Chapter One : Discovery
The oldest Warner brother sighed contently as he slipped the book back into its space on the old oak shelf amongst its kin. It had been a good read and the story was still fresh in his mind, sending pleasant waves of inspiration through his veins. Someday he too wished to write something so profound. At the moment though, he'd be happy to just find another good book to lose himself in.
Yakko stepped back to survey the mountain of literature before him. What a beautiful sight indeed. He wondered if he'd ever be able to read everything in the palace library. He could certainly put forth the effort though. But he would take his time, immersing himself in each text, giving them each the same amount of respect and attention. Running out of books to read would be a shame anyway.
Even when he and his family were out on the streets Yakko would try to find something, be it a newspaper or random flyers, anything to expand his mind and sharpen his thought process. Reading did just that, increasing his vocabulary and intellect. He viewed intelligence and knowledge of the world around you to be extremely important and vital to living. If anything, he knew that the wit and intelligence he gained from reading would propel him farther in life, especially since being able to read was a luxury in the current time period.
His dark eyes scanned the many shelves, looking for one to leap off its perch and into his awaiting gloves, insisting that it be read. He moved from case to case, running his hands over the hard leather bindings, trying to absorb their stories through osmosis.
He glanced out the large bay window in the library, the crescent moon rising to its full potential. He had tucked Dot in an hour ago, and Wakko would probably be off to bed soon as well.
Perhaps just a short light read for the night and then he too would go to sleep. Yakko skimmed over the various books, mouthing the titles, pausing every few seconds to ponder their meaning. Eventually though his eyes fell on a thin, deep, crimson spine, faded and worn from handling, but smooth to the touch. It was on the shelf just above his eye-level. Unlike many of the books that shared its oak home, this one was lacking a title that would have usually been scrawled across the center fold.
Curious, Yakko wrapped his fingers around the book, tugging it from its confinement amongst the rest. But instead of smoothly slipping away from the other books, this one appeared to be stuck. Raising an eyebrow, the prince pulled a little harder, and harder some more, fearing he might very well pull the whole shelf down if he wasn't careful.
-Click-
Yakko's sensitive ears perked at the precarious noise. Had he ripped the book? No, the sound was different to that of tearing pages. Almost like an unlatching lock.
The book had only extended a few inches from the others, still refusing to relinquish its spot on the self. Confused, Yakko tried once again to pull it down, starting slightly when the entire case moved. He quickly let go of the binding and stepped back, ready to dive out of the way of the falling books.
But nothing happened. Had he imagined the shelf moving? He reached out to touch it and it creaked as he pushed it back into place, the book sliding back and the questionable click sounding once more.
A shiver ran up Yakko's spine making the end of his tail frizz slightly. What had he just found? Reaching up to pull on the book again, it mirrored its past actions and the Warner continued to pull. Old rusting hinges protested loudly as the book case slowly swung open like a door.
Yakko, adrenaline pumping, craned his neck to the side, peering behind the shelf. He tilted his head in wonder as he opened the case wider, stepping inside the dark, musty space.
His red nose wrinkled from the heavy dust that was stirred up by his presence. He squinted through the haze, his eyes panning over the length of the small room.
It was by far the smallest room in the palace, even going as far as being diminutive to their closets. A small window was at the opposite end, moonlight trying unsuccessfully to break through the thick grime coating the glass. Dust particles danced in the tiny bit of light that spilled into the room from the library torches. The light splashed against the unpolished wooden floor, creeping up and landing on the only article of furniture in the small room.
A writing desk.
Briefly looking back over his shoulder, Yakko pushed the bookcase open as far as it would go, letting more light in. His pristine white paws padded softly against the floor as he entered the space, kicking up more dust that clung to his clothes in the process.
Coughing slightly, his airways being assaulted by the thick air in the room, Yakko walked up to the desk, his shadow looming over it. He stared down at the surface, gingerly moving aside the blank pieces of parchment, disturbing the inch of dust that had mounted on top, causing him to sneeze.
