My family was one of the most cherished rulers of Kyrria.
When my grandparents decided that their rule was no longer needed and that their health was preventing them from doing so, they handed down the reins to my family.
Nobody thought that they were making a mistake.
Father was just and courageous. No one was above the law in his kingdom. Everybody was treated fairly. Rebellion never broke out in any part of Kyrria. War never happened. There were those who criticized his decisions, but then, what would a kingdom be without skeptics? Though there were, they themselves trusted their lives to my father. They ridiculed but it was for the better. Everybody actually prayed that he would live long or maybe that my brother would be like him.
Mother was charming and witty. She could always make people laugh with her contrariness. She was not the perfect lady who could sweep graceful curtsies and speak in a soft pretty voice. There was this spark inside my mother that made her stand out. Her inner child was present at appropriate times, ready to make us all laugh and be entertained. Some ladies disapproved of her behavior though, mainly because she did not fit their standards for queen. If being queen meant that she should stay in one place, just praying for the kingdom's safety, then my mother was no queen. She was herself, queen or no, and she didn't care if anybody cared.
My older brother, Owen, who was now nineteen, followed Father's footsteps. He was not in the castle at the moment. He was going around Kyrria, fighting ogres and finding out what's wrong with the projects that our father initiated. He was just like him: just and courageous. He was courteous and handsome. He could make any lady fall for him in a day, and it did happen, but he never really paid attention to romance. Once I told him, "It will hit you in the head without you knowing." And he laughed, saying that he would know because he was the one who would hit himself with it.
As I said, my family was one of the most cherished rulers of Kyrria.
But that was just for my father, mother, and brother. What about the youngest daughter? Catleya?
I doubted that someone really cared about my existence. I was not the heir, unlike my brother. I could not rule now, unlike my father. I was not special and inspiring, unlike my mother. Who was I in a family of great sovereigns? Plain Catleya, that was what I was. No one really called me that. It was a self-implemented title. I was not extraordinary unlike my mother. I got her rebelliousness, yes, but it was more of an impediment rather than charming trait. Contrariness was one of my traits from Mother but my words could be so tactless and insulting, not the words my mother used to make people smile. Wit was also one but sometimes I thought so deep and profound that no one really understood the wit in my statement.
I could say I was intelligent. I read books for most of the time. My room could be the library. Owen was also clever and I often challenged him with impertinent questions. We always end up debating about a certain issue, much to my parents' delight. They believed it was a step to social awareness, a very important trait for ruling. But my intelligence was limited to text. I knew about many lessons and I could defy a scholar but it wasn't enough. Owen, on the other hand, was different. He was knowledgeable and he used his knowledge to the extent. He applied his wisdom for Kyrria. Compared to him, I was a selfish brat who wouldn't even dare try to teach a fool.
If my mother was not the perfect lady, then I might be the girl nearest to being one. I was graceful when dancing, and my singing was not that out of tune. My voice was modulated but it wasn't boisterous and maddening. But then, it was only through performance and besides, dressing up and making yourself fair was not one of my interests. A lady was supposed to be docile and timid, while I was assertive and defiant.
People knew me through two traits that I was not proud of.
Rebelliousness and Beauty.
They say that I was a fairy but I wasn't. Some people called me the Flower of Kyrria, mainly because of my name. They say that my beauty rivaled the beauty of Queen Vanessa of Ayortha. They say that my green eyes were expressive and soulful. I did have admirers, and they all adored me. They say many things to me, everything good. They all want to seek my heart. But why? These men hardly knew me and now they were pouring their hearts and souls to me when they've only just seen my face and have not heard my words. Their praises were tiring and I wished them all ill from the bottom of my soul. They only see my face, and not my mind or heart or soul.
But when I looked into a mirror I did not see the beautiful young girl, as people had gossiped about, yet a girl who could not reach the expectations set by her own family.
Who was I next to such great people?
Was I overshadowed by those who love me?
Could I be more than just Catleya, a pretty face in the castle of Kyrria?
I really didn't know the answer to my questions. I was happy with myself but I was not happy. I knew I could do more and I tried to do more, but why was I in one stagnant point? I was glad that I was Catleya and not another person but there was more to Catleya than the one now. I was confused and running around in circles. But I promised myself, no, I will not show it. I didn't want to because when I do, everyone would know that I was a failure.
