Disclaimer: Not mine. Not going to be mine. Not making money. To many 'not's, and not enough 'is's.
. . .
A small boy, no older than eight or nine, ducked behind one of thecolumns inside the castle he had come to call home. He giggled mischievously, bringing his hand up to try and smother the sounds every little boy made when he was up to no good. Peering out from behind the stone cylinder cautiously, the small boy smiled proudly as he examined his handy work.
All of the preparation would pay off, for sure. When Lady Charlene went to speak with the boy's father, she'd have to go through the trap he'd painstakingly laid out just for her. "Come on… come on…" The young Prince Duncan said, fists clenching together in anticipation. In all honesty, if someone were to walk by and see the young prince, they'd be convinced that the boy had forgotten how to use the potty and was doing the potty dance to catch someone's attention. Thankfully, though, no one was around.
A tall lady with long red locks and dressed in a fine white gown strode forward with confidence and poise. She attracted men by the dozen, and was young enough to the young prince's sister. "Come on…" Duncan growled out quietly. As elegant as she seemed, though, Lady Charlene did not understand the word 'awareness.' The elegant lady tripped over the tripwire Duncan had gone to painstaking measures to conceal, setting off the trap he'd spent all morning preparing.
Duncan smirked evilly as he watched. The trip wire released a pulley connected to a seesaw set up above Lady Charlene. The weight on the other end dropped down, turning the seesaw into something similar to a ramp. On the end of the ramp/seesaw was a bucket filled with result of the thirty some horses staying at Castle Araluen being fed. Duncan's smile only widened as the bucket slid down the ramp, tipped over and spilled the contents of the bucket onto Lady Charlene.
Lady Charlene let out a partially terrified, partially disgusted scream. Making little to no noise, Duncan quickly scampered off. The last thing he heard was the sound of his father's office door opening, King Oswald making a sound of surprise, and then sending for someone to clean Lady Charlene.
. . .
Twelve years old and ready to scream, Duncan stared at the old man in front of him. Instructor? More like babysitter… he thought. Professor Philomel stood in front of a chalk board, writing in a language that looked suspiciously like Iberian. "Duncan, translate this, please." The old man said, closing the book he'd been copying from. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Duncan replied;
"Do not check the teeth of a horse given as a present."
"And how do the Iberian people interpret this?" Philomel asked, turning to face the tweenage prince.
"Do not search for faults in a gift, as in don't try to guess the horse's age by looking at its teeth since it is free." Duncan replied. He didn't even bother trying to hide his boredom.
"And how do we interpret this?"
"I just said-"
"How do we- the Araluens- interpret the proverp, Duncan?" Philomel interrupted.
Taking a deep breath through his nose, Duncan replied; "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth." Philomel nodded before opening his book back open and copying another proverb.
Duncan sighed. His father had decided that Duncan had enough free time and added another instructor to the long list of people the young prince reported to. "Enough with the pranking, boy! This is the third time this month you've scared off the foreign performers!" Oswald had exclaimed. Of course, the young prince had good excuse for the pranks. Instructor, my rear end. Darn babysitters…
. . .
Perspiration dripped down the fifteen year old prince's face as he clashed swords with an opponent. "Come on, boy!" MacNiel's gruff voice called from somewhere in the room. "No weakness! No mercy! Show him what you've got!" The swordmaster called out. Duncan resisted the urge to scream back at the man his father insisted that he trained with.
His opponent didn't seem to be in much better shape. "How much longer do they expect us to do this?" The teenager, who just so happened to be the son of Araluen's current battlemaster, asked when they were face to face, swords clashed. Duncan grunted.
He went to reply, but was cut off by another voice. This voice wasn't as gruff as MacNiel's, but it still held that tone that expected to be obeyed. "Swords down." Groaning, the battlemaster's son and the prince dropped their swords. Those watching the fight instantly dropped down to one knee- MacNiel included, finally noticing who'd entered the room.
Screaming on the inside, Duncan turned and gave his father a tight smile. "Hello, father." Gone was the 'hello dad' or 'pa' or any other title he'd used for Oswald before. Narrowing his eyes, Oswald glared at Duncan as if he expected him to bow down as well.
