Disclaimer: (sobbing) No, I don't own it. But because I put this mindless note here, you can't sue me.
"...the warlord's daughter," I finished tentatively. Determined to live up to my station, I kept my head up high, for I had nothing to be ashamed of...except of course, the fact that until a few months ago, my father had been having innocent children killed. But that was NOT my fault!
Lord Wyldon just sighed and sat back in his chair, eyes closed. Have you ever had a moment where you think that no matter how things turn out, you will lose? Yeah, that's more or less what was running through my head. "I suspected as much. Your highness, this is not good. No one should know of this. Everyone here at the fort would turn against you."
"They...they would? I am no friend of the king. Frankly, I despise him."
"They would not believe that. You have two choices. One, go back to Scanra. Two, agree to have Master Numair give you a truth test before the entire camp."
"I...I...I cannot do either," I said, and bowed my head to hide the tears falling down my face. "I will submit to a truth test, but I can't let everyone find out my secrets...it would destroy me, and my father would come after me...he would kill me!"
"All the same, not everyone would trust you. Many would wish you ill."
"Very well, but he cannot ask me to describe the recent past. It would have...unpleasant consequences."
"I can't ask him to omit things, Kry- Your Highness. It's not honest." Lord Wyldon spole calmy.
"He can't! Do what you like with me, but don't make me speak of that!" I jumped up, over turning the chair, my royal presence gone.
"I can think of only one solution, in that case."
I struggled to set the chair to rights, embarrassed at my outburst. "And that would be?"
"We shall send you to Corus."
I looked out from under the wagon's canvas covering. Everything was so amazing. I had seen some things in Scanra's capital, but nothing could've prepared me for this. The page who was riding with me pulled me back under the cover.
"No offense meant, Miss, but I've got orders from My Lord Wyldon not to let you be seen." The page had no idea who I was, or who my father was. He merely thought I was some Scanran refugee who wished to go to Corus, and I was being allowed to out of the kindness of Lord Wyldon's heart. He hadn't even questioned, just did as he was told. I love Tortallan pages, don't you?
"Of course," I said, and went back into the cart. We had had a long journey, but it was worth it. I was being taken to the palace, and I had been assured that I would be given enough money to start a new life, away from Scanra, the war, and all royalty. What can I say? I was giddy with excitement.
As we approached the palace (I stuck my head out a few more times.) I was amazed at the splendor of the place. Our castle in Scanra was several towers, one grand hall, and three rooms off the hall that served as bedrooms for our family and personal servants. There was also a kitchen where the rest of the servants slept, and barracks for the soldiers, but I was hardly ever allowed to leave the Great Hall and adjoining rooms, unless my father was with me. I shuddered at the thought of my father. Even reminding myself that plains, two rivers, a border, and four forts (not in that order) lay between myself and him didn't help. 'Snap out of it, girl!' I thought. 'If you want to meet Tortallan nobles and live, don't act stupidly.'
Suddenly, the horse pulling the cart stopped. The page jumped out quickly and gave me his hand so I could get down. Oh, I really need a Tortallan page for a personal servant. Then I remembered that I was about to become a commoner, a well off commoner, but a commoner nonetheless.
A man came up as I was stepping out of the wagon. He cleared his throat, and the page bowed and left. Oh...damn. Ah well, win some, lose some.
The man bowed and spoke in Scanran, which he wasn't very good at. "My lady, I am Duke Gareth of Naxen." This shocked me. Naxen was a very important fief in Tortall. This duke was the uncle of the king. (You'd be amazed how much you can learn about enemy nations when you have orders to stay in the room where they have war council meetings.)"I have orders to take you to the king," he said.
I spoke in Common, which I decided would not only be polite, it would be a gesture of kindness on my behalf. "Thank you, My - Your Grace, for your gesture of kindness in speaking in my language, but I have no problems speaking the tongue of this land." I even managed to get rid of most of my harsh, guttural accent. It was only after I remembered to address him with the proper title that I realized that he had referred to me as a lady, not highness, or even grace, the lowest title for a princess. He nodded and gestured for me to follow him.
As we walked, I thought. Maybe to these people, I wasn't a princess. I was just the daughter of some power hungry Scanran bastard. A man who'd had innocent children slaughtered for power. They had been killed because of his greed. He had started a war with a country that had never even tried to resist him, or fight against him. Kings try to gain land, but he took it to an extreme measure. No plan was too wrong, no action too evil or underhanded. He was a tyrant who had gotten his throne by taking hostages. "For protection," he'd said. Ha.
I'd seen those hostages, after they'd been beaten, of course. Not beaten for any particular reason, just because he took joy in seeing others harmed. The hostages looked ready to die. They didn't want to live anymore, after what had been done to them.
Once, I asked one what he thought of. He'd told me that occasionally he would think of his wife and children, but then the pain would come back. I didn't have the heart to tell him that his sons and daughter had been taken to Blayce. I thought he might die from the grief. He died a short time later, and my father's clerk sent a report to his clan's chief, saying all was well, and that his children saw him often, and that his wife would be allowed to come visit him soon. When she did come, she was tortured, and then given to Blayce's dog, Stenmun, for his personal enjoyment. We never heard of her again.
As I walked into the throne room, I thought, 'They're right. I'm not a princess.'
TBC
Hmm...not my best work ever, but I liked it. Certainly not my worst. Yeah, it's kinda violent, and my advisors (ok, the little voices in my head) told me to up the rating. Well, the slightly sane one did. The others were too busy laughing.
Lana: That was baaaad.
Everyone, meet my icky muse, Lana. She's my TP muse, and has some control over Lord of the Rings (which I don't own) fics. She doesn't like me much.
Lana: That's only the understatement of the century!
You could leave, you know. It's just that if you try, you'll be bashed over the head mercilessly with heavy objects, such as my baseball bat.
Lana: You don't have a baseball bat.
OK, fine, my complete dictionary, with every word in the English language. (I'm not kidding, it's over 2000 pages, filled with words that no one will ever need to know, such as reflorescense: To blosson anew. Yeah, you get the idea.)
Lana: EEEEK!!!!!!!!
Darn, now I have to throw stuff at her till she gets tired. Catcha later!
Elfklutz