The days passed slowly for Cecilia, each identical to the last. Her beauty never faded, but it became an altered beauty; sad, dark, lonely. As she reached the age of twenty seven, she felt her parents' desire for her to marry. Her four siblings were already married or engaged, and she was by no means the youngest.
Though Cecilia knew she would never love again, she also realised that she could not remain unmarried much longer. She was becoming a burden, and in any case it was not appropriate for a member of the Royal family to remain a spinster. She told her parents that she would consent to marry any man they saw fit.
Her parents were confidentially delighted with Cecilia's decision, and began searching for a suitable husband immediately. Only a few weeks after beginning their search, news reached the couple that King Dubhán of Leicothé was in need of a wife.
"It is quite excellent news! He is the perfect husband for Cecilia! His first wife died quite tragically last winter, giving birth to their daughter. Snow White is her name, and they say she is the most beautiful child in Leicothé! She is of course in need of a mother, I told him Cecilia would be a wonderful stepmother; she does love the children of the courtiers so!" Queen Iantha rambled to her husband one summer morning as a maid brushed her long brunette hair.
"Yes, yes, quite excellent," King Bylun replied vaguely, having heard the same anecdote several times.
"I hope our messenger can reach King Dubhán swiftly! I sent him off immediately, but he does seem to take such a long time to travel any distance. Why, just a fortnight ago I sent him to Renieyn, he took almost five days to arrive! That is but three day's journey, even for the slowest horse! He of course insists he rides as speedily as he is able, but I cannot help but suppose he makes a few unnecessary stops along the way-"
"Iantha, do stop your gossiping, I imagine your maid is quite exhausted from that ceaseless babble in her ear. I must meet my Chief War Advisor, but do please try to calm yourself before supper," King Bylun said wearily, closing the intricately carved mahogany door to the magnificent bed chamber.
Queen Iantha paused, her mouth slightly agape, before declaring indignantly "Well, that was quite discourteous! I hardly think that fictitious conjecture was necessary. He has simply no sense-"
The maid rolled her eyes behind Iantha silently. She privately agreed with King Bylun, but of course could not disclose this opinion.
"Oh! My deepest apologies, Your Majesty!" Exclaimed the maid, having brushed Queen Iantha's hair rather roughly, jerking her head back suddenly.
"That is quite alright, no harm done," Queen Iantha said quietly, rubbing the back of her neck, though afterwards spoke only occasionally until the maid had finished dressing her.
"You look wonderful, Your Majesty," The maid said as she finished painting Queen Iantha's lips a deep red.
Queen Iantha nodded wordlessly, and examined her reflection in the large mahogany mirror. The mirror revealed not only Iantha's refined beauty, but the glorious room behind her.
The walls were painted a rich burgundy, with curving floral designs in a darker shade covering every inch of space. Gold coving separated the walls from the masterpiece on the ceiling; an incredible painting of cherubs, angels and all amount of holy deities on a soft white and beige background, each being painted as accurately and meticulously as the last. It had taken the artist many, many years to complete, and had been painted more than one hundred years before the current occupants of the room had been born, but it still held all the intensity and vividness it had on the day the last brush stroke had been made.
The floor was made of the same dark wood as the furniture in the room, and was varnished to perfection. A red carpet rested in middle of the room, leading to the double doors which King Bylun had just exited.
"You may leave me now, Henrietta," Queen Iantha said softly to the maid's reflection.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the maid curtsied and left the room.
Queen Iantha continued to stare into the mirror on her dresser. She pressed her face closer to the glass, rising from her velvet chair until she was close enough to steam the mirror with her breath.
Iantha examined every wrinkle, every blemish and freckle on her aging skin. Even the vast amount of powder the maids used on Iantha's face could not hide the signs of her fifty three years. Her beauty was fading, and Iantha could not help but feel a part of her soul was disappearing with it. A beauty that had been such a large part of her life; a beauty without which she would never have become Queen.
A gentle knock at the door caused Queen Iantha to turn away from the image of loss.
"You may enter," She called to servant standing on the other side. The servant opened the door obediently, and looked to Queen Iantha, who sat at her dressing table, her hands folded carefully in her lap.
"Your Majesty, Talbott has arrived with a message from King Dubhán," The servant told her.
"Oh! Well, send him in immediately!" Queen Iantha replied, her hysterical state once again restored.
The servant bowed and left the room. A few moments later, a brown-haired man with an idle air entered, neglecting to close the door behind him. Queen Iantha ignored this, anxious to hear news from King Dubhán.
Queen Iantha waited for Talbott to speak; however, his mouth remained closed, and his eyes moved lazily around the room.
"Well? What message does His Majesty send?" Said Iantha when she could bear his silence no longer.
"Kind Dubhán sends his warmest regards. He is delighted at the prospect of marrying your most enchanting daughter, and would be honoured to meet the fine lady just as soon as it may be arranged," Talbott recited.
Queen Iantha clapped her hands together and grasped her chest, as though the mere dictation of King Dubhán's words caused her heart to flutter.
"Wonderful! We must invite him to dine at the palace at once! Please head back to Leicothé without delay, and inform His Majesty that we would be most delighted to receive him as our honoured guest on the 21st for our midsummer banquet!"
"Very well, Your Majesty, I shall depart as swiftly as I am physically able," Talbott replied with a sarcastic undertone which Queen Iantha failed to recognise. Talbott bowed and left the room, heading for 'The Blue Phoenix' public house (his promise of a quick departure knowingly ignored).
Queen Iantha was in much higher spirits than she had been before the messenger arrived. Iantha could think of no better news than that King Dubhán may marry Cecilia, her only unwed child. She hoped he was a pleasant man; above all, she wanted her children to be secure and contented. Iantha would have given the entire kingdom to bring Alvern back for Cecilia; but of course she could not, and only hoped King Dubhán could bring back some of the sparkle Iantha had once seen in Cecilia's sapphire eyes. Eyes that now held a sadness which caused Iantha's heart to break each time she looked in them.
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I know, they all have annoying names, right? I don't know what posessed me, except the idea that 'theyz is in da past, LOLZ!'.
Haha, ok, it's not that bad, is it? I mean, at least 'Cecilia' is normal! And be fair, it's better than calling a kid Snow-bloody-White. That's a cat's name.