He waved away the tornado of filth, blinking his eyes a few times to clear them. Returning his gaze to the table top, he picked up the long, frilled quill resting on top of the paper, gently brushing his fingertips against the old feathers. He set it back down beside the inkwell, having long been dried up.
As Yakko observed the objects on the desk, he noticed the center drawer was slightly ajar. Sliding the wooden frame open a little more, he glanced at the contents.
Amongst the various pieces of parchment, some folded into letters with broken old wax seals, others open and showing signs of creases where they were once handled often, he found a small book, crimson-colored like the one on the shelf. Yakko scooped it out of the drawer and looked it over.
Smearing away the dust, Yakko marveled at the beautiful engravings on the leather binding, twisting vines and flowers cascading over the surface. Thin teal and magenta ribbons sprung from the folded pages, marking specific pages that at one time must have been significant. A thick, faded violet ribbon tied the book together, pulled into a delicate bow at the seams.
Flipping the book over to the front, hoping to find a title, Yakko wiped away a bit more dust, revealing the curvy golden manuscript burned into the center of the book's cover.
Adela
Yakko felt his hands starts to tremble as his eyes panned over the name several more times before he allowed them to blink. The oldest Warner slowly licked his chap lips, swallowing hard to push the forming lump down his throat.
The name rang in his brain, echoing loudly and bouncing off the walls of his subconscious. It burrowed deeply into some corner of him that had been lost, how or why he just couldn't recall. But he knew the name…
It was one of the names right bellow his own on the birth certificate Dr. ScratchnSniff had found for him.
Adela Warner…
It was then that Yakko realized he hadn't taken a breath since he had read the name. Exhaling all at once, the prince felt slightly light headed, one of his hands reaching out to grab the back of the old wooden desk chair, pulling it out to sit down. A billow of dust swirled around the small room as he did so, some of it getting into his eyes.
He rubbed his irritated sight, setting the book down on the desk as his vision cleared. He coughed from the sudden intake of dust; he couldn't stay in this room much longer. His lungs were reprimanding him with a slight wheeze.
Still reeling at his discovery, Yakko relented and stood up, exiting the room while still coughing. His throat was dry and his eyes burning. Stepping back into the torch lit library, Yakko jumped at the sound of the old grandfather clock, chiming loudly as it announced midnight.
Realizing he stayed up much too late, Yakko glanced once more into the tiny room before closing the book case. Whatever secrets he had just stumbled upon would have to wait till morning.
-
Dawn came too early for Yakko after a night of restless tossing and turning. His mind refused to let him sleep, thinking nonstop and as fast as his mouth moved sometimes. Thoughts that were too deep if he expected to fall asleep, which didn't happen until the very early hours of the morning.
His mind kept returning to his find. Thinking long and hard on it only made his curiosity scream at him to return to the book. Groggy and heavy with exhaustion, Yakko wasn't sure his finding of the room behind the bookcase even took place. It all seemed too mystical, too fantasy-esque, to have been real. Had he simply dreamed it?
The young prince rolled over in his large bed, hugging his blanket closer to him and burying his white face into his satin pillow to escape the sunlight peaking through his drapes. After deciding that it had all been a dream, his mind was content to skip breakfast and catch up on lost sleep. But as he started to drift off, the song of the morning lark lulling him back to the world of dreams, his chamber door squeaked slightly as it was pushed open.
The youngest of the Warner siblings stepped into the room cautiously, her white furred paws standing out from the deep purple carpet. Still in her powder pink silk night gown that stopped just above her ankles, Dot glanced around the room; her gaze falling on the lump curled up in the center of the king sized bed. Looking behind her, she motioned for her other brother to follow her.
Wakko, still in his own light blue pajamas and looking less awake than his bright eyed sister, was yawning and scratching his head under his signature cap. He followed at a much slower pace as Dot scampered up to the side of Yakko's bed, standing up on the very tips of her toes to peak over the side at her dozing brother.
"Is he sick?" Wakko asked stretching the stiffness that sleep had smeared over his muscles.
