A/N: Helloooo! I'm so so so sorry about not updating in like, I dont even know how long, but a LOT has happened and I've been super busy, along with dealing with a mild case of writers block. So second year of university is starting and I'm working so updates are most likely going to be further apart. I dont want to rush it though, so it's not shitty. But I finally got this chapter finished, so Im not going to keep it from you any longer.
-B
Fourth Age, October, 728:
You adjust your belt around your waist, and slide your sword into its place while glancing through your lashes, taking in the large room. You grimace at the pink covering the walls, and turn your attention to the door when one of the ladies, keeping the palace clean, walks in.
You freeze as does she, her eyes widened in shock, "Your Highness! My apologies. It has been many years since anyone has occupied this room; I admit I've become accustomed to letting myself in without knocking." She quickly explains before moving to leave.
"It's quite alright…" you say, stopping her before she leaves, "Melinda, is it?" you question with a tiny smile. The older lady straightens and smiles, offering a slight bow.
"You remembered, Your Highness?"
"Please, enough with the exaggerated title." You chuckle quietly, turning to your childhood bed, much larger than the one you claim in Rivendell, and stuff your dirty clothes in your satchel. "I abandoned that title long ago."
"You are still our Princess, Your Highness." Melinda pipes in. You glance over your shoulder and nod faintly, stepping back from the bed to look around the room. "You have aged well." You let out a laugh and run a hand through your hair, walking towards the long vanity table with your hair accessories and jewels.
"They've kept everything as I left it?" you ask and glance back at the chamber lady. She nods and you hum softly to yourself, running your fingers over a white jewelry box with diamonds on each corner, gold lacing the edges. Your lips twitch into a faint smile and you open the box, listening to the quiet music play as you pick up a silver necklace with a pink, oval pendant. You gently place it back down after running a finger over the jewel and close the box, cutting off the softly music. "I shouldn't be here."
"Of course you should! You're the –"
"I'm no one's Princess." You cut her off, giving her a pointed look as you turn, leaning back against the vanity before motioning to your attire, "As much as it pains me to admit Ciriaco was right, I am more like a commoner than royalty."
Melinda tilts her head with a sympathetic look and moves further into the room, holding her hands in front of her, "I am a commoner, Your Highness. You may have left the kingdom but your blood is still royal."
You look at her and she smiles sweetly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as the centers twinkle.
"Blood means little to nothing." You tell her, "Love is what ties people together; and blood does not equal love. Besides, I never claimed being common is a bad thing. I prefer it, to be quite honest."
Melinda clicks her tongue and you grin, "You should get ready for your dinner, Your Highness."
"I am ready." You arch a brow and watch the chamber maids smile falter into a frown, causing your grin to grow. "I'll leave you alone." You say quietly, chuckling when she continues to look over your choice of clothing as you move passed her.
You slowly walk down the hallway that, at the end, opens into a large dining area, and slow even further when your eyes land on your biological family sitting at the table. Flashbacks of you as a young child run through your head. You see yourself running in little dresses, climbing onto the chair and being scolded by Santiago and Maribel. How Ciriaco constantly glared at you like he hated your existence. Dorotea keeping out of it and ignoring everything altogether.
You clench your jaw and wet your lips before continuing towards the long, dark wood table, Santiago and Maribel on opposite ends with Ciriaco to Santiago's direct right, and Dorotea and her family closer to Maribel.
There is a lone plate across your siblings, two empty seats on either side. You stop behind the chair and look at Santiago, only taking a seat when he nods for you to do so.
"We are so very glad to have you join us, Mija."
You tense at the term of endearment and glance across the table at Dorotea's husband, who offers you a tight lipped smile, and look at Maribel. You bite your tongue, not wanting to start anything, and let out a sigh, looking towards the doors that open to the kitchen. The help walks out, backs straight and heads held high, holding trays of food.
You watch them place the food down the middle of the table before each helper takes their place beside a member of the family, dishing up their preferred food items.
"Watch yourself and give me the duck." Ciriaco orders, lifting his chalice for wine. You narrow your eyes at him when he snaps at his server for not working quickly enough, and do a double take when you feel a body next to you.
The young man fidgets by your side, waiting for your instructions. You offer a smile and shake your head, "I'm fine. You can go." You say and, in return, are given a puzzled look as the room goes silent.
"In all due respect, Your Highness, it is my duty to assist you." He says quietly and you nod before chuckling and shaking your head.
"I am more than capable of dishing up my own dinner."
