This is technically a revised version. Except by 'revised' what I really mean is that I went through it and made the paragraphs shorter because I know that the way they are displayed on this website makes them look nastily large. Anyway, this is my first attempt at fanfiction and as such I think it gets better as it goes along. And all that.
Disclaimer: I disclaim, none of it is mine, it all belong to Tamora Pierce and I am just borrowing. (Except for the bits that I invented).
'A princess must always be mannerly. The deportment of a princess is the point of reference for all court ladies…' Kalasin sighed as she copied the lesson, transferring the rules of royal etiquette from an ancient leather-bound tome into her own handwritten volume. It was a traditional practice – each successive generation of Tortallan princes and princesses spent years studying how best to present themselves in a royal court by writing out a lesson every day. The Princess' tutors frequently claimed that the large and cumbersome book which resulted from such endeavours would ensure that she never embarrassed herself in public.
In the eyes of those whose job it was to train the royal progeny, no crime was as serious as the accidental use of the wrong fork at dinner, or an inelegant curtsey to a foreign dignitary. Whilst Kalasin, despite her best efforts, couldn't refute the importance of maintaining a suitably regal presence (it was, as her mother frequently reminded her, the most important weapon in the purely metaphorical armoury of a princess) she often wondered at the wisdom of this particular method of teaching. The only explanation she and Roald had ever thought up for the dull lessons was that the prolonged exposure to such excruciating tedium was perhaps intended to bore all traces of rebelliousness out of the royal children.
Carefully, she closed the book and placed it beside her on the polished wood of her window-seat, glancing outside into the enclosed courtyard where her youngest siblings played, throwing and catching a stuffed leather ball, enjoying the spring sunshine. At six, nine years younger than the Princess, the twins were still learning their letters, and were young enough yet to avoid the long days spent learning etiquette in the King's study.
"I see you've finished the lesson already?" A deep voice interrupted Kalasin's musings. Her father was looking up at her from his desk, "I know it's boring, but it's useful. Anyway, just think of the benefits to your handwriting!"
The Princess smiled, allowing herself to enjoy the light-hearted banter, ignoring the strained note in the King's voice and the look of sadness that he couldn't quite keep from showing in his eyes. Her gaze drifted to the piece of paper he clutched in one hand: a letter with the Queenscove seal. She unconsciously fingered a well-worn black velvet band on her wrist. News about her younger brother, she guessed, and not good news by the look of it.
She quickly turned her attention to the etiquette books. 'To fail to be polite is to sully one's reputation,' she wrote, focusing on the loops and curls of formal script, shoving all thoughts of her sibling from her mind, barely noticing as the door to the study opened to admit her mother.
Thayet quickly crossed the room to stand beside her husband's desk. "News from His Grace?" she asked, clearly anxious. Jonathan nodded, glancing pointedly at Kalasin who sat in the window-seat, apparently absorbed in her lessons. The Queen turned with a rustle of silk. "Kally?" The Princess looked up. "I think you've been cooped up long enough. It's a lovely day outside and I need to talk to your father. Could you go and watch Jasson and Lianne?"
Kalasin stood and curtseyed to her parents, pleased to be allowed to go and sit in the little square of garden, with its soft green lawn and the pretty flowerbeds that the Queen insisted should be left to grow wild. She enjoyed spending time with the twins, too: they were so young and carefree, not yet weighed down by royal responsibility. An hour or two with her little brother and sister and Kally would always feel herself relax, forgetting to care about whether or not she was sitting up straight enough or if her hairpins were still in place.
The delicate scent of the wildflowers enveloped her senses as she walked into the garden. She shut her eyes for a moment, savouring the fresh coolness of the air, before flopping onto the grass, grinning as the young Prince and Princess caught sight of her and swiftly abandoned their game in favour of joining her. Jasson, well accustomed to working around his bossy twin's whims and needs, settled himself beside his elder sister, allowing Lianne to tumble into Kalasin's lap and dramatically announce that she was exhausted. Kally laughed at the little girl's antics and tickled her, teasing her siblings in K'mir, the rapid, flowing language of her mother's race.