"Don't think so…" Dot answered, pulling herself up onto the downy mattress and crawling over to Yakko, whose ears were twitching at the sounds of his siblings.
Yakko was always the first one up, and ironically, usually the last one to fall asleep. His internal alarm clock was very good at waking him up early, having been seasoned into doing so from years of waking up at the crack of dawn to care for his ailing sister and prepare meager meals for the three of them. It was all second nature for the oldest. Even now when they had an entire cooking staff to feed them, Yakko still didn't sleep in. He would always start the mornings by waking his siblings so they could walk together to the kitchen and eat breakfast.
When Yakko had failed to wake her up, instead being stirred by the sounds of morning wildlife, Dot was curious as to why her brother had been unsuccessful in his morning ritual. Yakko, though spontaneous and random in his speech and thoughts, was very much a boy who stuck to his routine patterns, a trait he picked up quickly after the responsibility of being the oldest and only caretaker of his siblings was thrust upon him. She had quickly dashed across the hall to her other brother's room to see if he too had been denied a wakeup call.
Course, unlike Dot, Wakko slept like rock and would more than likely sleep until noon each day if Yakko didn't wake him. But upon being woken up, the other Warner brother was a bit confused that it was his sister's face that greeted him this morning.
Reaching her brother's side, Dot tilted her head to the side, mirroring Yakko's position and pressing her nose to his. "Yakko… are you sleeping?" she whispered loudly.
The eldest opened one heavy eye lid and stared at his inquisitive sibling, her large eyes looking into his and her long tail swishing back and forth behind her. "No Dot, I'm water skiing…"
"I had a dream like that once, but the lake was made of chocolate…" Wakko commented, pulling himself up onto the enormous bed, slipping on the silk sheets, but succeeding on the second try.
"I thought I told you to stop drinking Scratchy Cola before bed?" Yakko yawned, looking over at his brother. His gaze returned to Dot though when she started to poke his shoulder incessantly. He stared at her for a minute and she stared back before grinning widely, refusing to stop her onslaught. He smirked and in one quick swoop, pulled her down onto the bed, dragging her under the covers as she shrieked and giggled.
"You've woken the troll; you're now doomed to suffer his wrath!" Yakko announced, lowering his voice to fit the part. Dot screamed louder as he started to tickle her sides.
Suddenly much more awake, Wakko smiled, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in its usual manner. He pounced on the lump of sibling under the covers, causing Dot to shriek more and Yakko to attempt to pull his brother under the sea of satin and silk as well.
Their rough housing was brought to an abrupt halt at the familiar sound of someone clearing their throat. The three paused and Yakko tossed the covers off of them, revealing the sight of a tall, lengthy badger standing at the foot of the bed. His beady dark eyes narrowed in a disapproving glare.
The badger sighed and rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. "Your majesties, it's almost a quarter after nine! Were you planning on staying in bed all day?"
The three siblings shook their heads, breathing hard and trying to get over their giggle fits. "Sorry Lance, accidently slept in…" Yakko responded with a smirk after swallowing enough air to get the words out.
Lance shook his head in condemnation as he turned to leave the room. "This is not proper conduct, my lord. Honestly, the examples you're setting… what must the kingdom think…" the chamberlain muttered on his way out.
Wakko pushed his hat up out of his eyes, askew from the rough housing, waited until the badger was out of earshot to comment, "Designated fun killer…"
"He came with the castle," Yakko said, plopping back down against his pillow.
Lance was a member of the royal court and self-appointed advisor to the siblings, and rather tall for a badger with an unsettling underfed appearance. He had long bony fingers that made Yakko shiver whenever the man curled them around his slim shoulders. His narcissistic and obsessive compulsive personality were a dangerous combination, and often put the children in foul moods after having to sit through his lectures and reprimanding. Lance deemed it his job to not only teach the orphans proper etiquette for royal living, but also to make sure they didn't "embarrass" the kingdom. But in the sibling's opinion, Lance's expectations were impossible and rather ridiculous. Yakko was quite certain Lance didn't approve of three children running Warnerstock, even if they were royal blood and were doing a rather good job of it. But the cranky badger was, if not anything else, amusing and fun to annoy.
