Nixiesocean: Hullo and welcome to the long-anticipated sequel to Lady in Shining Armor but can be read along! The story focuses on Ade, the son of Queen Katharine II and King Lance IV.

Info on the Royal Family:

King Lance IV – King Lance is the king of Furde. He is married to Queen Katharine II. He is the father of Aram, Ade, Averill and Alan.

Queen Katharine II – Queen Katharine is the queen of Furde. She is married to King Lance IV and her temper is well known.

Aram - Aram is the eldest of the sons in the royal family. He is hotheaded, like his mother, and also a swordsman.

Ade - Ade is the younger twin to Aram, the firstborn son and Crown Prince of Furde. Ade is a bookworm, and the palace servants call him "The Hermit" for his lack of social interest.

Averill - Averill is the third child, and a troublemaker. He is continually in trouble and hates his family.

Alan - Alan is the youngest and being such, is a pain to Ade.

This is a multi-part story; The Beginning is only the first part.

Part One of The Younger Twin

The Beginning

Chapter 1: The Palace of Furde

I love my books. Aram doesn't. Aram likes to whack people with sticks, like Mother. Mother is the queen. She's a hothead, the servants say. And Aram's more like her than I ever will be. They're both hotheads. I'm the calm-headed one. People say it's to balance Aram and I. He's the fighter, I'm the reader. He's the hothead; I'm the calm one. He's the Crown Prince. I'm not. I'm just a prince. We have two annoying little brothers. Alan, the youngest, at least respects me. Averill is just a pain. A royal pain.

Aram and I are twins. We both have midnight-black hair, like Mother, and bright jade eyes, like Father. Averill doesn't take after anyone. He has little respect for anyone. Alan is an odd little sibling. He's sometimes quiet and sometimes annoying. Most little sibs are just plain irritating, like Averill.

I sigh and set down my book. Averill stresses me out. Last time, three years ago, he called his cleaning maid, Fiona, a piece of trash, and some other words. Then, Mother found a journal entry of his. Seriously, who would really put their anger into writing? He told all his feelings, about everything. It was like a jackpot for Mother. Averill had any free time taken away for a year. When Midwinter came around, he had to stay in his rooms (except for the royal appearance) and contemplate what he had done wrong.

I'm eighteen tomorrow. When you think about it, so is Aram. Ceara, our best friend, will be eighteen in a week or so. We're very close. Aram sees Ceara as a friend, as I do. But, something lately, has begun to surface. I hate it! Every time Ceara comes round the corner, I become babble-headed. My tongue either freezes or is too loose. I fear one day I'll let my secret slip.

It'd ruin our friendship. Any sort of chance at courtship isn't worth that. I sigh again and get up. The chair, I swear, will swallow me if I don't get up and walk around. I leave the confines of my royal rooms. I walk, any direction really. I find myself staring at the door to Ceara's rooms. I panic and attempt to walk calmly away. Why won't my brain work normally?

I swore I'd never tell my parents. They'd try to get Lady Cyrun and Lord Bamien to match-make us. I'd rather have a crush in secret. Even Aram doesn't know. That's saying something there.

"Ade?" I hear a voice call. "What are you doing here?" I know the voice. Part of me is happy to hear it. The more sensible, less love-struck side, is horrified. Here, I'll look the fool in front of… her.

I turn. There she is, in all her heavenly glory. I bite my tongue, though not hard. "Hi, Ceara." She wears a creamy tunic that stops mid-thigh. Then, she has breeches, a brown color, that stops mid-calf. They accent her strong legs. Her hair is silver, inherited from her parents, and her eyes are sparkling blue, inherited from her mother.

"What are you doing here?" She repeats.

My brain fumbles for words… I can't find any. Sirens go off in my head. "Umm, I was just thinking and, um," I never stutter. She makes me stutter! "I was trying to find the library and, um-"

"The library is halfway across the palace, why are you here looking for it?" She suspects something. I can't let her know!

"I know." I mumble. "I was, um, too deep in thought to notice!" I declare. She knows this is a lie. I can't help it. I wasn't born to lie, like a common thief. "What are you doing here?" It's a lame question. She lives here!

"I live there. Don't think I didn't hear you." She replies. She comes closer. She makes me nervous, but Goddess bless it, she's beautiful! I'm charmed, like any other man. She hates men that do that. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from looking like those other men. She similes. I hate –NO! I love- it when she smiles! She makes my stomach catch fire and I feel like a puddle of goo. But I know that smile is for her friend, not a beau. "What are you doing here? Pray, tell!"

"Um," I am frantic. I have nothing to explain my presence. "No reason, I guess."