"Santana." The young man tenses and you slowly look towards Santiago, his eyes narrowed at you, "Let the help do his duty."
You hold his challenging gaze, and clench our jaw after a moment, glancing at the young man before nodding faintly. He relaxes and smiles, looking at the food before back at you.
"The duck and potato will do." You tell him gently. He nods and dishes your plate, setting it in front of you before filling your chalice halfway with wine. "Thank you." You smile and he lifts his brows in surprise. "You can go now." You chuckle quietly and he glances around the table before smiling at you and nodding.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
You hum in response and watch him turn from the table before taking a breath and lifting your chalice to your lips.
"You truly have become a commoner."
You pause from lowering your drink and tilt your head at Ciriaco as he smirks across the table at you. "You thank those whose duty it is to serve us?" he asks with a laugh, shaking his head at the idea while you place your chalice down on the table. "It's pathetic." He says, his laughter subsiding until he's staring at you with pity, "You…are pathetic."
"Ciriaco—"
"I'm pathetic because I'm polite?" you laugh in disbelief, scowling at him when he nods, "I believe it's called having manners. One would think that a royal would have them. It's quite clear that you don't."
"What would you know about being a royal? You ran when you were a child. Sick of being a constant disappointment. So you ran. To where exactly? That, I will admit, is something I've always wondered."
You clench your jaw, narrowing your eyes into a glare and Ciriaco's smirk grows.
"Where I've been is none of your concern."
"So you're ashamed then."
"I am most certainly not ashamed of that. I'm ashamed I was born into this twisted family. That I have the blood of killers and dishonorable men running through my veins. Yes, I am very much ashamed of that." You spit, your hands clenched into fists, "I'm ashamed that you, my so called family, cared not one bit about me while I was here, and that even when I left, benefitting all of us, that I had assassins sent after me. Apparently leaving wasn't good enough, and so my own parents wished me dead." Your glare turns to Maribel staring at you with her mouth open, and eyes wide. You look at Santiago, his brow furrowed as he keeps his cool eyes on you.
"Assassins?" Dorotea speaks up, her tone laces with surprise. You drop your cutlery and push away from the table, getting to your feet.
"I don't know why that had even surprised me." You say, holding your hands out to the sides, everyone staring at you, "Especially now, knowing how this family is completely corrupted. That the blood is soiled and rotted."
"How dare you speak of your kin in such a way!" Santiago erupts and you turn to him, taking in his frenzied gaze and clenched jaw; fists clenched and resting on the table.
"How dare I?" you ask incredulously, "How dare you!" you shout, pointing at him, "You act as if you have a right to be sitting on that throne when we all know that your ancestors took it from under the rightful king, years ago! You killed a man and his family for power and turned the Elven people against not only this family but our entire race. You hurt them. You hurt my people!"
"Your people?" Maribel asks quickly and you take a shaky step back, paling as you realize what you just let slip.
"You stayed with the elves." Ciriaco snarls, launching to his feet. His chair crashes against the ground and you watch him as he storms around the table and Santiago. "You are an embarrassment to this family." He hisses, unsheathing his sword as he advances on you. Your hand instantly moves to the hilt of your own and you inwardly thank the Maker you trusted your instincts to bring it down with you. "I can assure you that it was not this family who sent anyone after you, but at this moment, I wish they were competent enough to get the job done." He finishes while swinging at you with his sword.
Maribel and Dorotea's calls to stop fall upon deaf ears as you lift your sword to block your brother's, and you knock it away, shoving him backwards. He stumbles over his feet, casting you a hard glance as you twirl you sword easily, taking in his unsteady stance.
"Santana, Ciriaco, I demand you stop this at once!" Santiago orders, getting to his feet while you deflect another one of your brother's attacks.
"She needs to learn her place!" Ciriaco says through gritted teeth.
You narrow your eyes faintly and side step his incoming swipe, turning to end up behind him. You bring your sword down, slapping the flat end of your sword against his lower back. He catches himself before he trips, and you circle him quickly and easily, swiping your foot under his; forcing him to kneel.
You hold your ground in front of him, resting your sword on his shoulder as he slowly lifts his gaze, his sword clattering to the floor next to you. You take in a breath, watching him clench and unclench his jaw while he breathes heavily through his nose, narrowing his eyes at you. You watch the swarm of emotions in his eyes, making out the confusion and faint evidence of something relating…pride?
You hold his stare for a few moments longer before turning your focus to your father, returning your sword to it's place on your hip.
"I came here for one reason. To warn you that there will be a war soon to come."
