Written for the TPE BINGO Bulb prompt. I was actually inspired to write this by reading some of TamariChan's stories about the younger generation. Now I read back through it some of the paragraphs would make great summaries for other stories. ;) Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Time was strange thing, looked at differently by each and every creature. The humans measured it in seconds which added up to minutes and hours and on and on to millennia. The tree would never understand that. It measured time in seasons, cycles and lifetimes. Seasons had a beginning and an end, so did lifetimes, but the cycle was everlasting.
As the tree looked down on the new generation of royals he thought this was truer than ever. It seemed only a moment ago that bells had tolled for the joining of a Conte and a Naxen, a couple to become King and Queen. They were young and carefree beginning a new life, now their namesakes wandered the gardens. The tree was very old, it had marked many a spring with the bulbs emerging from the soil around its base, it had seen many a lifetime begin and end.
It still remembered the day they announced the old king's fate, the day the young prince with blue eyes had sat against the tree with his face in his hands and cried. The tree cried too, leaves fluttering down to shelter the boy. The boy became a man in the space of a day, the weight of a crown heavy upon his head. The oak felt joy when the new prince was born, named after the man he had once watched in awe. A selfless boy soon followed by a beautiful headstrong sister, a kind brother, a reckless brother, a loving carefree sister and the proud youngest princess.
The tree stared as the prince spoke softly to the lovely Yamani princess under its boughs. The flowers in her hair spoke of trees and blossoms it had never dreamed existed. And she and Roald spoke fervently of distant lands. Leaves fell gently on the couple as they stared into each other's eyes and the oak felt happy in the knowledge the future royal couple felt true love.
Snow was falling as Kalasin kicked and yelled silently at being sent away, the girl had a fire within her eyes and the old oak knew she would bring life to wherever she was bound. Ever since she was young she had snuck away from her governess to practice sword fighting in the back of the garden, it was only several seasons ago her mother had caught her. The tree hoped whomever she was destined to marry did not mind a fighting wife, for that was what he would have.
The bulbs were blooming into lovely trumpeted flowers as Liam dreamed and imagined, his head resting gently on the trunk. He was bound for the Scanran battlefields soon, to fight beside his brothers and friends. The tree felt fear for the kind young man, a war was no place for him, and it hoped he would survive.
The summer heat was arriving as Jasson wooed noble woman after noblewoman in the gardens with light touches and pretty words. After a few nights he would move on leaving a path of devastated girls in his wake. The tree looked on in amusement, for it knew in the way wise beings do that one day the young prince would meet his match.
The air was turning crisp once more as the tree watched another couple look upon each other with adoring eyes. Lianne kissed her secret lover one more time and with a giddy smile ran off into the night. As an old oak it knew for her being the younger princess had been a blessing, a lack of responsibility and scrutiny. She could have her love, and her freedom.
The air was cold, and so were her eyes. Beautiful like her mother and sisters she climbed through the branches to the very spindliest ones where she could go no further. The view was amazing and she stared around like a ruler, only all she could stare at was a land that would never be hers. Snow fell as the night passed and she descended with care. Vania was very proud and so far no men at court had even come close to the wall of ice around her heart.
Leaves fell, snow blanketed the ground, the sun returned, and the flowers blossomed. Seasons passed and the children grew older. The tree knew soon it would be time to rest, three generations of Contes had stood beneath its branches, consumed with passion, love, anger, fear and sorrow. Though they didn't know it, and probably never would, the tree had always watched them; and it had always cared.