She cocks her head. Her silver hair falls slightly out of the hasty bun. Her bright blue eyes set my heart on fire. "Well, do you want to come play chess?"

My mouth blurts out an answer before my brain can think about it, "I'd love to!" Somehow, I feel relief. I want this, I realize. I want her to invite me to play chess. To sit and silently watch the flicker of firelight- I stop my over-active imagination. I can't do those types of things- not without ruining our essential friendship.

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I smashed into the dummy, hitting it hard. My arm felt the impact as it shuddered through my shoulder and down my spine. I heard cheering. I saw my "posse" as it's called. Young lords-to-be are in it; ladies looking for husbands are in it. I turn Valor's Heart, my gelding, and bow comically to the posse. They cheer louder. I smile underneath the practice armor.

Mother, the queen of Furde, came out to watch. She smiled gently. I realized she wasn't in a dress, her normal garb. She was in a loose blouse and breeches. My mother looks well suited in each, I might add. She called across the courtyard, "Prince Aram! I challenge you to a duel of three touches!"

Three touches. I rode Heart over, dismounting when a "lordling" came and got it for me. "Queen Katharine the Second! I accept your challenge!" She often challenged me. When I lost, my posse would comfort me, telling me how could I, a lad of eighteen, possibly beat the best swordswoman in Furde? No, it was well I could last a minute.

She rapidly dressed in practice armor. She handed me a sword, a wooden one. It was far too light, wood often is. The posse made a human tunnel. Some men patted me on the back saying, "It's been nice knowing you." My mother led me to the center of the practice ring. When a lady dropped her handkerchief, we started. Both of us started in a guard position, but we swiftly moved out of it.

Her sword was a blur. I assumed mine was too. I heard clacking, wood-on-wood. She came down in a Guarded Crescent. I blocked. She followed through, not so gently hitting my left leg. She narrowed her eyes, "Watch your legs, son!"

"ONE!" Someone called out.

I grinned foolishly. We both knew of our tempers. If I goaded her, she'd goad me in turn. We'd end up smacking ourselves to death. I ignored her by coming down speedily doing a Crescent. While she tried to guard it, I moved my sword out of the way, smacking her thigh. "Watch your thighs, Mother Dearest!"

"ONE!" My Counter called out.

She swept from the side in an Axe-Meets-Tree maneuver. The thrill of dueling overcame me. I jumped to the side, neatly rolling and standing up. A woman gasped. My mother charged, wielding her sword high above her. I saw an opportunity. She hadn't realized how weak the guarding on her right thigh was. I leapt forward and harshly spun my sword around her right thigh. It was the same one I had tapped before.

"TWO!" My Counter called.

Mother groaned from the impact. She brought her sword back up. Her hair was falling out of the bun she wore it in, sticking to her face. We were both drenched in sweat. Time seemed to slow. She swept from the opposite side, my left that was weaker, in an Opposite-Axe-Meets-Tree. She contacted my side before I could react.

"TWO!" Her Counter called.

The next tap was the winner. We were tiring. She'd swing clumsily, I'd block. Mother isn't as good as she was ten years ago when I first started to learn the sword. I'm getting off track. I focused on the duel. She swung in a desperate attempt to gain an edge. I brought my sword up. With a deadly grin, she twisted her sword and struck my sword arm. It stung. I realized her ragged breaths and lagging reflexes was all a show.

"THREE!" Her Counted shouted. The women cheered. I barely held onto my sword. My mother came over, whispering quietly,

"Watch for fakes, dear son. Hand me your sword." I refused. I stood regally and walked off, attempting not to limp from one of her earlier "touches".

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I looked at the board. The chess game was nearly over. Ceara had almost won again. I sighed. In a desperate attempt to win, I sacrificed my queen. Ceara didn't take the bait, easily moving me into checkmate.

"It's good to see you tried to trick me, Ade." She's always known us apart. I looked down at the board; all of my white men were gone, all except one, the King. The King was in checkmate, so I couldn't do anything anyways. I sighed again and started to put away the figurines. Ceara's paler hand crossed into my field of vision. Even the mere brush of her hand sent shivers down my spine. She was helping to put away the pieces.

Finally, they were all gone, and she got up. She was graceful. Elegantly, she selected a book from her personal library. "Here." She said. "Read this."

I took a peak at the cover, A Study on Dragons. I smiled. She caught my hand. Where she touched was on fire. "Yes?" I asked dumbly.

Her eyes sparkled. Whatever was there, I couldn't detect. Hope? Anguish? "Come back after you've read it." I nodded and gently closed the door behind me. I sighed. My "other sense" as I've dubbed it itched. Aram was near. I looked up. Lone behold, there my twin was, a grin on his sweat-soaked face.

"What?" I asked innocently.