Alianora's Daughter
This is an EFC fic. Cimorene, Daystar, Alianora, Mendanbar and the fire spell belong to P.C. Wrede. My name for the Stone Prince belongs to me, as do the plot and Isolde. Please read and reveiw. If you steal my story, or take it without asking, may Telemain and Morwen sic the cats on you, may Kazul roast you, and may Daystar and Mendanbar spit you with the Sword, while all the other characters caper in ceaseless glee.
***
The girl with the silver tiara started to run as clouds spilled from somewhere in the Enchanted Forest.
'Papa will kill me if I ruin this dress!' Silver began to fall in rhythmic tinkling, and dark splotches appeared on her rose silk gown. She pulled on a thick cloak, then sped toward the small cottage standing outside the Forest. Her pink satin dancing slippers raised clods of muddy gravel as she ran toward the dark, wooden door.
"Let me in! Please!"
A tall woman opened the door with a low creak..k..k..k. She was beautiful, with piercing eyes and yards
of raven colored hair. About her proud brow was a braided leather band, with pearl studs. She wore the simple, laced garb of a peasant, but something in her demeanor warned the girl.
'A sorceress.'
"Come in," she said, in a low voice, proud yet humble, gentle yet commanding, and filled with an
emotion the girl could not name. Was it sorrow? Or was it a bittersweet self-mockery? Or even an ironic
pity, for did this woman not have more need to be pitied than pitying?
"Do not stand there child, the heat is escaping."
"I'm sorry." She entered, and the woman closed the door behind her. The girl stared in wonder. The
cottage was too big for it's outside proportions. Again the thought came to her unbidden.
'A sorceress.'
Her mouth acted without her.
"Are you a sorceress?"
"I know a bit of dragon magic, but it was my friends and husband who were the true magic makers."
"Did your husband build the house?"
"My friends did." It was a warning, telling her not to pry.
"What is your name?"
"Ci- Cecilia."
'She's lying.'
"Who are you, child, that you must come gasping to the door of a stranger for admittance?"
Her voice held laughter.
"I am the Imperial Princess Isolde of Trandellan, daughter to their Imperial Majesties Queen Alianora
and King Rowan."
The sorceress stared for a moment.
"Did you say...never mind, child..."
"What is it?"
"It's nothing, youngling, nothing at all." She kept her face averted from Isolde's, then laughed.
"Daystar," 'Cecilia' called, "come meet the Princess Isolde!"
A tall, gangly boy poked his head over the stairs to the loft, then slid down the banister.
" 'Ello!"
Isolde looked at him. He was studious looking. And he didn't look like his mother. He looked like a
picture of that King who disappeared 14 years ago- Mendanbar of the Enchanted Forest. He was, or had been, (Isolde was inclined to think that anyone who fought wizards and then disappeared for 14 years
was dead) Mother's old friend's husband.
"Why are you staring at me?"
"Ummm, uhhh, you see..."
"Never mind, don't tell me. You think I'm adopted or something, right...well...never mind." He
embarked on a long conversation on life in general, and made such droll remarks that even his mother laughed, though she seemed to be a quiet and reserved woman. A few hour's later, the sorceress began
to cook. A savory smell filled the air. 'Cecilia' went over to a fire and doled stew from a pot.
"This may offend your royal tastes, but..."
She set a bowl in front of her. Isolde gingerly took a bite, then began to eat eagerly. The food was wonderful, rabbit, with tender mushrooms. At home she got veal medallions and such, no simple food.
"This stew is better than the castle cook's!"
"I'm flattered."
Isolde looked at her. The dark-haired woman's voice seemed caught.
"What on Earth is wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Mother," Daystar said, "you never cry."
"It's just, I knew your mother when I was young, child. I haven't spoken to her in years. She must think
I vanished from the Earth's face. I lied to you, youngling, and I'm sorry. I did not know if I could trust you. If you see your mother, tell her Cimorene sends her greetings."
Isolde racked her brains. Her mother had had friends among the servants, she knew, Lyndra and
Zeldanna. There was no Cimorene, but there had been a women named Semeli. Perhaps Cimorene's parents had not been able to spell, and given her an odd variation of the popular Trandellian name. The only other Cimorene Isolde knew of was the Queen of the Enchanted Forest, who had disappeared after
her husband. Some said she was living in seclusion in a cloister in her home kingdom of Linderwall,
and some said she lived with the King of the Dragons. Isolde thought she was dead. This woman could
not be her. No Queen would wish to live as a peasant.
"I will tell her. And I thank you."
"You should stay here for the night. Your mother would kill me if I let you out in that storm."
"Thank you."
"I'll take you to the spare room."
As she followed Cimorene to the guest room, she looked over her shoulder. As she looked at a small mirror, a man's face appeared, silently mouthing words. It was gone just as suddenly.
'Daystar was playing tricks, or it was my imagination. There is no man in the mirror.' She thanked Cimorene and shut the door, then dreamed of a young woman screaming a single word as she sat by the bank of a sluggish creek.
"Mendanbar!"
Then a darkness. Her mother and a young woman who looked like a young Cimorene rubbing
themselves in blue goo and chanting:
"Power of water, wind and Earth,
Turn the spell back to it's birth
Raise the spell to shield the flame
By the power we have tamed."
Then the dreams ceased, and she fell into a restless slumber.
