The Dynasty Of The Twin Queens
Chapter One ~ My Queen
Bradford Kahikilani Makaoi Makoola placed his calloused and brutally scarred right hand, curled into a white knuckled fist, over his erratically thumping heart, and slowly lowered himself down onto his right knee. With his bowed head, inky black hair shadowing his breathtakingly hazel eyes, Brady had become the epitome of mysteriousness.
"My Queen," the title rolled off his tongue like sweet tasting water and had the saver of preciously rare gemstones: unique in find and infeasible for mortals to attain. "I, Captain Makoola of the Kinkowin Royal Guard, am here to escort you home,"
The woman in front of him was the embodiment of ethereal beauty. Possessing hair the color of unmarred bark that served as the skin of the countless trees of his country, cascaded down her back, held straight by a spine made up of a diamond edge, in thick, luscious curls that seemed to wave the length of her body.
Her eyes, a striking mahogany that rivaled the darkness of her hair, he compared to the twinkling stars that dotted the expanse of the midnight skies, were ringed with gold around her pupils - a clear sign that royal blood ran thickly through his veins. Framing her eyes were charcoal shaded and delicately lengthened eyelashes that would brush against her sun-kissed cheeks.
A pleasant blush dusted her freckled cheeks and led to tempting thoughts that Brady was desperately trying to stomp down.
A white peasant skirt which covered her muscular, deeply tanned thighs, brushing against the hollow of her ankle, stroked against the top of his polished combat books, as they stood just mere inches apart, drew his attention away from the green and white checkered tiles that lined the floor of the girls' locker room.
Yellow lockers lined a brick, gray colored wall with chipping paint and one could see the rust beginning to form around the outer edges around the metal compartments. Three bathroom stalls, covered in a tacky purple color, were pushed to the furthest corner of the already cramped room, and the faucet on the dirt stained porcelain, was covered in mold and he had no doubt that the water itself probably stunk.
His Queens were attempting education, a rarity in Kinkow, in such a disgusting place? It was utterly disgraceful and unforgivable. Schooling was considered to be the most precious gift in the Islands of Kinkow, and scholars were often honored as possessing one of the most important jobs - sometimes holding more weight than the monarchs, themselves - and were often some of the most respected people.
A school was an expensive thing to build, and planning could take years to complete. As such, all children, peasants or royals, were frequently not allowed to attend school due to there being a lack of teachers, who were adequately skilled enough to teach the future of Kinkow. Therefore, teachers were not only honored and respected, many were on the brink of worshiping them as if they were Gods of the old.
Suddenly a horrid smell invaded his nostrils and Brady fought the urge to let his hand cover the burning extension of his body, or resulting in him looking like a fool in front of his newly realized Queen. He coughed in hopes of covering the sound of disgust that came close to escaping his mouth - he thought that maybe it was his vomit - and hoped that his Queen did not notice.
'Honestly,' Brady thought. 'Have these people never thought to clean this building? This is perhaps the most disgusting place that I have ever been," he paused, and then as an afterthought. 'And here I am, Captain Makoola of the Kinkowan Royal Guard, kneeling on this repulsing floor while speaking to my Queen,'
"This place is repulsive," he murmured.
"I know," a soft voice replied; like the chiming of recently tuned golden bell that had been rung by only purest of hands. "It is quite dirty,"
Brady's head snapped up to look into the doe sized eyes of his Queen, and felt the urge to duck back down; hopefully showing that he only thought of her with the utmost reverence, much like a goddess.
"My Queen," he managed to get out. "I apologize for speaking out of term. Please forgive me, Your Majesty," Brady easily went back into a submissive position. "Please, if you feel that it must be done, punish me the fullest extent of your justice,"
Gentle fingers attached to a bronzed hand, free of blemishes and any impurities, cupped his chin, and elevated his head back into its previous position, a kind smile pulled at her pink rose lips with white teeth gleaming like freshly fallen snow, Brady finally saw the depths of the dark pools that were his Queen's eyes.
"May I ask you a question?" His Queen spoke, ever polite like a true monarch that had been formally trained in the way of etiquette since she could walk.
Brady was shell shocked by his Queen asking for permission. "My Queen," he was flabbergasted. "You never need to ask for anything. You are a Queen, Your Majesty, you rule with divine rights gifted to you by the Gods of Old."
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes, My Lady," he exasperated.
"Why do you call me 'Queen'? I don't not know of a country that I have any claims to," she shrugged her shoulders, as if this was just another normal day. "Could you please explain to me your reasoning?"
"My Queen," he began. "You, alongside Queen Rebecca, are the Queens of Legend; the heroes of prophecy that are thought to be able to vanquish all the evils on the Isles of Kinkow," he paused to make sure she understood. "You, MiKayla Kahealani Leialoha Tangi Haoa, are the rightful Queen of the Isles of Kinkow. As I said before, Your Majesty, I, Captain Makoola, am here to bring you home. My, our, home needs you to return before we fall into eternal darkness,"
"I see," His Queen replied, her eyes sliding closed. "Well this has certainly been an interesting day," she paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. "To say the least that is,"
Then with a dramatic flourish, that only a Queen can apparently due, the heir apparent to the Throne of Kinkow, one of the two Queens of Destiny, a savior to her country, she who would banish all the evil that posed to great of a threat, dropped like a sack of potatoes.
"My Queen!" Brady yelped.
He dove for the Queen and managed to catch her head before it connected with the hard ground, covered in many unknown substances that he did not want to think about, and thankfully sparing her from a concussion. His knees thumped onto the ground hard, he was certain he heard something crack, and MiKayla's limp body collapsed onto his folded legs. With the added weight of his Queen and the awkward way he had landed, Brady was positive that he would be nursing some blossoming bruises across his legs, and maybe even some fractures - oh, wouldn't that be fun to explain to his father.
"Oh, wonderful," Brady said, sarcasm dripping from his tone like venom from a snake's fangs. "My Queen," he began to pat her cheek, in hopes of waking her up. "You need to wake up. Please, Queen MiKayla, before someone sees how odd this is and calls the local authorities,"
When he received no answer, Brady simply groaned in response.