Dot giggled and settled down to curl up next to Yakko, wrapping her short arms around one of his longer ones.
"Why are you still in bed?" she asked, nuzzling his arm.
"Tiiiired…" Yakko's response melted into a yawn as he rubbed his eyes. "Didn't get much sleep…"
"How come?" Wakko interjected, lying down on the pillow on the other side of Yakko.
"Guess I just had weird dreams," the oldest brother responded, gently petting one of Wakko's soft velvety ears, his other arm slipping from Dot's grip to wrap around her shoulders, her arms encircling his chest instead .
Ignoring their advisor's displeasure to their actions, the three spent the next hour just lying in Yakko's bed, chatting about nonsense and playing "I Spy" for a good portion of the morning until they ran out of objects in the room to describe. The brothers and sister never passed up a chance to lay around in this manner and just talk, strengthening their already unbreakable bond. All three, though vastly different in almost every way possible, agreed on one thing.
Above all else, their siblings came first.
Later that afternoon, Yakko sighed as he removed the heavy golden crown from atop his head. It still didn't fit quite right and slid down in front of his eyes every few minutes. He was certain a bruise was forming on the bridge of his muzzle from the many times it landed there. One of the waiting maids insisted that he would grow into it soon, that he looked very mature wearing it, but it still annoyed him.
He set the shimmering symbol of his royalty down on the velvet pillow made specifically for it, right in the center of the two other pillows that held his siblings' crowns. They had appeased Lance by attending the most mind-numbingly boring council meeting of all time. The young prince was sure it was punishment for staying in bed with his siblings until noon. Why the badger insisted they always wear their robes and those heavy crowns to those sorts of trivial procedures he didn't know. Lance would blabber on and on about tradition this and tradition that, but Yakko was close to making up his own tradition, one that involved honey and his cranky advisor's shampoo bottle.
Now though, he was free from any more duties for the day except making sure he and his siblings appeared at dinner. Wakko and Dot had already dispersed around the castle to amuse themselves with their own personal quiet time. Yakko had a pretty good guess as to where each of them was. While Wakko enjoyed spending his free hours in the palace stables, running, jumping around, and burning off all his excess energy, Dot was probably exploring the trunks of old clothes a few of the chamber maids had found for her. His sister could spend hours in front of her full length mirror playing dress up in the old gowns that she wouldn't fit into for quite a few years.
That was fine with Yakko. There were plenty of stable hands to watch over his brother and ladies in waiting to care for Dot. It was as good a time as any to retire to his sanctuary: the library.
On his way to his favorite room in the castle, Yakko's mind skipped back to his restless night and the urges that kept tugging at his subconscious. It took him a minute to remember the dream about the room behind the bookcase.
Or had it been a dream?
When he entered the library Yakko's eyes instantly fell on the bookcase in question. He felt silly as he walked up to it, his eyes scanning the shelf for a book that a good portion of him believed was only a fantasy.
But no… there it was. The crimson binding stared right back at him from its perch just above his eye-level right in the center of the shelf.
More details of the night flooded back to him, details too vivid and precise to be from a dream. He reached up, pulling the book out of its place, unlatching the bookcase from its lock. It hadn't been a dream, he excitedly thought as he pulled the case away from the wall. It had been real.
The corners of his mouth turned upward into an elated grin as he stepped into the small room, his eyes falling on the worn desk against the wall.
The room was bathed in a dim, warm golden glow, the sunlight failing just as much as the moonlight had when trying to break through the dusty window pane. Yakko stepped into the uncomfortably warm room, noting the poor circulation of air and the musty smell. It had to have been many years since it was opened before last night.
He followed the footsteps he had made in the dusty floor the evening before, walking over to the desk and smiling down at very book that had his mind reeling all night.
The prince lifted the manuscript, smiling wider as his eyes scanned the name across the front. It had to be his mother's, it just had to be. The possibilities of that had Yakko's heart beating wildly. He had been told that so much of his family's history had been lost in the revolt. The fact that he held in his hands a potential link to his past made the young teen want to leap for pure joy.
