Disclaimer: Clearly this is not mine. Why would you even think so? I merely own the creations of my own mind and am borrowing th previously created characters.
Okay, so this is my first piece. Please be kind. I know I am not the best writer on the planet and have been paying for it all my life. Oh, and be kind and leave CONSTRUCTIVE criticism in a review.
It was always that damn floorboard. I'd made this journey many times, but still managed to step on it occasionally. I carefully weighed my options: if I stayed where I was, there was no doubt that she would eventually catch me, but if I attempted to flee then the consequence's severity was sure to double. Choosing Scenario A, I reluctantly waited awaited the inevitable. No more than five minutes later I could hear muffled footsteps that were soon followed by a candle glowing brightly, unaware of the despair it brought. Much sooner than I would have preferred I could make out frizzy grey hair and a pudgy form. I sighed and emerged from the small refuge the shadows gave me.
"You can never just let one noise go, can you?"
"And what? Explain to Lady why I let the four of you be murdered in your beds? I should think not," the voice of Mandy the cook sounded out.
"I highly doubt someone is coming to 'murder us in our beds,'" I remarked dryly, still somewhat soured by the fact that I had, once again, been caught.
"You'd best be on your way, sweet. I'm sure that you are just dying to wake her up in your most loving way," she said, the candle glinting in her eyes.
"You're terrible, my dear Mandy, to assume that I would ever do something as terrible as that of which you speak."
"I know, mine is a most is a most deceitful mind. Now run along, and do be quiet," she said in a slight condescending tone.
"Yes, because I enjoy being caught in the dead of night," I replied, adding a withering stare for good measure. The matronly lady merely rolled her eyes and went on her way as I returned to my trek. Within a minute I stood before a familiar door, my destination. With a steady hand, I quietly opened the door and slipped in. Once inside I looked at the accustomed surroundings. A comfortably and tastefully decorated room in varying hues of blues and floras lay before my eyes. A large bed lay on the left with a simple writing desk and chair opposite it. Two doors, one left carelessly ajar, leading to a small balcony stood facing my current position in front of the entrance. I crossed the room to close the offending door and successfully stopped the flow of slightly cool air from blowing in. I turned to finish my inspection of the room. I was now faced with the wall I formerly stood against. Upon it hung a single painting to the side of the desk while a comfortable chair occupied the reverse corner. I crept soundlessly toward the aforementioned bed. Seeing a petite figure resting upon it, I smiled maliciously. Without a second's hesitation, I nimbly sprang upon the person and was rewarded with an agonized groan. Smiling, I pulled myself of her and patiently waited for her to collect herself.
I never tired of waking my sister in such a fashion. Almost ritualistically I would pay her visits involving the boisterous manner of waking we had grown accustomed to. Being children of a king had made such familiarity infrequent, despite our parents' valiant efforts. When an opportunity arose for us to practice a tradition, we grabbed it and held on to it with our entire beings. Soon a disheveled head poked itself out from the mess of tangled covers that coated the bed.
"I truly despise your creativeness," she said, glaring at me.
"Whatever do you mean, love?" I asked in a sickeningly sweet tone I knew disgusted her.
"Can't you wake me in a normal fashion?"
"But where's the fun in that?" I asked with a put.
"Ah, so we finally find the meaning of existence, catering to your needs of entertainment," she responded dryly.
I love my sister dearly. Born a mere three minutes after me, I have never truly known a time without her presence. Granted, we've had our spells of separation; there was the time I was on border patrol and...well...I can't seem to recall another time of extensive detachment. Our relationship was an unexplainable one of trust and understanding. I trusted her to make a fool of me and she understood she was to do it as often as possible. Hah! And they say I can't make a joke.
"Just think, after tonight I won't be able to practice my creativeness on you for a whole year. How absolutely tragic." Taking things in jest was how Daphne dealt with her problems. She always preferred a joke than a drawn out conversation on the metaphysical. I can only remember three times when she ever truly acknowledge the fact that pain truly existed; each time had left her battered, broken, and in need of a conversation involving my mother and I; rather, a conversation with my mother while I wistfully looked on, dreaming that I, too, could one day be as knowledgeable as they.
"Just think, a whole year free from the deprecation of being your sister. Oh rapture," she said with a melancholy smile adorning her fine features. She was the female version of our father, with tawny curls framing her face just past her shoulders. It was often said that our father was a softened version of his own. Daphne continued this tradition with a feminine twist. Nothing was out of place on her. A perfect mix of mother and father; while resemblance bellowed father, her personality and wit was shaped after Mother's own. She was able to glide through life with many friends and admirers. I often found myself comparing her admirable traits to my own: my lackluster chestnut locks spread in all directions, the very antithesis of her bouncing curls; my flustered manners was a laughable contradiction to her easiness. I was lacking what completed her. I would continue to think of her in this childish, naive way for years to come.
We sat quietly for a few moments, contemplating what we to come. Perhaps if we said nothing and did not make a move, then daylight would never come.
"I suppose we must persevere," she finally said, shattering the illusion.
"It's hard to believe that it's finally come. A whole year!" I said with disbelief. "I don't think I'll survive," I confessed.
