The Dragonstomper .48
In which a lovely game allows our Princess to uncover one of the most valuable and priceless treasures in all of Albion.
~*Discovery*~
"Stop raining!" a small, childish voice cried out. "I order you to stop! Stop it!"
Growling in frustration, Princess Dove slapped her tiny hands against the cold windowsill. The rain continued to fall mercilessly, despite her demands. "Stop! Stop! STOP! Grrr!"
Hopping off of the sill and slumping dejectedly into a cozy chair, she cupped her head in her hands and retreated into deep thought. She gritted her teeth when light laughter echoed around the library. "It's not funny!" she cried out in despair, glaring quite evilly at her elder brother.
Logan never removed his eyes from his book, but he was smirking all the same. "Oh no, it's positively dreadful. Never seen anything like it. Rain. Honestly!" He attempted to sound at least a bit serious, but at the sight of his little sisters indignant face, he lifted his book to attempt hiding his wide smile.
"Ugh, can you tell it to stop raining?" she pleaded, turning up to him with hope glinting in her eyes.
"Sorry, little dove," he said, shrugging. "Even Dad can't control the weather, if you can believe that." Dove once again looked over to the window in despair, not seeming to heed his words properly. Her tongue poked out between her teeth as she concentrated, trying to make the rain vanish by sheer willpower. All she wanted to do was play outside!
Logan continued to read his book thoughtfully, till she finally gave up and slumped into the chair in utter dejection. "No fair!" she cried out. "Why does the rain get all the fun?" Big, fat tears threatening to spill over, she buried her face into her hands and began to wail obnoxiously loud.
"Well, the rain has to have some fun outside," he said, trying to speak over her dry-racking sobs without yelling. "Else we wouldn't have anything to drink." Dove shifted slightly and stared up at him with watery, blue eyes, looking far from convinced.
"But why did the rain have to come today?" she argued. Logan shrugged.
"If not today, then when?"
"Tomorrow!" she answered without hesitation. Releasing a far too dramatic sigh, Dove sniffled and wiped the tears off of her cheeks. She had the decency to look slightly ashamed by her outburst. "Sorry, brother…I just really wanted to play with Elliot outside today…we were going to play hide and seek…"
Logan pursed his lips in thought as he watched his sister try and collect herself. "Well, I can always play a quick game of hide 'n' seek." The sniffling sobs instantly ceased and her eyes brightened. Hopping to her feet she gazed hopefully up at her elder brother.
"Really? You promise?" When he said he was positive, Dove let out a chirpish giggle. "Alright! Count to one hundred! Anywhere is far ground 's long as it's inside! Ready?" He nodded in agreement and promptly closed his eyes.
"One…two…three…" Logan began counting airily. Without a moment's hesitation Dove shot out of the sweeping double-doors, various potential hiding places flashing through her mind. Of course, he would never suspect me hiding in someplace close. There! I should hide there! Throwing back a purple draping curtain she slinked inside and pressed herself closely to the wall, trying to contain her giggles at her wonderful cleverness.
As Logan reached ten she suddenly reconsidered her decision, as she noticed her dainty feet were sticking out underneath the drape. He would see me instantly! She ran to the other direction, coming upon the grand entrance staircase that led to the throne room. Perfect! He would just walk right past me! Hopping down the stairs (taking two steps at a time) she slithered her way into the dark corner of the right wing, grinning madly. Ha-ha!
But just as before, niggling doubt wormed its way back into her head. She bit her lip in thought. If he were to walk through from the garden, I would no doubt be spotted! So she jumped back onto her feet and ran through into the kitchen, suddenly spotting a basket of potatoes and taking a few seconds to dig her way into them, earning many odd glances from the servants nearby. But wait! What if he grows hungry and was to take a potato? Groaning in frustration, she hopped out of the basket (creating quite a mess) and ran back into the entrance hall, completely forgetting her brother's hatred for potatoes.
The panic of being caught by Logan quickly took effect on poor, little Dove as she fretted over a perfect hiding spot. When she attempted hiding in a broom cupboard, she distressed if he were to perhaps desire a broomstick for cleaning. When she crammed herself underneath a table, she wondered if Logan would perhaps look under this very table to grab a dropped pencil. On and on the cycle went, until so much time had passed that she was sure Logan had begun his search for her.
Feeling very out-of-breath, Dove took a few seconds for a break, leaning against the wall to regain her energy. A sudden squeak cut across the air when her body fell right through the wall, and she flumped! onto the floor. Heart hammering in fright, the feeling was very quickly replaced by elation. Aha! A secret passageway! What luck! Indeed, a door had opened at her weight to reveal a hidden staircase that seemed to lead upwards and beyond.
Exhilarated from childish delight at discovering a secret passage (an actually very common occurrence in the castle, really), Dove only spared a moment's hesitation before propping herself up and stepping inside and closing the door quietly behind her (first checking to see if she could get back out later, for Dove wasn't a foolish girl.)
The stairwell was grimy and obviously hasn't been used in years. When she took the smallest of breath, she had sucked in so much dust she was coughing for minutes. Covering her mouth with her sleeve, she began to walk up the stairs, lost in vague daydreams of an adventurer uncovering an ancient tomb.