Clutching the small book tightly in his gloved hands, Yakko retreated out of the musty room, remembering the dust's assault against his lungs and preferring to explore his new treasure elsewhere. He crossed the hall to the throne room, hopping up onto his favorite window ledge, pushing the window open just slightly to feel the cool breeze from the waterfall.
He settled back against the stone wall, one knee propped up, and the other leg dangling off the ledge. Yakko blew away the remaining dust that his gloves hadn't wiped off the book. He wondered what the slim text contained as he gingerly tugged at the ribbon holding the binding together. Setting the violet cloth aside, Yakko carefully opened the old leather cover, cringing at the sound of aged crinkling paper. He prayed it wouldn't crumble into dust before he could see any of it.
The yellowed parchment stayed intact though and Yakko held his breath as his eyes scanned the short message scrawled across the first page:
My dearest daughter,
I apologize for the fact that things did not go exactly as we planned for you, but I am incredibly proud of how you are handling the situation. Your father is only trying to do what he believes is best for you, but I for one know how much you loved your home and can only imagine how much it must hurt to leave it. Know that I am hurting too. You are strong, Adela, and if I did not believe that you could persevere through these hard times and this difficult decision I would not have supported sending you to Warnerstock. I kept a journal when I was your age and thought perhaps this one would keep you company during the lonely nights. Stay safe, my love.
Yakko turned the page, being careful of the delicate paper as his eyes drank in the details of the inked words, admiring each stroke, curve, and dip to the letters. The penmanship changed on the next page, the date scribbled in the corner, dating back to two years before his birthday. He leaned closer to the pages, his mind absorbing each detail like a sponge. His eyes were so enthusiastic to read the next word he found himself having to forcibly read slower as to not miss anything. Engrossed in the words, lost in the story, Yakko let his mind wander, let the words take him to the time and place the journal entries were written in.
--And so I find myself alone amongst many people. People who know my name, but I know not theirs. It is late and though I should probably be asleep I can't bring myself to relax and this carriage seems to grow smaller and more confining with each mile. I'll be arriving in Warnerstock mid morning tomorrow where I will meet my betrothed, King Maximus the IV. I would be lying if I said I was not nervous.
Three months ago a messenger came to our small kingdom of Glenadale with news from the neighboring monarch. Apparently their ruler was not doing well and soon age would claim him. It was not death he feared, but instead leaving his kingdom without a proper heir troubled the man.
My father, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, seized the opportunity once he heard the king of Warnerstock was looking for a bride. I'm the youngest of three, my sister being the oldest, then my brother after her. My sister, being the first born and, with no doubt, my father's jewel, was already set to be married to a prince from three kingdoms over, the two of them in line to take my mother and father's place as the rulers of Glenadale. This is not to say I am jealous of my sister, quite the contrary. Bethany is and always was fit to rule, anyone could see that. At the time I was more than happy for her, for I was anything but ready to take the throne. Of course I was also convinced I never would be and that my father already accomplished his goals through my sister. I was content to live a life of no royal obligations and in turn, a life of my own. Having just turned fourteen this spring, I was glad to have dodged the marriage bullet.
Fate had other plans though and here I am. Father insists it's the best for me, that I've been given an opportunity not many in my position and last born status would be given, but those words do little to calm me down. But I accepted my father's wishes when he announced how pleased it would make him if I accepted the king's proposal, really what else could I have done? The dowry was paid and soon after I received a message from the king himself.
I must have read that letter every night since it was placed in my hands. He's very eloquent in his writing and he sounds kind and considerate, explaining how blessed he is that I will be coming to aid his kingdom. He assures me I will be well cared for in Warnerstock, and I don't doubt that I will be. But that doesn't change the fact that King Maximus is many…MANY years older than I am. It feels as if my life has suddenly skipped ahead in time and though he is trying to be polite and hospitable, I cannot help but feel like a tool meant only for producing an heir for him.
Bethany is getting married this summer…I will already be giving birth.