to win my hand, but I was as stubborn as Father. I would not give in to his trickery, but I was still watching, attempting to find a man nearly as charming as Heracleitus. My fourteenth birthday is tomorrow, and I suspect that the bad news that Father brings me is that of another “unexpected royal guest”. I was sure that, because I am growing in age and maturity, I will be expecting more suitors and more of Father’s pathetic attempts to create an alliance that will have Miratophy, our sworn enemy, shaking in their sandals. When I returned from my distant memory, I was exhausted. I felt as if I had ran from Sisirus and back in less than a day, and decided that I was in need of a short sleep. Reassured that Father was long behind me, I closed my eyes and succumbed to sleep. When I woke up, I was not at the beach where I had been resting. I was in my room at our beach palace, wearing a brand-new robe as white as pearls. My handmaiden Carysa then entered the room, with eyes that expressed guilt. I was not angry with her, and never could be. We had grown up together, as her mother was my nurse and then, when she was old and grey, passed the responsibility to Carysa. Carysa was more loyal than a best friend, and she never did anything that had a slight possibility of harming me. I loved her as I would my own sister, if I had any. Carysa came in and quietly said with remorse, “My lady, if I had any idea of what they were subjecting you to, I would have stopped them immediately!” She dropped to her knees and started sobbing, but I couldn’t pay enough attention to comfort her. What were “they” subjecting me to? Was my father a part of it? I dropped to my knees with her and jerked her chin up. She avoided my eyes, as if it was her doing that I was dragged back here against my will. “What do you mean, Carysa?” I asked, “what are they subjecting me to?” “I was ordered not to tell you, my lady. I have strict orders from your father, King Menalinus, not to explain the situation to you, but I feel that you already know what is happening”, sobbed Carysa. My mind spun back in reverse, searching for a time when there had been a similar pattern as to the one now. The last time that Father chased me was when Lysimachus was killed in battle, but I had no more elder brothers that could be killed. Theophilus and Hyacinthus were no older than seven, surely not old enough to venture into battle with youths from Menala. So who was killed? The only person I could think of that was so important to chase me down and then drag me back to the palace would be Heracleitus! My heart broke in two as I thought this awful, terrifying thought. Heracleitus and I were meant to be together, I was sure of it. How could the Gods take him away from me, from this world? I found myself sobbing at Carysa’s feet, shaking from the shock and pain. I saw the world travel in circles, and then all went black. Chapter Three: The Dinner
When I woke up for the second time that day, I was again in my room, but Carysa was braiding my hair into intricate designs. What was the point of fixing my hair when my dear Heracleitus was dead? She washed my feet and arms with warm water and ground sea salt, massaging the muscles I had used to outrun my father. What was the point of cleansing myself when I would no longer see Heracleitus? Carysa wrapped golden bands around my arms, put jeweled emerald stones in my ears to match my eyes, and put jeweled bracelets on my ankles and shoulders. What was the point of looking wealthy when I could no longer pay to go visit Heracleitus? There was no point whatsoever. I was painted with ground flower petals, green around the eyelid, bronze around the cheeks, cherry red on my lips, though I had no want of it. There was no point to getting all dressed up if it wasn’t for Heracleitus’ benefit. I wanted him, not some “unexpected royal guest” from who knows where. Now I would never look into his mahogany eyes, stroke his toned and tanned skin, feel the heat of his lips on mine, whispering in unison. I would never feel the aching of my heart when I would embrace him before he would return to Sisirus, and oh, how my heart would break. But it was for nothing, to hope and pray to Aphrodite, for nothing to see him leave and wish for more time. I felt the dull ache in my throat, and knew I could not cry, for the maids would be angry that they must repaint my face, and scold me for being so weak. They didn’t have to deal with this pain of loss, nor did they have to keep enduring the same disappointment again and again. I was rubbed in oil and then sent out to meet with Carysa and Clemistone, my bodyguard. They escorted me to the grand dining hall, where I was sure there would be a mourning meal for Heracleitus, but why I wasn’t wearing traditional mourning colors I would not know. All I knew was that Father and Clitus would be silently showing respect for dead Heracleitus, and his mother would be sobbing, as would his handmaidens. And I would be the only one with a reason to cry, a reason to feel so pained. Heracleitus was the one and only man I would ever want to marry and love, and that would never change. Clemistone opened the doors to the hall with unexpected haste. I was surprised that he wouldn’t want to shelter me from this grief. Usually, Clemistone would shield me from all kinds of misery, even to the point of facing death. Why would he not save me the pain of this situation? The whole day had been unclear as to what my father’s intentions were, but Clemistone’s fastness proved to me that Heracleitus was indeed not dead, and I had been misreading Father’s intentions. As I thought this, I walked through the doors and saw that our best dining plates had been brought out. The middle of the extremely long table was piled high with grilled swine surrounded by steamed vegetables, roasted beef with lamb curry on the side, lobster with scallops and shrimp, our best corn cakes and Cook’s famous honey cakes. All this could not be for a funeral or mourning, and my heart soared to dangerous heights, and I found myself feeling light-headed. Carysa noticed out of the corner of her eye that I was not in this world at the moment, and grasped my hand tightly. She gently dragged me to the chair that I had sat in few times, as it was the chair that usually graced women to be married. The only times before that I had been in the chair was when I was eight, to be married to Heracleitus, and when I was twelve, to be married to Theophilus. This brought once again suspicions to Father’s banquet. I looked around the humongous dining hall to perchance notice a face unknown, but was again disappointed. There had to be a reason that I was in the chair of Marriage, and it was not for someone I knew. I glanced down at my hands, and, to my surprise, found them glistening in sweat. I looked to my arms on the chair, and then, for the first time that night, saw the chair I was in. It was draped in silken cloth of Saffron yellow, the traditional color of brides to wear at a wedding. This puzzled me, as Father had never forced me into a relationship before. How was this man that I was supposed to be married to any different? My chain of thoughts was broken by a flute abruptly stopping and the man that announces the arrival of an important person blew his horn once to symbolize the arrival of someone that was very possibly, the man I could be forced to marry. The long bronze doors opened, and a procession of nobles and servants marched in, singing along to a tune that I did not recognize. The men sang in what was most definitely Miratophian, the language of our enemy. What in Zeus’ name was Father doing inviting our enemy to dinner at our palace. It was not out of character for Miratophians to give their life to further their King’s ambitions. What seemed to be a man in his early age was being carried around on a throne made of gold and priceless jewels, so clustered with emeralds and bronze that I noticed it was made to have a likeness of my skin tone and eyes. The emeralds were the exact same color as my eyes, and they matched the emeralds that were clustered in my bracelets and pierced in my ears. The bronze was the same color as my skin, not very dark as my father was, but the half metallic color that was undoubtedly my mother’s skin color copied onto mine. However, the throne was not what caught my attention the most. The man in the chair was obviously much older than I, at least fifteen years more than my fourteen. He had black hair as black as the eyes of my father, but they were stained with the blood of my people, and I would never forget that. How Father could allow this beast into our beloved palace was a mystery to me. If he meant for me to marry this sorry excuse for a man, then I would have no choice but to retreat to Heracleitus. He would understand, even shield me from this terrible curse. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a horn. The guard at the gate, dressed in our colors of purple and silver, stroked the hilt of his sword, as if to ready himself should there be an attack. Father stood up from his chair, and he cleared his throat to silence the room. "Members of the Royal Family and Court, I present to you the Crown Prince of Miratophy, Prince Clopas. Prince Clopas, allow me to introduce to you, my daughter and your new fiance, Alysa, princess of Menala!"
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