~*~
Ayortha was I place I would love to love but would love to hate. People there did not talk. And I was garrulous. I would have a better conversation with a tree rather than with an Ayorthaian. Usually, if I were in Ayortha, I would have to spend time with the nobles. Commoners speak but nobles don't. Well, they do but not often.
I especially did not like spending time with Queen Vanessa or Aunt Vanessa. She was not an Ayorthaian. She was from Erima and was a gorgeous woman. She was also my mother's friend. She liked me but whenever someone mentioned that I could easily rival and conquer her own beauty, she would shun me for weeks or until I visit again from Kyrria. When she was not shunning me, she was toying with me.
I knew that when I step foot on Ayortha, she would instantly kiss my cheeks politely and then drag me to her chambers and try to play dress-up with me. She saw me as the loveliest life-sized china doll that she could play with. She would fix my hair which was often always in disarray. She even got close to painting my face but I didn't permit it. She would dress me up in beautiful and extravagant gowns, which I didn't also like. They were too…exorbitant and flaunting. I appreciated looking nice and comely but it didn't mean that I enjoyed it. It was irrelevant to everything. One could always fulfill something even without wearing a beautiful dress.
Her son, Tristan, was not much of a consolation. Since he was not pure Ayorthaian, he was actually talkative, like his mother. To be frank about our relationship, I could safely say that we hated each other from the bottom of our hearts. He was a spoiled brat. He was intelligent, yes, but he would brag his infinite knowledge of whatever he knew. Oh what else could I say about that obnoxious, impertinent imbecile who has nothing more but an iridescent flame of impishness? How my blood curdles with the mere thought of him. But then…I last met him five years ago and anything could happen in five years. I was a mature, knowledgeable young lady and I would not sink down to his level of thinking. He probably still hates me for punching his nose. All I could say was that It was his fault. I would be willing to give him another chance to act his age but I would not be patient.
Aunt Areida was a comfort in Ayortha. Once, she gave me the tour of the whole of Ayortha. The only way to describe Ayortha was through an exotic colorful bird with a harmonious song. She also talked so this was a consolation. She and my mother were the closest friends. They met in finishing school, a place my mother considered a dungeon with torture. I was thankful she wouldn't send me to a finishing school.
I guessed I was lying about Aunt Areida and Tristan not talking when I argued with Mother yesterday. She did talk but I really needed an excuse not to go there.
Since I've grown, I knew that Aunt Vanessa would be more enthusiastic to play with me.
"What are you thinking about?" a voice broke in my thoughts. Mother was seated beside me, looking at me with the same green eyes. Father was riding his horse. He much preferred the outdoors rather than the inside of a carriage. Mother would be next to him if I weren't here. We were already on our way to Ayortha but it would be a good five days before we actually get there.
I shook my head. "Nothing. Just thinking."
"Well, at least you're not exploding with anger. I'm really glad you came with us Catleya, without a scandalous tantrum in the hall," Mother said. She laughed suddenly. I could feel my face turn red.
"I was still eleven back then."
Mother was still laughing. "But you caused the royal household a great fright. They all thought you've come up with this mental illness!"
I made a face. I remember it perfectly. I was still a child and the perfect brat. Mother told me I needed to go to Ayortha. By that time, I was already traumatized by Aunt Vanessa's games of dress up, and fed up with Tristan's taunts and pranks. Tears were practically falling down my tears like that of a waterfall's. I slid down the banister, something Mother and I did when no one was looking, and stormed to the main hall. I intended to go to the kitchen to vent out my frustrations to Mandy but Mother caught me there. I started screaming: "No one loves me and everybody hates me! How could you make me go to that place? I thought I was your daughter!!" I didn't want to tell her that Aunt Vanessa and Tristan were the reasons for my resistance. If she knew, Aunt Vanessa would know, and then she would hate me. I didn't like Aunt Vanessa much but I did like her enough to try and make her fondness for me last. I didn't care whether Tristan would hate me. We already hate each other at that time.
"Well I wasn't. Is Owen coming to Ayortha too?" I missed my older brother. He had been gone for weeks and the palace was different without him. It seemed empty without someone to debate with. Father and Mother were always busy taking care of the kingdom.