The stairway abruptly ended, and Dove found a large, wooden trapdoor planted above her head. A few seconds of violent pushing later and she managed to thrust it open. To her astonishment the trapdoor opened up to what looked like an attic (of course she thought of an attic, as a castle has many other attics to speak of).
It was a very crowded attic, and it vaguely reminded her of an antique shop. A bunch of boxes were shuffled around carelessly into the corners of the room, covered up with sheets and dust that gave the room a ghostly effect. The door that she entered in appeared to be the only way in or out, making her wonder how secret this room could have been. Ha! Logan wouldn't ever be able to find me now!
Taking care to close the trapdoor she took her place between two adjacent storage boxes and hid between them, smiling madly. If Dove had founded this room on any other occasion she would have much rather been exploring the treasures of the room rather than hiding in it, for it really was a secret room holding very many interesting items. As it was, she only ever found one.
Minutes slowly ticked by and Dove was basking in the triumph of her genius and luck. Occasionally she would peak over the box and stare at the trapdoor, as if waiting for Logan to come up and congratulate her for her cleverness. Soon she found herself growing a bit bored. The dust was beginning to make her eyes water. Slowly, ever so slowly, an hour passed by and her sense of victory had long since diminished. The heat was suffocating. The sunlight pouring through the windows were growing weaker, and her stomach had begun to growl in pain.
I didn't really want him to not find me… she thought in dejection. Clearly her hiding spot was far too grand and, if she didn't come down on her own freewill, she would be hiding up there forever. Her stomach began to protest compellingly, telling her it must have been nearly supper time. When she moved to stand up, she groaned as her muscles were stiff and sore from sitting down for so long. Shame, it was such a grand hiding place…
When she reached full height, she gasped when suddenly something thumped against her head. In the next moment various boxes rained down from above, rising up a cloud of dust that instantly was sucked into her throat. Dove covered her face with her arms and coughed and screamed out in fright, thinking she would soon be crushed by the weight on the boxes.
A moment passed. Dust was still swirling angrily in the air, as if annoyed to have been disturbed. Dove timidly peaked out to the mess she had made, and felt so ashamed, for she had only knocked over only a few small packages. Blushing deeply at her jumpiness, she quickly reached over to pick them up and place them back into order, having no wish to raise attention of a person being in this room, and liking things neat due to her own nature.
When the moment came that only one item was left, she was surprised to see that the package was empty. From the way it was lying on the ground, she guessed it must've had snapped when it fell. Panicking that she might have broken an irreplaceable treasure, her eyes darted over to the object lying on the ground that hadn't been there when she first arrived.
The item was, in fact, a slightly rusted, buffered old gun that looked as if though it hadn't been held in centuries. Since Dove was generally fascinated with antiques, pistols, and odd things of the like she took it into her hands gently and overlooked it. Something about it, she noticed eagerly, caused her heart to start beating faster, and if she had been older she would have realized that a small trace of Heroic blood was stirring. At such a young age, she just blamed it on her excitement on uncovering such an obvious antique.
"It's rusted in some parts and slightly tarnished…but I have no doubt this used to be very beautiful." Her eyes trailed lightly over the weapon, the barrel, the handle, the trigger, when she suddenly noticed worn out, cursive handwriting on the golden grip. "Dragonstomper .48," she read slowly. The name felt powerful and Dove found herself sitting up a bit straighter.
It was odd to feel both fascination and pity at the same time. Of course she was utterly awed by the weapon, but she also felt very sad that such a beautiful object could be reduced to looking so decrepit. Perhaps…maybe I could fix it up?
Before she could think for too long her stomach began to growl painfully loud and Dove immediately placed the gun back into its case. "Don't worry; I'll try to come back later. Promise," she whispered, talking to the gun as if though it was an actual person. Placing the package out of sight on the top box she finally retreated back into the trapdoor and reentered the castle, delighting in the dust free air. Sweet air!
A few minutes of searching later, she finally uncovered a frantic-looking Logan, who had been having a terrible time as he was scouring the castle, looking for his little sister. "Honestly! I was about to call in the guard!" he scolded, though not too harshly. He was mostly relieved his sister wasn't hurt, even if the dust that draped over her like a blanket had him suspicious.
It had ceased raining outside, but Dove didn't feel like frolicking in the Garden as she wanted to earlier. In fact, all she could think about was the tragedy of that poor, forgotten gun stored away in that attic. Due to spiteful jealousy, she didn't tell anyone about the attic, scared that she might have gotten in trouble for being where she shouldn't have been, and also because she didn't even want to think about sharing her treasure.
The next few days, much to her disappointment, Dove hadn't found any opportunities to go looking for the ancient attic again. When weeks passed, her eagerness and fascination of the gun slowly dimmed and she began ceased her attempts trying to find it, the memory and promise she had made slowly being forgotten. Soon the gun became nothing but a distant dream, the memory so far-off that she never thought about it again unless in a deep trance.
The Dragonstomper .48 became nothing more than ancient history once again, despite the promise she had made to it.
However, if there was one thing Dove knew about herself, it was that she always kept a promise.