It wasn't required. In fact, up until his father had started taking advice from a group of Barons, bowing down to the king when he entered wasn't even heard of. That is, unless you were a criminal sucking up. "You address the king as 'your majesty', boy." Baron Gereth, one of the Barons Oswald had been listening to, said icily.
"I'm the Crown Prince of Araluen and the king's son, Gereth. That doesn't apply to me." Duncan spat back. "And none of these people should have to get down on one knee as if he is some god. All of you- up!" Duncan called through the court yard. Gereth narrowed his eyes before turning to Oswald like a little girl not getting what she wanted.
"Duncan," His father said coldly, "I want to see you in my office."
. . .
The seventeen year old prince looked at the new 'Ranger' with disinterest. He was just some noble's son who'd paid his way in, by the looks of it. Duncan sighed. His father was killing the kingdom- piece by piece…
First the kneeling, the new titles, higher taxes, then the extra 'helpers' in Oswald's private quarters (most of them being female), and now the allowance of rich boys getting whatever the hell they wanted as long as they'd pay his father's price. By the time his father finally keeled over and died, the kingdom would be in ruins. There wouldn't be anything left to call 'Araluen.'
Things wouldn't seem so bleak for Duncan if it weren't for the fact that his mother didn't seem to care. She was too busy picking out stuck up noble daughters for her son to court. Each and every time Duncan spent time with one of his mother's choice of 'suitor', he'd ended up ditching the spoiled girl or blowing her off. He sighed.
Duncan moved to leave the room. He was fed up with everything his father had done. But, being only the Crown Prince and not the King, he couldn't do anything about it. He moved through the kitchen, doing his best to dodge serving girls and such only to…
Bash into one of the girls. "Hey! Watch where you're going, you- OH! Your highness! Are you alright? I'm so sorry…" The girl, who was actually around his age, said quickly. When Duncan got a good look at the serving girl, his jaw nearly dropped.
She had blonde hair and green eyes.
. . .
His father wanted him in his office. That was never good. Last time Oswald had called him into his office, Duncan was told to either stop seeing the serving girl or she'd be banished from the kingdom. Duncan had protested, saying that his father couldn't do that and that she hadn't done anything wrong and that loving someone wasn't a crime-
When he'd said that, Duncan nearly was banished himself. His mother had spoken to his father and managed to keep the young prince's lover inside the country, but the two were forbidden from ever seeing each other.
Not that they'd listened…
"Father?" Duncan asked as he opened the door. Gone were the days of 'dad' or 'pa.' Now it was just 'father' or 'your majesty,' the latter being used mockingly. He heard his father cough from his seat. The cough made him sound close to death- which in all honesty, Duncan would be perfectly fine with.
"Duncan… come in here, boy." Oswald said in between coughs. "You've been conspiring against me. Your lovesick servant girl has poisoned me- I know it!" Believing Oswald had lost his marbles, Duncan simply replied;
"What?"
"That damn girl you insist on seeing- she's poisoned me!" Oswald exclaimed before lapsing into a coughing fit. Again, Duncan replied;
"What?"
"I said that damn girl has poisoned me!" Oswald yelled.
"I heard you- but she'd never do such a thing! I want proof." Duncan countered. Gagging and coughing, Oswald explained;
"The healers say I've been poisoned. The council and I agree that you and that girl are the logical criminals- you've been trying to get rid of me for years!" Oswald said, again gagging. Not only did he sound close to death, he looked close to death. His red hair was turning white- not grey, white- and new wrinkles were appearing daily. And as he got closer to death, he lost more and more of his sanity.
"Are you saying you think I've done this? Father, why not open your eyes for a bit? Can't you see your phony 'council' is behind this?" The young prince questioned.
"My council is the only thing keeping this country alive!" Oswald snarled. "That's it- Duncan, you've been nothing but a nuisance. Morgarath is right. Guards!" The old king exclaimed.
Four armed knights entered from their position outside the door. "Make sure-" Oswald coughed, "That this boy and his serving girl are taken as far away as possible from me!"
. . .
Prince Duncan, twenty-two years old, widowed, and stuck in a fief as far away as possible from Araluen, looked at the two men in front of him with new interest. They both seemed to be Rangers- real Rangers, the ones he grew up with- and they had a plan that would not only save the country, it would save the Ranger Corps.