Mother nodded. I wondered why people called me beautiful when my mother was more beautiful that I. She certainly has a more pleasing personality than intellectual me. "I sent him a letter. I just hope that he would receive him. I worry about him but then I shouldn't worry much. Your father went on the same expedition when he was just eighteen. And Owen's been doing it since he turned eighteen."
I sighed. Ever since Owen left, she had been flipping in and out of worry. "He will be fine, Mother. After all, he took after Father. And he has been doing this for a rather suitably long time."
"Yes. But then, what sort of mother would I be if I don't worry for his safety?" my mother shot back. Sometimes she acted like my sister, sometimes my mother.
"As far as I know, Owen is fine. He sends me letters occasionally. Actually, I think he's enjoying it."
Mother's face was suddenly ashen. "Being with ogres is not enjoyable, Catleya. I don't want you going to Fens just for entertainment."
I knew about her encounters with ogres. But then, if she wasn't captured, humans wouldn't have a weapon against them. Mother discovered that their powers to manipulate people through speech could be used against it. She was the first to use it. She saved herself because of this. Because of her discovery, humans could now resist ogres. Her method was used in all the kingdoms to defeat the ogres. That was one of the reasons why she was great.
Another reason was because she instigated schools in Kyrria. The schools taught the citizens to speak Ogrese so then they could protect themselves from their monsters. The people were taught the language and the manner of this technique. Mother often taught the students there when she had the time. She was the best Ogrese speaker and the pioneer to the method. But then, I was her best student.
Mother personally taught Owen and I this. I was better than Owen. Owen had this slight accent that hindered complete control. But then, that didn't stop him from controlling ogres. I didn't have the accent and I was a natural linguist.
I could speak fluently in Kyrrian (of course), Ayorthaian, Ogrese, and Elfin. I was quite acquainted with Gnomic and Abdegi. Mother was fluent in all those languages and more. Linguistics was one of my traits that I inherited from Mother. Mother was Court Linguist, and I was following her steps.
Because I was better than Owen, it meant that I could rub it in. I spoke with him in Ogrese, ordering him to look silly, like hopping on one foot. If he were caught off guard, he would be under my spell for minutes, but not long.
"I could take care of myself."
Mother smirked. "Yes, you can take care of yourself but that doesn't mean you have to go barging in their tribes demanding a lesson in Ogrese."
I laughed. "Owen and I can take care of ourselves but that doesn't mean we would put ourselves in danger. But…Owen did…so maybe he's crazy."
Mother smiled. "And I forgot to tell you that we are not just going to Ayortha because of Areida."
For some reason, there was cold dread in my stomach.
"What's the other reason?"
My mother paused, trying to think. I knew by her face that the next words would make me—
"We're coming as the honorary guests of a celebration for the return of Prince Tristan from his travels," she told me curtly.
My jaw dropped. "I am attending a ball for that…that moronic evil person?" I almost screamed.
Mother was laughing again. "Catleya, I know you are very smart but that is a very dim-witted description." She suddenly became serious. "Yes, you are attending a celebration in his honor. You do know that he started traveling when he was fifteen. Now he returns after two years to celebrate his safe return. Vanessa had been very concerned when he left."
I was scowling. Visiting Aunt Areida was a joy but attending a ball for Tristan was not. But deep inside, I was laughing. Moronic evil person??
Mother raised her eyebrow. "I know you don't like Tristan much—"
"Very much," I interjected.
"But we as the rulers of Kyrria should show courtesy to our neighbors," Mother continued. "And I've been looking forward to seeing Areida and Vanessa again. I can't say that you should try not to be mad at him. I can't do it if I were you."
"I could still forgive him," I confided, "after all it was five years ago. But if he makes one measly blunder, I will never speak with him again."
"He played pranks on you, and you played pranks on his too. It's both your fault."
I decided to ignore her second statement. "He was not prankish. It was an understatement! He is an infernal, diabolical, and maniacal whelp!"
Mother rolled her eyes. "He is childish but he is now seventeen. When you were the same age as he was when he became the infernal, diabolical—well, my point is you are being a hypocrite because you were once like him."
I couldn't exactly remonstrate her statement. I was a brat…a whelp…but that was before! But that impudent boy five years ago might not be the young man I would meet again. The impudent boy might have changed like the impudent girl.
"But you did punch his nose and that would merit five years of hatred from him," Mother suddenly said.
