Disclaimer: I own nothing of C. 's
Of Sisters & Butcher's Boys
My sister was so beautiful. So graceful and poise. So beautifully sculpted and curved. I admit, when I was only a few years younger I would sit and watch her and think jealous thoughts about how much I'd like to pull the perfect hair, scratch that perfect face, and get those perfect nails full of dirt and grime. She was only a couple years my senior and her nineteenth birthday had just passed. On that day our father had gifted her with an engagement. A wedding engagement, if you were thinking other. To a king, no less! Our father was no king, but he was a lord, and rich, oh my, very rich. I had never been wanting. Always my life had been at the height of perfection and food and riches and food and horses and food and-oh listen to me talking about myself when this is about my sister. Everything was about my sister…
This king, who was to be my brother-in-law, was one of two kings ruling the same land, along with two queens who were also their sisters. I had never heard anything like it and it was just about as utterly confusing as a thing could be. You know the story, don't you? Of course you do. Everyone does. I had heard it so many times it could almost be used as a torture treatment on me now.
This land was not far…well, compared to most it was not far. Only a two week's journey, or so I was told. My father had made it many times since the coronation of the confusing two kings and two queens, for he had hoped to one day pawn off one of his daughters to one of those boys and now he finally had what he wanted. Well dang, I say. I had never liked my father. No one could ever be as rich as he and still be kind and giving and gentle, but he didn't even get as far as decent. The butcher's boy had even told me that there were rumors about the city that he had been the one who murdered my mother by drowning her in the river, just before my seventh birthday. I had been mad at him for saying such dreadful things at the time, but I really liked that butcher's boy. Handsome of course, and kind as any man could be. When I was thirteen I had secretly vowed to marry him one day, even though I knew he would probably, and completely understandably, only ever want me for my quite notable dowry. I was such a scraggly, homely child. I spoke too quietly most of the time, and the rest of it was spent shouting in a most unladylike manner. I had ruined countless pairs of slippers and sandals, and many gowns, romping about when I was younger. I was known for always having at least a little mud on me. My hair was so soft and fine that it tangled maddeningly easily, and I usually just had it tied back without even bothering to brush through its painful knots. Governesses had long since given up on me, and my last one left not quite five years ago, when I was twelve. The maids despaired, and even the manservants tended to look on with strained grimaces.
I like to say that I had grown tamer since those days. Now that I was approaching my eighteenth year I was taking more care to be the young lady I should; the young lady that my sister had been her whole life. My scraggly little arms and legs had filled out nicely, and I wore elegant, shape-fitting dresses, brushed out my long, light-brown hair in a tidy braid down my back, kept my pace to a walk…indoors, at least, and focused more on my embroidery and harp, rather than horses and wooden swords. I was fairly certain that my father intended to take advantage of my sister's engagement to king by pawning me off to the first high bidder with a title, and surprisingly, I had no qualms with this. I had no fantasy of true love or real happiness. As far as I knew, I was already happy and perfectly content, so long as I had a horse to escape on, should ever the need arise, and food.
In my opinion, it should be the groom's duty to travel the distance to his bride's home, and not the reverse. It was downright ungentlemanly of him! I was told that he was a king and so therefore it would be below station for him to travel to his wedding, but I was still rather put-out at the prospect of two weeks in a stuffy carriage with only my sister for companionship. At least our father had his own private carriage, and I was glad. I never liked being any less than five feet away from him. Strange, I know, but he gave me such an odd, insecure, just downright awkward feeling.
"Do you think Her Majesty, Queen Susan, will be more beautiful than I?" I stopped staring forlornly out of the carriage and turned to give my sister a look which said many things, none of which should ever be written. Ignoring my glance, she raised her eyebrows slightly, awaiting an answer.
"No." I had to be honest. My sister was beyond stunning. She was a little proud, and a little vain, but also kind-hearted and gentle and that always makes everyone even more beautiful.
She beamed at me and leaned forward slightly, clasping her jeweled hands. "I want you to find a husband for yourself while we're at the Cair," she said softly. "I want to make sure you're out of Father's charge as soon as possible."
"You shouldn't say such things. Someone could hear and tell him," I whispered back, but I felt a quick warmth and appreciation for my sister in that moment. "You know, there are two kings, after all." I gave her a mischievious look and she raised an eyebrow and chuckled.
"His Majesty, High King Peter, is your senior by seven years," she said. "And I will be marrying His Majesty, King Edmund."
"I was only kidding, Lorelle." I sighed and turned back to the leather flaps which covered the windows. "Is King Edmund handsome, you think?"
"I hear he is a bit of a brooder," she replied, "but, yes, also that he is quietly striking to the eye. Actually…" she leaned even further forward and lowered her voice, giving me a wink and a mischievous grin, "I heard that women fall at his feet and fight for him during balls and galas, and that he trains with his sword three hours a day. Oh the strain those arms must take." She looked like a little girl for a moment, exclaiming over a pretty doll on display at a fair. "Honestly, Wren, there is talk that his looks far surpass even that of Queen Susan's! Oh and the Cair. Have you heard Father's stories about the beauty of the Cair? The great Hall with all its dazzles and chandeliers, and bedchambers with ten rooms! It shall be beyond magnificent! Oh this is all too exciting now. I shall never sleep these two weeks!"