An: Reuploaded chapter one. This story is just a little side trip, I'm not seeking to write book four. ;) I hope you like it, but I'm writing my own story, and I think everyone should get a happy ending once in a while. If you don't like my story, you don't have to read it. :)
"Papa, can we dance again?" I asked my father, Lord Fior, as he set out for a long, tiresome trip to his holdings down in Belatona. It was 'code' for practice swordplay –my mother thought it was unladylike, but I had always thought that the figures spinning around, so light on their feet, swords weaving in and out, resembled a dance.
He placed a heavy hand on my head and replied with a ghost of a smile, "Not today, Aeneid," he told me. I hung my young seven-year-old head. "But come," he whispered, "I want to show you something."
He led me down, deep into our wine cellars, passing cobwebbed bottles of dark drink. "You must never show anyone this, not even your mother," he told me seriously. "You must never come down here without me."
I promised.
He pressed a hidden catch in the wall, which swung open to reveal a damp smelling passageway. Cool air drifted in around my toes. Taking a torch from the wall, he walked in.
It wasn't a passage way, just a small room, completely empty except for the chest in the center. I marveled at it; the wood was carved elegantly with scrolling panels portraying battles and mountain scenery…and on the very top was a dragon. My father pushed the chest lid open. The very first thing my eyes lit on was a long box, plain and thin. Pulling this out, my father opened it up.
I gasped.
It was a sword, but more beautiful than any sword I had ever seen. The sheath was white as ivory, gleaming like the day it was made. The guard was elegantly crafted in the image of waves. It almost seemed like the metal would ripple. The grip was black leather, and the pommel was set with what looked like a large crystal or diamond. On the scabbard there was an elegant symbol. I reached out to touch it, but my father stopped me.
"You must never touch," he told me.
"Are there more things in the chest?" I asked hesitantly, my gaze still upon the weapon.
"Yes, but I'll not show them to you now." He closed the lids and led me out of the room, much to my regret. "Now, remember your promise," he instructed me as we reached the first floor of our manor."
"I shall," I told him with a smile. Giving him a hug, I murmured, "Be safe. And come back soon so you can meet Murgatroyd."
"Who?" he asked, confused.
"My friend," I said. "He's not here right now. He comes and goes."
My mother, the lady Eleanor, had come up behind me, and she placed her hands on my shoulders. "Her imaginary friend," she said tolerantly.
I frowned. He wasn't imaginary. I'd show father when he came back.
He kissed my mother and me goodbye, and mounted his horse, leaving with his entourage.
He didn't come back. Waylaid by bandits, they had said. I missed him terribly. But I kept my promise, and the secret of the mysterious, beautiful sword stayed in my head. I told no one.
Except Murgatroyd. But he already knew, I discovered.
"Murgatroyd?" I called, scanning the courtyard of our manner. The rose bushes rustled a few paces away; I dashed over, not heeding the thorns tearing at my blue skirts. Falling into the ground, I crawled into the tangled undergrowth that the gardeners tried without success to prune back. Quite unladylike behavior for a girl of nearly eighteen, but I did it anyway. It wasn't like there was anyone to see me.
His golden eyes glowed in the dim light. I smiled as I heard him say, Must ye make such a ruckus?
"I'm glad to see you!" I objected.
Silently, he said.
I rolled my eyes. Fine, I muttered with my mind. But this isn't really necessary.
You haven't been practicing, have you? He asked.
I chewed my lip, asking myself if I really wanted to tell him the truth. A tail twitch was all the warning that I had before me pounced on top of me –all sixteen pounds of him. Um, Murgatroyd, you need to lay off the mice, I complained.
He dug his claws into my skin and I winced. You need to start doing what I say, he growled.
I do!
Not always.
I stared up at my best friend, frowning. His gold feline eyes were large, with dark obsidian oval pupils. His spiky fur was deep, dark fiery red, but the roots, along with his oversized paws and ears, were black. He was much larger than normal cats, but that was okay –other than when he was sitting on me, of course –since he wasn't necessarily normal.
Werecats weren't, after all.
He finally got off me, and I sat up, taking care not to let the rose thorns pull my carefully braided hair.
What have I told you? He asked me, glaring. If cats can glare. Which they probably can.
I rolled my eyes. I need to use my gift of speaking mind to mind, because somehow I can do it without thinking. I need to practice.
You have a gift! Murgatroyd growled. A very important gift. He stared at you seriously. More important than you know.
I gathered my skirt around myself. How can it be important? I asked him. I don't do anything important. I stared at my hands."I don't even leave the manor," I mumbled. "Just for short excursions to the north when I beg especially hard and that one trip to Tierm when I was ten!"