"But he placed dung on my bedroom," I retorted. Tristan and I were warring worlds. It all started when we first laid eyes on each other. I was seven and he was eight. Mother and Aunt Vanessa looked at us happily. I didn't know what they were thinking, and I hate to wonder what. I saw him as a scrawny boy and he saw me as a skinny girl taller than him. There were always instances when little girls and little boys look at each other and feel nothing but immature loathing. That happened to Tristan and I, unfortunately, we still disliked each other after four years when we met.
When he dumped muck on the bedroom I was staying in while I was in Ayortha, I knew it was the last draw. I hunted him down like a hound on a fox. I found him in the gardens, snickering and triumphing in his latest blow to me. I marched right up to him and punched him on the nose. He had it coming.
I didn't know if we would still hate each other now that we were young adults, but then I would have to wait and see.
Mother leaned back. "I don't blame you though. I suppose punching noses will run in our family. Owen punched an old playmate of his. But then he was eight and young. You were eleven and already have half the decent mind you have now."
Owen did punch someone on the nose. The reason was because of me. When I was still five, I was defiant but this bully was impossible to take on. The bully was nine years old and I wouldn't bother to remember his name. I forgot what he was supposed to be doing but he kept on teasing me, pulling my hair, and calling me terrible names. My brother saw him and punched him on the nose. The bully was too surprised to react and ran away. I wondered who he was… My brother was as special to me as I was special to him. We had this bond that couldn't be broken.
"I punched the nose of a girl before," Mother mused.
"Why?"
"You wouldn't believe it."
I knew what she meant. I believed her story about the curse of obedience but I found it hard to believe. It wasn't because I saw my mother a liar, but because it was so incredible that it confused me. And I didn't like being confused. I laughed when she told me the story just to hide my bafflement. Mother decided to make me laugh even more by telling me that Mandy was a fairy. This was unbelievable. Mandy never did anything extraordinary and when I asked her, she scowled at me so terribly that I avoided her for days. I supposed that she was offended that she was being laughed at. Lucinda was the fairy who gave my mother the curse. She also gave Owen and I rings that I haven't found the use for. Lucinda could be my mother's ploy to make life more interested. Not that life wasn't interesting with ogres, elves, gnomes, and dwarfs. Fairies allegedly didn't show themselves to us humans and because of this I didn't believe that Mandy was a fairy. Well, obviously she wouldn't be our cook if she were a fairy!
My feet and my mother's curse were the two things that justified their existence. My feet were tiny. It was a good thing I wasn't plump or else I might fall over. I was rather clumsy too. I sometimes tripped on my own feet despite the fact that I was a graceful dancer. Tiny feet were easy to dance with. You didn't have to worry about stepping on your own feet.
I stared at my feet. "Do you think that Tristan would still be the same?" I asked Mother.
"He wouldn't be the same. This I am sure of. Two years of traveling could at least do some good to him. You changed, how come he can't?"
I nodded. For some reason, I was excited to meet Tristan again. No one really won in our arguments. We were both healthy with words that could easily make a timid person red. But then, I wanted to see if I could still kick his shins.
~*~
Yeah! It's done! It's not a continuation of What If but it's the relative of What If. I mentioned Owen and Catleya in the epilogue of What If.
Anyways, Catleya can't be the carbon copy of Ella because then it would be very boring. Mainly because Catleya doesn't have proper character development because she is…well…Ella in a way. Yes, the gnome said she'd be like he but in OTHER ways that you will soon discover later. That's what I meant. Catleya inherited traits from Ella but she is NOT Ella. Ok? Besides, if I made Catleya that way, she wouldn't be a real individual. I mean, how many kids ACTUALLY are carbon copies of their parents?
I know. Ella changed. She has to change because if you add nineteen years to a person's life, change is bound to happen. It is inevitable. But of course the very important traits are still there! ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ
I hope you like this chapter. Did you actually think I neglected this? The only reason I did was that I decided it would be the "continuation" to What If. You can't make a continuation if the story you're continuing is still in the making!
It's been a long time since I actually paid attention to this story but I realized that I couldn't leave it alone now that I wrote it in the epilogue. ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ
Thank you to the reviewers who reviewed this year and who reviewed last year!!
Now that didn't sound right…
Claidi