I was going to wait to update but I will do it now thanks to Fangirl's review. This chapter is one of my favourites, and is slightly longer than usual. Enjoy!
Part 3, Aimee
The first thing Aimee registered was the cold. The second was the size of the room. Or could it even count as a room? The place was the size of 16 large cathedrals, and at the front of the room, there were the legendary Seven Thrones. Or nine thrones, Aimee thought with a frown, doing a quick head count. As Aimee walked up the aisle arm in arm with Sophie, she observed the room. There was an aisle of red carpet, of which she was walking on. On either side of her, there were sets of pews. The three quarters of pews that were closer to the back of the room were wooden, plain, and held lots of people in normal clothes, though they were as clean and nice as you could get. The front quarter were still wooden, but they were shaped nicely, and had comfortable looking red pillows on which sat more people, though you could clearly tell the difference between these people and the ones behind them. These people wore beautiful elaborate clothes, ones Aimee had only seen in storybooks, of all different colours. They looked like a meadow of flowers. Fake flowers. Aimee's attention, however, was quickly pulled back to the front of the room. On the right of the thrones, there was a large grand box with seats that looked like they couldn't possibly get comfier. In it were more people, but you could tell that these people were special. If Aimee had thought the other people's clothes were grand, these people made them pale in comparison. If Aimee had thought that the other people looked like a meadow of fake flowers, than these people were the real thing. They weren't fake. In the box Aimee caught the eye of Martha, who smiled at her, and another girl, who looked about Aimee's age. The girl was tall, and had long, blonde hair, and electric blue eyes. She wasn't dressed in fine clothes. She was a servant, just like Martha. Aimee was determined to meet her. Maybe she had a letter too. On the left of the thrones, Aimee observed eight throne-like chairs, all wooden, engraved, and high-backed. The chair on the far right was the largest. Each throne from then on to the left, would get a few inches smaller. All these chairs were empty. She didn't think that was good. Then all of her attention was directed to the Seven Thrones. She had read about them once. Though Aimee didn't recall a picture, or a mention of the fact that there were nine thrones instead of seven. The thrones went out behind the middle throne in a V formation, and, like the chairs, each set of chairs got smaller by a few inches, though they were all larger than the eight chairs. The middle throne was pure gold, and almost the height of the ceiling. The King didn't even come up to half way. Left and right to the gold throne, there were two silver thrones. On the left silver throne, sat Queen Agatha, who did look rather round in the middle. Next to those two, one their left and right, was another two thrones, of bronze. They were empty. Aimee looked up at the bronze throne on the left. Somehow, she knew that was hers. Next to those two there was yet another set of thrones. This time, they were metal. They were empty as well. And on the right throne of the next pair, which were wooden like the chairs, sat Sir Eustace. Aimee was shocked. Eustace was the chosen knight of Arthur? Just goes to show how bad his tastes are. Suddenly she and Sophie stopped. They had reached the end of the aisle. Sophie flounced up to the thrones trilling like a bird, making her way to the silver chair on the right where she sat down gently. "Aggie! Teddy! You'll never guess who this is!"
"I wonder who." Tedros muttered, shooting Aimee a look. Then he froze. "You." He had gone rigid and was staring at her with thinly disguised hatred. "You abandoned me! What are you doing here?" Eustace was watching this all with an amused look on his filthy face. He was the only one. Everyone else looked scared. Sophie was trembling. Agatha was not. She had stood up. "Tedros! Will you please calm down! Look at her! She's only sixteen! A child! Younger than yourself! She is not your mother Tedros!" Agatha was getting worked up. Because of the baby, Aimee guessed. "I can see in your eyes that you want to throw her out! Get rid of her! But if you do, then we're done! I won't have you being cruel! I-"
"Agatha! Darling, sit down, this can't be good for the baby." Tedros' face was worried, all anger eradicated. He turned back to Aimee, and his lip curled. "Agatha is right. You cannot be my mother. But you bear a striking resemblance to her. Why is that?"
All this unnecessary drama was really getting on Aimee's nerves. She narrowed her eyes at Tedros. "Well, dear brother, don't you sound just like a villain." At Aimee's words, everyone but Sophie, Eustace and Martha stopped moving. It was silent. You could have heard a pin drop. Agatha was the first to recover. "Brother!? How can Tedros be your bro-" Then she stopped speaking as the truth dawned on her. Then everyone heard a harsh whisper. "Lancelot." It was Tedros. His face was white, and he didn't look angry. He looked shocked. He looked empty. Aimee took this as her opening and continued. "Yes Tedros. I am your sister. I am a rightful princess. I have a rightful claim to one of the thrones you are sitting on. My father may be Lancelot, but my mother was Guinevere. I am your half-sister. I am your blood. You are no longer alone. You have family."
"Agatha and Sophie are my family."
"Yes Tedros, they are. I wouldn't dare deny it. Tessa here is my family. But there is nothing that links you more than blood. I would know." The last part of Aimee's speech was a whisper, carrying days of sunlight and laughter, brown curly hair, warm brown eyes. The brush of white fur, fingers stroking through her hair. Love. She looked up, to find Tedros looking straight at her. And Aimee finally found something in his eyes. Recognition, forgiveness, love. And hope.
Please review! I hope you enjoyed my story so far.