"I know you won't." I looked at her. She looked lost in thought. I decided to not question her meaning. She often said such cryptic messages.
~ * ~
I awoke in the morning to find that my sister had already abandoned me. I quickly got up and went to my room to change in order to seek out the members of my family.
As I walked, I thought of the previous night. Many of my former fears had been calmed, leaving me with a resignation to follow my path with dignity and wisdom.
While changing, I thought of my family itself:
My elder sister Eleanor, named in the fashion my mother had been, had married almost two years ago when she was seventeen and I fifteen. With the promise of a new family, I never questioned her happiness in that far off kingdom with her husband. I did, however, curse her for putting the crown on my head.
My younger brother, James, had recently turned fifteen and was content to study and learn the rest of his life. I never could quite understand him.
My youngest sibling, Lela (an old joke between my parents that they refused to share), was a mere six years old now. I cannot say much about her other that the fact that her days were spent frolicking through fields of flowers and the menagerie.
My father, King Charmont, Char to friends, was my unattainable goal. No matter how much I strived, I could never resemble his strength and honor. As a just ruler, he easily kept peace throughout Kyrria.
And finally, my mother, Queen Eleanor, Ella to most. She always exerted an aura of gentleness. Kind to all who deserved her kindness, she was an easily loved monarch.
In short, one could not wish for a better family.
~ * ~
I quickly made my way to the private dining room. Upon opening the door, I found my mother, Daphne, and James to be eating a light breakfast. I took my seat to the left of my mother and also began to eat. Small conversation followed. A visible tension hung in the room; Mother was clearly upset with the prospect of her eldest son leaving, James immersed in a book, and Daphne exuding an air of neutrality. After a short time, Mandy entered the room, bearing Tonic and causing Daphne to moan.
"Be a big girl Daphne. We've seen you take it before, so I'm sure you are still capable to," Mandy said, doling put the offending substance. Not even James, as distinguished as he was, could take the stuff without a small grimace.
"I have and idea," Daphne announced after Mandy had taken her leave. "What if we all pretend that I drank the stuff while I actually feed it to Chester." Chester was Lela's small, excitable dog.
"No, wait, I have an even better idea," my mother said while smiling. "We can pretend you fed it to Chester while you actually drink it! Now there's an idea!" Daphne gave a helpless, pleading look, which Mother returned in full force. With an audible sigh, Daphne drank the Tonic while dramatically plugging her nose. Almost instantaneously she fell out of her chair and began to convulse and gag on the floor. James rolled his eyes while Mother and I laughed appreciatively.
Suddenly, the door opened, revealing Father. He looked from Mother and I to Daphne, who remained on the floor, jittering every few seconds with her tongue hanging out.
"Good lord, has she gone and died on us again?" he asked us as he walked to his chair. It was often whispered that Daphne was his favorite child, taking after Mother the way she did. Once she had recovered from her "fit" and retaken her seat James looked up to address her.
"Don't you think you're getting a bit old for this?"
"Are you questioning my maturity level, o small one?"
"I abhor that name, and you know it."
"Of course I know it, where would the fun be if you enjoyed my name calling?"
"Will you ever learn?"
"Give me a year or two. By then I should have come around to the idea of leading a productive and morally correct life." Conversation continued for the rest of breakfast. I devoted this time to my thoughts, centering on the knowledge that I would not see these people, the people I loved the most, for an entire year. There was only one question that passed through my head.
Would I survive the separation?
~ * ~
The whole of the family, including Mandy, had gathered to see my father and I off. My little sister now joined us, having just awakened, and still seemed to be dazed. Our farewells were ridden with sorrow and each member had their own piece of comfort or advice to share with me.
My mother told me to mind my manners and to always be proud of myself, saying I would constantly occupy her thoughts. Mandy reminded me to take my Tonic and care of myself, claiming she would know if I hadn't. James put me under a strict promise to watch everything I could and take careful notes so he could better understand Ayorthian Government. Lela, who did not fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, told me she would see later that day. After many explanations and tears (on her part of course), she understood and asked me write often. The last farewell was between Daphne and myself. We were given privacy for this moment while the rest of the family feigned interest in the loading of the trunks.
You're crazy, you know," she stated simply.
"Pardon?"
"You can't expect us to remain the same until your return. It's laughable to believe we will not change. It's idiotic to believe that you will not change."
I looked at her with disbelief. I had not mentioned my hope that, once I came back, things would simply return to their regular schedule.
"You needn't give me that look. You aren't that hard to read. Especially for me. But you must understand me, dearest. People have tendency to change. Just because you're not there to see them doesn't mean they don't exist. By keeping us the exact same as we are now, you are cheating us from experiencing life. But it applies to yourself, too. I would feel so hurt to know that you left me fr a year and not gained anything from it. So I want you to promise me something. Promise me that you will make an attempt to live despite your new surroundings and lack of familiarity."
I thought about what she had just said. When I turned to look at her I noticed her eyes held a pleading and...desperate look.
"I'll do my best." She smiled more to herself than to me, but I still could not refrain form feeling gladness that I had accommodated her.
We turned to face the rest of our relatives. I hugged everyone one last time before taking mount and riding beside Father.
My journey had begun and I was determined to make Daphne proud.
I was determined to live.