The Unimaginable
by Zenin
"There are some things you just can't imagine…"
"Mawwage…that bwessed awwangement. That dweem wivvin a dweem…"
I glanced sideways at the girl beside me. Jet-black hair combed to fall in silky waves to her back, complemented by the creaminess of her skin, proclaimed her to be truly beautiful. Almond eyes were lowered, indicating respect for the ceremony. Her face was smooth, void of all expression as a small hand lightly traced the outline of the fan tucked into the obi of her bright kimono. She was gorgeous…exquisite…perfect.
"The dweem of wuv wapped wivvin the gweater dweem of everwasting west. Wemember that etewnity is our fwend and wuv wiw fowow you fowever," the priest droned on.
Umm…what did he say? I shook my head slightly. We have to start advertising for a new priest.
My thoughts wandered away from the ceremony and back to the girl beside me. You would think that I'd just jump for joy at the prospect of wedding such a wonderful girl. But, strangely enough, I didn't feel anything of the sort. In fact…I was kind of dreading it.
"Wiv gwace, wiv hope, wiv dweems, wiv wuv…continue to wiv out your wives in the acknowledgement that there is no gweater wuv than this: that a man lay down his wife for his fwrend."
Okay…that's just messed up.
"You may kiss the bwide."
I watched as Keladry of Mindelan lifted her veil, flushing as Nealan of Queenscove bent down and kissed her gently. Neal had been in love with Kel for who knows how long. And all the time he had been trying to make her jealous by writing sickening sonnets to the most beautiful women in court. Needless to say, it hadn't worked out too well. He just hadn't known how to approach such an unusual girl. Kel liked to fight, to joust, to protect people from harm. To her, sonnets were meaningless. And the ever-romantic Neal had been at a loss for what to do. That is, until he had saved her life up in Scanra.
Yes, that's right. Neal, the horrible fighter that he was, had thrown himself between Keladry and Stenmun, the man she had been fighting. Strangely enough, Neal had managed to lop off the guy's head…I guess by using some sword trickery that he had learned from the Lioness. Talk about luck.
I watched as the couple walked out of the chapel, bombarded by handfuls of rice. Neal bent next to Kel's ear and whispered something. Her hazel eyes widened and she slugged him in the shoulder. He winced, but smiled happily as he gave Kel a good shove, toppling the serene bride unceremoniously into the carriage. Their honeymoon began with much rejoicing and… "Nealan of Queenscove!"
Everyone laughed as the carriage pulled out of sight, Neal effectively quieting his bride with kisses.
+==+==+==+
Yeah, okay...enough of the gagging ceremony. Who am I?
Roald. Formally, I'm Prince Roald of Conte, the crown prince of Tortall and future king of the realm.
Whoop-de-do.
And, unfortunately, I will soon be following Neal's footsteps in a wedding of my very own. Yeah, that's right. I'm going to get married. In six months, to be precise. My bride-to-be is Shinkokami, Princess of the Yamani Islands. Miss Stone Face. I swear, even Keladry of Mindelan had a more expressive face. I don't think I can call Shinkokami "Lump" though. There are certain restrictions to being royalty. That's the thing that gets to me...
All my life I have been forced to be the perfect son to the perfect king. And just to let all you out there who actually seem to like my father, he is not the perfect king. For instance, I do not think the perfect king goes around bedding every damned girl that comes from the convent. Not just the pretty ones, either. All of 'em. Well, I guess my father thinks he can do whatever he wants, as long as it doesn't interfere with the governing of his country. I suppose he has no clue about all the girls who suddenly had to disappear from court after "chatting" with him. Basically, I have no respect whatsoever for my father. And my poor mother has no clue.
You'd think that the king's own son would be a bit like him. Well, maybe in looks, but certainly not in action. My father never was a remarkable fighter. Sure, he has the Gift and all, but I still think that Lady Alanna did most of the work. Were it not for the Dominion Jewel (provided by the Lioness, I might add), my father would have lost everything in the Immortals War. My father may be an okay king, but I repeat, he is not perfect.
I have been trained to become the next king. The next perfect king, in fact. But there is a small problem...a rather minor detail...
I do not want to be king.
And I do not want to marry Shinko.
Oh, she's okay, really. Very pretty, smart, talented...I might actually have liked her if she wasn't so…argh, what's the word I want? Domesticated? I suppose that's the word I was looking for. Shinkokami is very nice and all, but somehow she's missing something. Spice. Personality. The ability to defy me. All she ever says is "Yes, Your Highness." What about the freedom of speech?
Erm…well, I guess it is a bit daunting to know that I can lop off someone's head if they insult me.
But I don't do that. I have been insulted before. And, to tell you the truth, I'd much rather be insulted than coddled like some baby who can barely walk.
I want to fight. And I don't think I'd be too bad either, given the chance. I just want to experience a true brawl, rather than sparring with someone who barely brushes my skin with his sword. I'm tired of being protected.
So…
What happens next?
Do I continue this damned life of foppery? Or do I do something to alter the course of my life?
Naturally, the second option seems to be the best. A plan is springing to mind…but how can I exit the palace without being caught? Is there anyone I can trust in this palace who can help me? And the Rogue's spies are everywhere…
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Jingle bells, jingles bells, jingle all the way… I don't know if I like this chapter too much. Anyways, just to warn you, this chapter is subject to lots of happy editing.
© 2002 Zenin Industries