His ears twitched as he watched stoically.
"What?" I asked.
That may change soon, he said seriously. I didn't have a chance to respond before he melted into the shrubbery again.
"Aeneid Antigone Aithne Angharad Arianwyn Mahret Maeve Fior," her mother said, "Put down that infernal weapon and come to the table this instant!"
I would never cease to be amazed just how easily all eight of my names rolled off my mother's tongue. I was doing well if I just remembered them all, much less said them in less than one minute. Rolling my eyes, I put my practice weapon down and gathered my skirts, following her down the hall. "Mother, why are you putting up such a fuss?" I asked, hurrying to keep up with her.
"Your grandfather is here for dinner," the Lady Eleanor said, her mouth pinched.
Oh, dear. My mother's father was a very grumpy, stuffy, angry, old man, who was very devoted to the King. My family bordered on respectful obedience. It was a tense subject, since our manor sat only a league from Uru'baen. "Lovely," I mumbled.
"Please be polite," she asked me. "He's going to ask some hard things, but –" she took my hands " –we've got to stay strong."
"Mother?" I asked, confused.
"Oh, Aeneid…" she whispered, touching my cheek. "You'll always be my little baby, but you're almost a grown woman now. He'll want to talk about marriage."
Shock hit me. "I'm not ready for that!"
Her mouth frowned. "I know. We'll see how it goes."
Two hours later, and it wasn't going well. Not at all. The conversation had gotten rather heated.
"Aeneid doesn't need to go to court!" mother insisted. "Father, plenty of girls make fine matches without it."
"Not ladies," he grandfather growled. "Not any great matches. My granddaughter will come out and be presented to the court, where she will find a fine husband and carry on the line." His gray eyes flashed sharply under his white hair, combed immaculately. Rings flashed on his hands as he waved them back and forth to make his point.
"But I don't want to marry!" I objected. "I'm not even eighteen."
He scowled at me. "You, young lady, do not get a say."
"Why not?" I objected. "It's my future."
"You are not equipped to control your own fate as of yet," he said, "so more learned people shall do it for you."
"So I can't control my own fate but I can marry?" I asked. "That makes no sense, grandfather." I was trying hard to hold onto my temper.
"Your husband will decide your fate," my grandfather said, getting testy.
"But, Father," my mother interjected. "Aeneid has plenty of time to come out. What is this rush for?"
"If no one knows of her, then she will get no offers, Eleanor. Then she will be a spinster and what shall you do then?" he demanded. "You've had her shut up here for all her life; no one has seen her face!"
Plenty of people have seen my face. The guardsmen I spar with, the stable boys whom I coax into teaching me about horses, father's old falconer, who lets me help him with the hawks, the servants… lots of people! And that's not even counting mother and grandfather and Murgatroyd. Why would I want to show my face to the world, anyway? It wasn't that remarkable.
"It's quite early to talk of spinsters, father," mother said. "And really…the court… it's no place for a sheltered child like Aeneid."
I'm not a child, I thought, but I didn't say it. I had no desire to go to that court, because mother told me of the things that go on there –raucous parties, gaming, dueling (which I wouldn't mind much), smooth talking lords who entice unmarried ladies to their beds and leave them without honor (which I would mind very much, but no one would get the chance because I'd skewer him first), and who knows what else.
"She's been so sheltered because you haven't let her out!" Grandfather pounded the table. "My word is law in this family, and I say that Aeneid will come to the ball being held next week and be presented! Hang your protestations, Eleanor!" he growled at mother, who had opened her mouth to object.
"I shan't!" I exclaimed, jumping up from my place at the table. "You cannot make me go!"
"You silly, spoiled girl!" he yelled. "You will do what I say and that is final! If your mother had grown a backbone and raised you properly, or better yet, had not married that weak man, you would have turned out better. You are a willful and selfish, stubborn child!"
"And you are an old man who only cares about himself and his standing with the King and court, and that makes you a fool!" I shouted, and with that, an air of finality and heavy omen settled on the room.
Mother looked about to faint from my outburst, and my grandfather was so full of rage he could hardly speak for sputtering. I took that chance to run out of the room, my cheeks suddenly hot and my hands icy cold. How could I have said that, right to his face?
I dashed up the stairs to my room, flopping onto my bed and burying my face in my hands. I felt awful.
A body jumped up on my bed, and I rolled over to stare into Murgatroyd's eyes. "Oh, what did I do?" I moaned. "I didn't mean –"
Yes, you did, he said.
I stared at him, my eyes watery. What are you talking about? Everything I said, it was like I just –
Like you just summed up his whole personhood in a sentence, Murgatroyd said seriously. It's time to explain some things to you, Aeneid.
That didn't sound very good.