The banquet had begun – The feast was laid out upon an enormous number of white-clothed tables. Stuffed pigs, tender venison, colourful jellies, Beer, Wine, Champagne, Vodka, Whisky, Gin… you get the idea.
The hall shone with life: Its contents glinting in the candlelight, appearing as heaven itself would to a weary traveller. The master table was laid in front of the rest, stretching the width of the hall. The other tables were smaller, and all arranged so that the guests could look upon their ruler with awe, which, of course, none of them would. Disdain would be much more of an ample description.
Rose sat at the head of the master table, with her father and mother on either side. (It was best that way, as when forced to sit next to each other, Roland and Cecilia rarely came from the scene without injury.)
Trumpets blared through the air, heralding the arrival of their guests from the neighbouring seventh kingdom. Isaac held his twelve-year-old son firmly in front of him, and they walked ceremoniously down the cascade of white stone steps.
Rose looked on with horror. This was he, the boy she was to marry? Eew.
Roland and Cecilia stood to greet their guests, urging Rose to follow suit. She stood with her arms folded, a scowl on her flawless face. Looking from Rose to John, they saw that he mirrored her exact stance; he stood with his arms tight across his chest, sending a steady stare of hatred and revulsion in Rose's general direction.
Roland looked from his daughter to John. This will not do. He told himself dryly. He walked to meet Isaac, and shook his hand, motioning for him to sit. Then, taking John firmly by the hand, he bid the Prince sit next to his daughter, in his royal throne.
The people gathered looked upon the scene in astonishment. The King had gone mad. Offering his throne to the son of another king? No such scene had been seen in the sixth kingdom since King Throbold the fifth ruled. The main reason being that King Throbold the fifth was quite, quite insane.
He had been known to endorse a series of practices, which mainly involved tying yourself to a horse and carriage, and allowing the carriage to drag you along the streets, usually resulting in the removal of a few layers of skin. Throbold had often been seen doing such things through the pebbled streets of the sixth kingdom, shouting "Hoo-yah!" as he lost the majority of his hair.
Throbold had died a horrific death at the local wigmaker shop, which involved a rather nasty incident with an overheated hairdryer, a hot glue gun, and a month's worth of horsehide.
The main thought that passed through the people's minds at this point was "Not again."
Roland held his hands high in the air, and clapped them together thrice. The noise echoed throughout the banquet hall, and, as soon as silence fell, trays laden with yet more sumptuous dainties were brought out in procession. They filed through the tables, and were placed at the centres. The guests dug in with ravenous appetite, having already consumed the greater part of the alcohol.
Music chimed through the hall, sending waves of romance blossoming in the heart of each present. Even Rose had by now begun to strike up some kind of conversation with the Prince John.
"Do you like horsies?"
John scowled. "Only when I can ride them when going hunting." For a boy who was betrothed to this delicate beauty to-be, he was giving all the wrong signals.
Rose looked away and bit her lip, resulting in an immediate tap on her hand from her mother. Don't bite your lip. She always said. Or the fairies will come and take you away.
The actual thought of being taken away by fairies quite appealed to Rose, but had she known the truth about fairies, she would not have thought so happily about dancing on the moonshine rays, singing joyfully with three elegant beauties.
When the ravenous beasts of the sixth kingdom had devoured all the food, Roland stood and raised his glass. The guests cheered, as they knew this was yet another excuse for getting drunk.
"My loyal subjects," (Yet more cheers from the crowd) "I have an important and delightful announcement to make." (Much gurgling heard from the drunken lout in the corner.)
"My daughter, the princess Rose, is to wed the Prince of the seventh kingdom, Prince John, upon the eve of midsummer when she is come of age." (Much draining of glasses was now to be seen) "WAIT! I'm not finished." (Groans.)
"Upon this most happy of occasions, I would like to welcome Prince John, and indeed his father King Isaac, to the sixth kingdom, and hope that they enjoy their stay. Cheers."
Just as the gathered masses were about to drain the remainder of their drinks, the doors flew open, and a witch, dressed in gossamer white cotton, and silver wreaths of leaves, entered the hall. When she spoke her voice was silken, her tone gentle. She approached the princess.
Rose looked with terror. This was a witch. She'd heard bad things about witches, and wanted nothing to do with them. She turned her face away as the witch came closer. Roland demanded to know her name, and her business.
"I am the witch of the summer, I come with a message for your daughter." She stood next to Rose, and began to speak softly to her. None but the occupants of the master table could hear.
"My child, the future for you is bleak. You will indeed grow to be a fair maiden, silken of voice, and beautiful as the summer flowers, but upon the eve of your wedding day, you will prick your finger on a spinning wheel, and you shall die."
Upon hearing these words, Cecilia promptly fainted, as Roland fought to get nearer to the witch. "You cursed her you fiend!"
"I did no such thing. I have foreseen the future, I have no part to play in it." She turned to Rose once more, and held the young girl's chin softly, turning her face so that she may look upon her. "I will protect you when the time comes my child, believe in my loyalty, and you will yet live."
As she departed swiftly, all averted their eyes for fear that they too should be cursed, and a life without alcohol or food was the most common curse (and, of course, the most frightening) that any could think of.
Rose sat open-mouthed, staring after the witch. The prince John continued stabbing the table with his meat knife, as he had done throughout the whole event. Isaac rose, and bid Roland to follow him to the shadows of the hall.