"It would work, Sir." The red haired one, Crowley, said as he finished laying out his plans. If he were a spoiled brat, like princes before him, Duncan would've corrected the Ranger for his misuse of calling Duncan 'sir' instead of 'your majesty', but honestly, the prince was past caring. He could hear the soft breathing of his daughter in the corner of the room, and felt a pang of sadness.
His parents would never meet the little girl. His father would never hold his granddaughter. His mother would never coo over her baby's baby. He'd already decided that. The rational part of him had tried to convince him to at least let his mother meet the child, but the angry part of him won the battle.
Duncan breathed through his nose. The plan the two Rangers had laid out would gain him the kingdom. He wasn't sure if he wanted that. From what they'd told him, his father was close to dying. A few more months were left in his father's reign. If Duncan were to prepare now, he could stop Morgarath and the other renegade barons from taking over. He could rebuild the kingdom.
But… did he want this? Did he want the responsibility that had destroyed his family? All he had left was the sleeping baby Cassandra. Even his wife was gone- she'd died in childbirth. Taking another breath through his nose, Duncan made up his mind.
He'd listen to the Rangers. Not because he wanted the power that was killing his father, but so his little girl could grow up in a place worth living in.
. . .
Kneeling by his father's bedside, Duncan held out the little girl he'd promised himself he'd never let Oswald meet. Swallowing the spit forming in his throat, Duncan allowed his father- the man he swore he hated with every fiber of his being- take his baby and hold the child gently. Duncan lowered his head, not daring to make eye contact with his father.
"You were right." Oswald croaked, holding Cassandra softly. Duncan looked up and, begrudgingly, met his father's gaze. "Morgarath, Lendin, Bertrum… they're the one responsible for this. All the chaos happening… it's my fault. I let them have the power…"
Duncan didn't say anything. He wasn't going to let the dying man off the hook. He wanted Oswald to know he'd messed up. "And because of it, I've ruined more than just this country. I ruined this family. Your mother… oh, your dear mother…" Oswald croaked, letting go of Duncan's gaze. Duncan knew what Oswald was talking about. His mother had finally found out. She'd finally found out about the numerous affairs Oswald had had. Every single one- Lady Charlene, the foreign performers, Queen Maria… the list went on and on and on.
Still, Araluen's Crown Prince didn't say anything. "Your wife… I'm so sorry about what happened to her. If I wouldn't've sent you away, she would've had proper healers caring for her, and you wouldn't be alone…" Duncan still didn't say anything. That part wasn't his father's fault. The healers who'd cared for his wife had been far more superior in the northeast than the healers at Araluen.
"Duncan… I want you to fix everything. Take the crown and stop Morgarath and the others from completely destroying Araluen. Create a kingdom that this little girl could grow up in. Defeat the Council." Oswald extended his hand. Duncan didn't know what to do for a moment. For nearly fifteen years, the man had put him through hell. And now, he expected everything between them to suddenly be fixed just because Oswald was dying?
Finally, Duncan took his father's hand and shook it. "Okay." One word was enough to allow the old king to rest in peace, knowing his son had somewhat forgiven him.
. . .
Umm… so… late promise? ::crickets chirp:: Yeah, I know, I said Saturday. I'm late. Realllllllly late. But you know what? My plan had been to write the stuff people wanted and post them when I got home from camp. But then my parents surprised me with a visit to my grandparents and then I had another summer camp to go to, so I just never got around to it.
To explain this story: Based off the math I did, Cassandra would've been born right around the time the first war with Morgarath happened. Her mother's name was never mentioned, so I just titled her with other things. It never says she died in childbirth, but I'm going to assume she's dead in the books (considering she NEVER SHOWS UP). I honestly think Oswald wasn't that much of a cheater, but who knows? I remember it saying somewhere in the books that Duncan had red hair, so I'm going to assume his wife had blonde hair so Cass could have blonde hair, too. Green eyes- well, in the second (?) book, it says Cass and Duncan both have green eyes. Just for kinks, I gave Duncan's wife green eyes, too.
As for part two of the promise- I'll probably (not) post another chapter of Shattered later tonight. I can't restart production of Hero yet because inspiration struck (again) for that story and such. Who knows what I'll do…
-Sharkbait