Only half listening to the children as they relayed the day's events – including what they had had for breakfast, and exactly what the dead frog that Jass had found in the morning looked like – Kally let her mind wander, soon finding herself considering her own childhood. It had never been normal, she reflected, but it had been happy. Her parents were not as distant as many monarchs were - the princes and princesses of Tortall had all grown up in the pleasant royal wing of the palace, under the watchful eyes of King Jonathan and Queen Thayet, one or two experienced nursemaids and countless 'aunts' and 'uncles' – but, like any royal couple, they understood that their offspring needed to be independent.
As their children grew, the pair had carefully and gradually introduced the formal relationship expected between rulers and their children. By the time they were six, the young princes and princesses were taught to acknowledge their parents' rank in public by bowing; at eight they attended courtly parties during the day, and by ten they were expected to be capable of performing as befitted their status in all social situations.
It was a system borne out of necessity, Kalasin knew. On the death of the ruling monarch, the Crown Prince was expected to accede to the throne as quickly and painlessly as possible, binding himself to the land to ensure his own stability. A grieving heir meant a longer period of time with no reigning king: an opportunity, as her own father's coronation had proved, for the plans of would-be conspirators against the Crown to gain momentum. By distancing themselves from their children, the monarchs exploited the gap between the generations, forcing the young royals to rely on one another for support and to forge relationships with the sons and daughters of the aristocracy – thus creating the basis for the court and council of the future.
Kally suspected that this tactic was also useful in other ways. It wasn't written anywhere in her books on 'The Role of a Princess' but she knew that her chief importance was as a diplomatic bargaining tool – no amount of treasure or wartime casualties were as effective in international politics as Marriages of State. Roald, often dismissed as quiet or shy, possessed a dry wit that had often made Kalasin laugh - but never as much as when he speculated on the reasons why their parents had decided to have seven children. Yet, during the recent negotiations with Carthak over her marriage to the young Emperor, it had occurred to the Princess that perhaps her brother had been serious when he suggested that Jonathan and Thayet – both only children – were sick of the assassinations and political coups that came with being the only heir to a kingdom.
Feeling a pang of loneliness as she thought of Roald - still training with his knight-master at Port Legann - Kalasin gently shunted Lianne onto the grass, raising herself up to peer into the window of her father's study. The conversation was certainly animated: judging by the Queen's look of exasperation and her expansive hand gestures the couple were in disagreement.
Settling back on the grass, the Princess wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or annoyed. Her parents weren't talking about her marriage; she could tell that much from the letter her father had been holding earlier. Of course, she thought bitterly, that means that they're arguing about Johnny – Jonathan – the second eldest prince, three years her junior. Kalasin shut her eyes and breathed deeply, forcing back a wave of anger at the thought of her brother, tugging at the black band on her wrist. Jasson, perceptive for his years, noticed her sudden change in mood.
"Kally? Are you alright?"
She opened her eyes, looking at the boy, and leaned forward to pull a few blades of grass out of his jet-black hair. "I'm fine," she sighed.
"Why are you playing with that black bracelet?" Lianne asked. "And why are you still wearing it? It's old and dirty," she said pulling a mock-disgusted face, as her brother nodded in solemn agreement.
Kalasin lay down on the floor and inspected the soft velvet band. Lanny was right, it was tatty, but she wasn't ready to take it off yet. "I wear it for our sister," she said softly.
"Vania. Mama told me," Lianne replied. "I don't remember her though. Neither does Jass." The boy shook his head, reinforcing the point. His twin yawned and lay on her back next to Kally. "Mama said Vania was born with me and Jasson, and she died when we were still babies. Papa said she was weak and that's why she died." Jasson tugged at one of his shoelaces, restless and eager to play catch-the-ball again. He grabbed a clump of grass and threw it over his sisters, chuckling as Lanny leapt up and ran across the lawn, shouting at him in the strange part-Common part-K'mir dialect that they used to communicate when alone.
Kalasin watched as her brother ran off to play; mulling over what the little girl had said. She wondered if her parents would ever tell the twins the full story of Vania's death. Probably not, she mused. The twins were too young to understand the word 'murder'. Besides, she thought bitterly, they wouldn't risk turning the little ones against their dear little lunatic son.
I can't really see the point in saying "PLEASE REVIEW" just here as there are, in fact, other chapters posted at the moment. So please read on. Unless you have found this first chapter so bad that you can't face reading on. In which case, please review and tell me why.