"If that is true, we would have gotten word of it–"
"And who, exactly, beyond these walls do you think cares enough to do so?" you ask, quickly cutting Santiago off. He straightens his back and you kick Ciriaco's sword over to him, taking a few steps back to let him rise. "The race of men were once on their own, before a man brought all together to stand against an evil. Our bloodline murdered that man, breaking that alliance. Breaking that trust. Who would want to stand with you?" You shrug, resting your hands on your hips as you glance from Ciriaco moving to stand beside your father, to you Maribel and Dorotea.
You let out a sigh and run a hand through your hair, offering a faint smile to the small boy hiding his body behind his mother, smiling shyly at you.
"Rivendell and Mirkwood are joining forces to stop the army from destroying their homes, and I will be fighting alongside them. I advise you to rethink your decision and try to make peace with Irenaeus before the war begins." You tell Santiago before turning and heading out of the dining hall.
You lift your head quickly from rearranging your satchel, and glance from Dorotea poking her head in the room, to the two children pushing their way into the room.
"I'm sorry." Dorotea smiles, looking at her children before you, "I was hoping we could have a small chat?"
You study her before glancing back at the children, having placed themselves on the soft rug in the middle of your room, playing with wooden animals.
You shakes your head faintly at yourself and return your attention to your things, "Isn't this something? For once it's you trying to have a conversation while I stand determined to act like you don't exist." You mumble coldly, shoving one of your shirts into your bag.
"Hermana, please –"
"Don't you dare!" you hiss quietly, mindful of the children playing quietly, and shoot her an incredulous look. "You have no right to use that title when addressing me. I have a sister, and you are not her."
Dorotea nods stiffly and wipes her hands on the skirt of her dress, clasping her hands together as she glances around the room. You tie your bag closed and look around for anything else you need to bring, and glance at Dorotea, sighing at your weakness as you face her and cross your arms.
"What do you want?"
You watch her gaze turn hopeful and arch a brow at her for her to hurry up. She nods quickly in understanding and takes a few hesitant steps to your bed, holding a hand out, asking for permission to sit. You nod, stepping back, and lean against one of the columns.
"I was hoping I could clear a few things up."
"So mother sent you in here to apologize for father and Ciriaco." You scoff lightly, shaking your head.
"No, of course not." She says with a frown, "I haven't spoken to father about this evening, nor have I spoken to Ciriaco. At all today actually. Mother, on the other hand…she understands that you most likely do not wish to speak with her and is hoping that you'll listen to me."
"Listen to you about what exactly? What are you going to try and sway me towards?"
"Well for one, we did not send anyone after you with the intention of killing you." She states firmly and you let out a small laugh, nodding in disbelief. "Santana, you're our blood. Why on earth would you think that we sent someone to hurt you?"
"Seeing as you couldn't do it yourselves, sending someone seemed like the most logical solution."
"You're their daughter."
"The daughter they didn't want!" you whisper loudly, both you and Dorotea glancing at the children. "I was an unwanted accident."
"You were an accident, yes. That doesn't make you unwanted."
"No, but the way I was treated proves as much."
"Santana, I'm not going to sit here and waste both of our time trying to convince you that you are loved and that the family didn't know how to show it –"
"Great. So can we get on to why you are here?"
Dorotea huffs and shifts, crossing her legs.
"When I found out I was pregnant, it was only a few days after you left. It gave everyone something to focus on rather than what had happened." You withhold an eye roll and shift, nodding for her to continue, "Everything was wonderful. For me anyway. Until Pablo was born."
"I'm not following."
"No, no, I was crying tears of joy when he was born, but what I realized then, was that you weren't going to meet him. And he wasn't going to meet you. The same with Isabella." She says. You lift your brows and she smiles faintly. "Mijo, Mija, would you come here for a moment?" she calls softly, holding her hands out to the children now looking at the two of you. Pablo jumps to his feet and Isabella pushes herself up, following her older brother over to their mother and you. "Santana, this is Pablo and Isabella. Lo, Bella, this is your aunt. Tu Tia."
You take in a sharp breath as you two sets of big brown eyes look at you, twinkling with excitement, and offer a shy smile.
"Hi…" you greet awkwardly.
"Hi!" Pablo beams. Isabella tucks her hands under her arms, curling into Dorotea as she smiles sweetly at you. "Can we play now, Mama?" he asks, looking up at is mother. She nods with a chuckle and Pablo slides off her lap, waiting for Isabella to be set down, before pulling her over to the toys. You smile faintly as you watch him help her sit down and hand her the wooden horse, and look at Dorotea.