This is an EFC fic. Cimorene, Daystar, Alianora, Mendanbar and the fire spell belong to P.C. Wrede. My name for the Stone Prince belongs to me, as do the plot and Isolde. Please read and reveiw. If you steal my story, or take it without asking, may Telemain and Morwen sic the cats on you, may Kazul roast you, and may Daystar and Mendanbar spit you with the Sword, while all the other characters caper in ceaseless glee.
***
The girl with the silver tiara started to run as clouds spilled from somewhere in the Enchanted Forest.
'Papa will kill me if I ruin this dress!' Silver began to fall in rhythmic tinkling, and dark splotches appeared on her rose silk gown. She pulled on a thick cloak, then sped toward the small cottage standing outside the Forest. Her pink satin dancing slippers raised clods of muddy gravel as she ran toward the dark, wooden door.
"Let me in! Please!"
A tall woman opened the door with a low creak..k..k..k. She was beautiful, with piercing eyes and yards
of raven colored hair. About her proud brow was a braided leather band, with pearl studs. She wore the simple, laced garb of a peasant, but something in her demeanor warned the girl.
'A sorceress.'
"Come in," she said, in a low voice, proud yet humble, gentle yet commanding, and filled with an
emotion the girl could not name. Was it sorrow? Or was it a bittersweet self-mockery? Or even an ironic
pity, for did this woman not have more need to be pitied than pitying?
"Do not stand there child, the heat is escaping."
"I'm sorry." She entered, and the woman closed the door behind her. The girl stared in wonder. The
cottage was too big for it's outside proportions. Again the thought came to her unbidden.
'A sorceress.'
Her mouth acted without her.
"Are you a sorceress?"
"I know a bit of dragon magic, but it was my friends and husband who were the true magic makers."
"Did your husband build the house?"
"My friends did." It was a warning, telling her not to pry.
"What is your name?"
"Ci- Cecilia."
'She's lying.'
"Who are you, child, that you must come gasping to the door of a stranger for admittance?"
Her voice held laughter.
"I am the Imperial Princess Isolde of Trandellan, daughter to their Imperial Majesties Queen Alianora
and King Rowan."
The sorceress stared for a moment.
"Did you say...never mind, child..."
"What is it?"
"It's nothing, youngling, nothing at all." She kept her face averted from Isolde's, then laughed.
"Daystar," 'Cecilia' called, "come meet the Princess Isolde!"
A tall, gangly boy poked his head over the stairs to the loft, then slid down the banister.
" 'Ello!"
Isolde looked at him. He was studious looking. And he didn't look like his mother. He looked like a
picture of that King who disappeared 14 years ago- Mendanbar of the Enchanted Forest. He was, or had been, (Isolde was inclined to think that anyone who fought wizards and then disappeared for 14 years
was dead) Mother's old friend's husband.
"Why are you staring at me?"
"Ummm, uhhh, you see..."
"Never mind, don't tell me. You think I'm adopted or something, right...well...never mind." He
embarked on a long conversation on life in general, and made such droll remarks that even his mother laughed, though she seemed to be a quiet and reserved woman. A few hour's later, the sorceress began
to cook. A savory smell filled the air. 'Cecilia' went over to a fire and doled stew from a pot.
"This may offend your royal tastes, but..."
She set a bowl in front of her. Isolde gingerly took a bite, then began to eat eagerly. The food was wonderful, rabbit, with tender mushrooms. At home she got veal medallions and such, no simple food.
"This stew is better than the castle cook's!"
"I'm flattered."
Isolde looked at her. The dark-haired woman's voice seemed caught.
"What on Earth is wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Mother," Daystar said, "you never cry."
"It's just, I knew your mother when I was young, child. I haven't spoken to her in years. She must think
I vanished from the Earth's face. I lied to you, youngling, and I'm sorry. I did not know if I could trust you. If you see your mother, tell her Cimorene sends her greetings."
Isolde racked her brains. Her mother had had friends among the servants, she knew, Lyndra and
Zeldanna. There was no Cimorene, but there had been a women named Semeli. Perhaps Cimorene's parents had not been able to spell, and given her an odd variation of the popular Trandellian name. The only other Cimorene Isolde knew of was the Queen of the Enchanted Forest, who had disappeared after
her husband. Some said she was living in seclusion in a cloister in her home kingdom of Linderwall,
and some said she lived with the King of the Dragons. Isolde thought she was dead. This woman could
not be her. No Queen would wish to live as a peasant.
"I will tell her. And I thank you."
"You should stay here for the night. Your mother would kill me if I let you out in that storm."
"Thank you."
"I'll take you to the spare room."
As she followed Cimorene to the guest room, she looked over her shoulder. As she looked at a small mirror, a man's face appeared, silently mouthing words. It was gone just as suddenly.
'Daystar was playing tricks, or it was my imagination. There is no man in the mirror.' She thanked Cimorene and shut the door, then dreamed of a young woman screaming a single word as she sat by the bank of a sluggish creek.
"Mendanbar!"
Then a darkness. Her mother and a young woman who looked like a young Cimorene rubbing
themselves in blue goo and chanting:
"Power of water, wind and Earth,
Turn the spell back to it's birth
Raise the spell to shield the flame
By the power we have tamed."
Then the dreams ceased, and she fell into a restless slumber.