It is cold in my room. All other creatures and people are asleep. All around me is utter darkness. Yet I can remember a time then all was light and beauty. When laughter had a name. So, as I lay here in my bed, awaiting the dawn, let me tell you a story.
When I was young and strong and full of life, I lived with my mother and father on our estates. They were lovely days. Our home was a beautiful manor house surrounded by blooming gardens in summer, and silver worlds in winter.
The gardens were filled with all sorts of flower, shrubs, herbs, trees and fountains. Winding gravel paths ran though it all. My favorite place was a great junipur tree with a swing atached to a protruding branch. When you swung, you would sore out over a small clear pool and would see the world upsidedown. On hot summer days, I would swim in that pool while Nellie-my maid and best friend- would stand off to the side declaring, 'It was un ladylike for a girl of my rank to swim. And we both new that my mother agreed with that.
But Nellie never told on me. She would always find a way to smuggle me inside without anyone noticing my wet locks. She was like that. Never tellling a sould what words of confidence were passed between us. Nellie was older then me by a year. I used to know how many months and days, but I'm getting to old to remember such things. She and I were oposites in looks. She had dark brown hair that hung just benieth her shoulders. Mine was a dull blonde that hung lower then my waist. She had eyes to match her hair, they were seldom dull. She was always full of life. While mine were a hazel. Changing often with whatever I wore. Nellies smile made you and everyone else smile. It was like an illness, as soon as you walked into a room with her in it, no matter how grumpy you were, you smiled. You might walk out a become mad agian, but while in sight of her, within the sound of her voice, you smiled. It just happened that way. I often wonder why she had to die, why not me instead? In one thing we were alike. We were both tall, and thin as willow wands. But she was tall and graceful, while I was tall and clumsy. Or at least appeared clumsy when next to her. I never gruded her that. You could never hold anything against her.
Surounding the gardens was a high stone wall. Wide as a chariot and smooth as tall as a large tree made of marble. The gates were thick and made of black wood, carved with illistrations of some long gone age. These were thrown open every dawn and closed ever sunset with a screach. During the day, Merchants came to see my mother Dutches Loraine of Penery, and trade with her. She could always get a good deal. She had laughing pine-green eyes, hair as golden as the first dawn in summer and a voice that seemed to sing whenever sound came forth.
Farmers and locals came to see my father, Duke of Penery and pay rent. Also, importaint looking men came. I wouldn't call all of them friends. For many times when on left, I would see him standing at the gate, watching the diminishing figure. It was frightening to see him such. His shoulder quivering, his steel gray eyes flashing and his mouth set in a tight line. He had very pronounced eye brows, and they would be knit together at the middle in a deep frown, his mind miles from where he stood. After a few minutes, he would catch sight of me a sweep me up into his arms, holding me close as he spun me around. Our hair, black and blonde getting mixed up in a wirlwind of air. Holding me close, he would whisper, 'I do it for you' I never new what he ment until years later. Once he had set me down, I would talk to him about nothing importaint. So and so had a birthday, there was a new little of puppies and so on. I learned from an early age to stay away from the subjects of loyalty to the king, or anything about things from out side our borders in the land of Incipio.
~~~
Four years later, when I was eighteen, my mother set about the task of finding me a husband. But before anything could be set in stone war broke out between Aperio noble men,and the ruler of Incipio, King Johnathyn V. His great grandfather, King Johnathyn II had conquered us long before my father was born. I had heard stories of this great war long ago. And of the famous last stand of our king, King Peter I. It was there that he died. His picture hung over the great chair in my father office. It was a lovely picture of him. He was standing by a great tree, its bark black like out gates, and its leaves a vivid green. It was in a field, and there were flowers all around his feet. Not the nice kind found in a glass house, but real flowers, found out in the hills, and in fields. His eyes were laughing, and his mouth seemed to smile at me, though whenever I looked twice, it was as grim as ever.
One night, we were all sitting down to feast. I had a new dress of emerald green with golden leaves sown delicatly on the filmy edge. My father was hosting this feast for his friends, but I saw some that I recognized as men he disliked very much. I asumed that they had been invited out of politeness. That night, my mother was beautiful. No, she was stunning. As she walked in the great double gold doors at the west side, which led in from the garden, the sunset lit up her hair, her face. Everything about her glowed. Her eyes sparked, and her maroon dress with white pearls shone like it was on fie. It stuck me how much like a queen she looked. Well, time wore on. Men consumed more and more wine. Though my father rarely drank wine, he always served it in profusion. Suddenly one man stood up, lifting his glass, he looked at my father and shouted,
'Long live our King Peter!'