"They're beautiful."
"Thank you." She smiles faintly, tucking hair behind her ear. You watch the two for a few minutes before Dorotea clears her throat softly, lifting her brows faintly when you look at her. "You know about the Fellowship?"
You offer a hesitant nod and she winces.
"Believe it or not, I reacted the exact same way you are now when I found out."
"Dorotea, I don't want to get into –"
"Please, hear me out." She begs and you sigh, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Okay."
She nods and turns to face you more, lowering her voice, "Papi is the rightful King."
"Ugh, Tea, really?" you shake your head, moving to get up, but a hand on your shoulder brings you back down.
"You agreed to hear me out." She says and you shake your head, "If when I'm finished you still feel te way you do now, then fine, but let me tell you our side fo the story."
You clench your jaw and she takes that as you agreeing, nodding to herself.
"The story of the Fellowship of the Ring is true. Aragorn, Legolas, Frodo. They were all real. Aragorn reclaimed the throne and Frodo destroyed the ring, but no one knows the other story. The one that happened in the background."
"Santana, the throne of Gondor is rightfully ours. Argonui, Aragorn's great grandfather, had a son with another woman before Argonui even met Aragorn's great grandmother. Arador, Aragorn's grandfather had an older brother who the throne rightfully belonged to, but because no one, not even Argonui, knew about his first born, he didn't have a chance to fight for it. 8th great grandfather."
"You're trying to convince me that our great, great, great –"
"That our eighth great grandfather was the rightful heir to the Gondor throne, yes." She says and you shake your head, giving her a pointed look.
"That's ridiculous."
"It's the truth. If you keep that in mind while considering the fact that Abuelo, and bisabuelo are still living in the kingdom with us, it's makes perfect sense."
"How does that contribute?"
"Every king to claim the throne lived three times longer than the average human being."
"Yes, because they were Dunedains." You tell her and she just tilts her head forwards slightly, staring at you. You furrow your brows and lean back, "Wait, you're trying to tell me that we're-that I'm a Dunedain?"
"Salvador Lopez was the rightful king to the throne. He passed down those rights with every child born into the family. Idefonso was the rightful king and so he took what was his. I don't agree with how he did it, hurting all those standing with Aragorn and with what he did to his family, but we had no control over that. Because of what our ancestors did, we have to live with everyone believing that we're vicious and steal whatever we want from rightful owners, and so be it. But you are one of us, and what's important is that you know the truth."
You search her eyes for any trace of a lie, and drop your shoulders, "I don't know what to believe."
"Whether you believe me or not, that's up to you, but I wanted to offer you something more than what you already had."
You shake your head and stand up, grabbing your satchel, "I need to head back to home before anything happens." You say quietly and Dorotea nods, getting up as well.
"Of course." She offers a faint smile and you shift, nodding in goodbye before heading to the door.
"You're not staying?"
You look over your shoulder, Isabella standing beside a sitting Pablo, staring up at you with her hands holding the bottom of her dress.
"Uh…I have to go home." You say gently and she nods, shuffling on her tiny feet. You widen your eyes and hold your one hand on the hilt of your sword, the other at your side as you stare at Dorotea smiling faintly.
"See you again." Isabella says, stepping back from hugging you. Pablo jumps up and gives you a quick hug as well and you rest your hand lightly on his back before nodding at the little girl, subconsciously running your hand over Pablo's shaggy hair before realizing what you were doing.
You clear your throat and nod again, stopping from turning when Dorotea calls you, "Yeah?"
"I'm sorry for how we treated you, truly. And I know mother and father are as well, even Ciriaco. Although those men are too damn prideful to admit as much."
You hesitate, a part of you wanting to spend a few more minutes talking with her and the children. But then you think back to Puck and Sam back in Rivendell with Aelfheah and Quinn, and Brittany in Mirkwood, and know you have to go. "I know."
"And I'll talk with father about the war." She chuckles and you smile and nod, glancing at Pablo and Isabella before leaving.
A/N: Let me know what you think about the little reunion. I kinda like Ciriaco though...idk, is that bad? And to clear a few things up, Dorotea is telling the truth, so Santana's family really does hold rights to the throne. Uhhh what else...oh yes, her family did NOT send an assassin after her. The girl was just a little paranoid and read the situation wrong. If you guys have any other questions about what happened in this chapter, dont be afraid to ask.
-B
Next Update: Shit, I don't know. I'll try to get it out sooner but you never know.