When I was young and strong and full of life, I lived with my mother and father on our estates. They were lovely days. Our home was a beautiful manor house surrounded by blooming gardens in summer, and silver worlds in winter.
The gardens were filled with all sorts of flower, shrubs, herbs, trees and fountains. Winding gravel paths ran though it all. My favorite place was a great junipur tree with a swing atached to a protruding branch. When you swung, you would sore out over a small clear pool and would see the world upsidedown. On hot summer days, I would swim in that pool while Nellie-my maid and best friend- would stand off to the side declaring, 'It was un ladylike for a girl of my rank to swim. And we both new that my mother agreed with that.
But Nellie never told on me. She would always find a way to smuggle me inside without anyone noticing my wet locks. She was like that. Never tellling a sould what words of confidence were passed between us. Nellie was older then me by a year. I used to know how many months and days, but I'm getting to old to remember such things. She and I were oposites in looks. She had dark brown hair that hung just benieth her shoulders. Mine was a dull blonde that hung lower then my waist. She had eyes to match her hair, they were seldom dull. She was always full of life. While mine were a hazel. Changing often with whatever I wore. Nellies smile made you and everyone else smile. It was like an illness, as soon as you walked into a room with her in it, no matter how grumpy you were, you smiled. You might walk out a become mad agian, but while in sight of her, within the sound of her voice, you smiled. It just happened that way. I often wonder why she had to die, why not me instead? In one thing we were alike. We were both tall, and thin as willow wands. But she was tall and graceful, while I was tall and clumsy. Or at least appeared clumsy when next to her. I never gruded her that. You could never hold anything against her.
Surounding the gardens was a high stone wall. Wide as a chariot and smooth as tall as a large tree made of marble. The gates were thick and made of black wood, carved with illistrations of some long gone age. These were thrown open every dawn and closed ever sunset with a screach. During the day, Merchants came to see my mother Dutches Loraine of Penery, and trade with her. She could always get a good deal. She had laughing pine-green eyes, hair as golden as the first dawn in summer and a voice that seemed to sing whenever sound came forth.
Farmers and locals came to see my father, Duke of Penery and pay rent. Also, importaint looking men came. I wouldn't call all of them friends. For many times when on left, I would see him standing at the gate, watching the diminishing figure. It was frightening to see him such. His shoulder quivering, his steel gray eyes flashing and his mouth set in a tight line. He had very pronounced eye brows, and they would be knit together at the middle in a deep frown, his mind miles from where he stood. After a few minutes, he would catch sight of me a sweep me up into his arms, holding me close as he spun me around. Our hair, black and blonde getting mixed up in a wirlwind of air. Holding me close, he would whisper, 'I do it for you' I never new what he ment until years later. Once he had set me down, I would talk to him about nothing importaint. So and so had a birthday, there was a new little of puppies and so on. I learned from an early age to stay away from the subjects of loyalty to the king, or anything about things from out side our borders in the land of Incipio.
~~~
Four years later, when I was eighteen, my mother set about the task of finding me a husband. But before anything could be set in stone war broke out between Aperio noble men,and the ruler of Incipio, King Johnathyn V. His great grandfather, King Johnathyn II had conquered us long before my father was born. I had heard stories of this great war long ago. And of the famous last stand of our king, King Peter I. It was there that he died. His picture hung over the great chair in my father office. It was a lovely picture of him. He was standing by a great tree, its bark black like out gates, and its leaves a vivid green. It was in a field, and there were flowers all around his feet. Not the nice kind found in a glass house, but real flowers, found out in the hills, and in fields. His eyes were laughing, and his mouth seemed to smile at me, though whenever I looked twice, it was as grim as ever.
One night, we were all sitting down to feast. I had a new dress of emerald green with golden leaves sown delicatly on the filmy edge. My father was hosting this feast for his friends, but I saw some that I recognized as men he disliked very much. I asumed that they had been invited out of politeness. That night, my mother was beautiful. No, she was stunning. As she walked in the great double gold doors at the west side, which led in from the garden, the sunset lit up her hair, her face. Everything about her glowed. Her eyes sparked, and her maroon dress with white pearls shone like it was on fie. It stuck me how much like a queen she looked. Well, time wore on. Men consumed more and more wine. Though my father rarely drank wine, he always served it in profusion. Suddenly one man stood up, lifting his glass, he looked at my father and shouted,
'Long live our King Peter!'
