Of Loss and Love (chp.2) [newly edited]

*coco · 2009-10-16T21:14:15Z

http://dl2.glitter-graphics.net/pub/1264/1264182rb7o4cx63a.gif Of Loss and Love: chapter two Love is a friend, a fire, a heaven, a hell, where pleasure, pain, and sad repentance dwell [Richard Barnfield] I awoke the next morning and was surprised to hear that Uncle Maurice – the newly crowned King of Asinya - was planning to host a grand banquet at the castle that night to celebrate his succession to the throne. Knowing Lord Sébastian as well as I did, he would surely persuade my uncle to use the occasion to introduce me to as many eligible suitors that the Kingdom possessed. It was crystal clear that he and the royal court considered me a thorn in their sight, a stain on their Kingdom, a reminder of my father’s legacy, and therefore wanted me out of the way as soon as possible. Their hostility towards me made me feel more alone and vulnerable than I could ever remember. I felt suffocated and isolated in my own home and it broke my heart, but I knew that no matter how much I wished, I could not afford to disobey the orders I would be given. I was now Uncle Maurice’s ward, under his guardianship and under his mercy. I was duty-bound to obey his every command. From the window of my dreary and lifeless quarters, I took the time to look out onto the castle gardens below and watched as several red breasted robins gathered together around one of the water fountains for a drink. I envied their freedom, for they had wings to fly away whilst I had royal blood that forever kept me in chains. Since the demise of my father I had often thought of running away, perhaps to my mother’s homeland or to a countryside somewhere with no castles, kings, or duties, where there were just trees and acres and acres of fresh, green, perfect land. But the idea dared not dwell in my mind for long. This castle, no matter which king claimed it as their own, belonged to my father. It was within the ancient stone walls that he and my grandfather went on to become the sixteenth and seventeenth kings of Asinya. It was here where my mother had died from the Great Plague, and where the memories of my childhood, filled with happiness and laughter resided. However much I wished, however difficult my life would become here, I could not find it in my heart to leave this place. Not until I was forced to. As night began to draw near, I sat at my dressing table looking at my reflection in the mirror. Staring back at me expressionlessly was a thin, pale skinned girl dressed in black, with sharp blue eyes and long crimson curls. Usually, on an occasion such as this one I would take the time to choose a much more elegant outfit than the simple one I now had on. I’d perhaps add some glistening jewels to my neck and ears, and maybe even try something a little daring with my hair, but today trivial things such as how I looked did not seem to matter anymore. Turning away from my reflection, I took a deep breath in an attempt to prepare myself to face the royal court for the first time since the death of my father. Nan entered my chambers just in time to see me get to my feet. “You look beautiful,” she smiled, affectionately tucking a loose curl behind my ear. “How are you feeling?” I sighed. “All I want to do is curl up in my bed and cry.” “I know...” she nodded sadly, before suddenly pulling out a familiar gold chain from inside her pocket. It had a heavy gold heart-shaped locket that had a crown at the top. “My mother’s necklace!” I said elatedly. Nan chuckled as I took it from her hand. “I had it fixed this morning by a jeweller friend of mine from the Northern towns. He is so very fond of you that he refused to take a single penny for his work.” “Oh, thank you, Nan!” “You’re welcome, my Lady,” she smiled. “Please, open it.” Inside were two tiny portraits on either side of the locket. On the right was a painting of my mother dressed in her favourite pink and gold gown. Her crimson-coloured curls hung loose on her neck, and her striking blue eyes, even in a painting, seemed to emanate kindness and warmth. On the other side of the locket was a portrait of my father in his later years, with streaks of gray in his curly hair and beard, which framed his otherwise kind and handsome face. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek as I ran my finger across the paintings. “I miss them both so much...” Nan took the locket from my hand and hung it around my neck before facing me towards the mirror and smiling at my reflection. “King Théodore and Queen Céline may not be with you in person, my Lady, but they will always be with you in your heart. Let their memories and this locket be what remind you of that.” We were suddenly interrupted when my chamber doors flung open. Standing in the doorway before us was Aunt Vivienne, a tall, pale and severe-looking woman with cat-like green eyes and a prominent chin. She was dressed in a teal coloured gown detailed with tiny crystals, ornaments of shining pearls hung from her neck and her long ebony black hair was drawn into a tight bun underneath her glistening royal crown. Nan and I both curtseyed respectfully as she approached us. Aunt Vivienne responded by throwing un-interested nods at the two of us before looking over my attire distastefully. “You’re wearing black, dear?” she asked, confused. “To mark my father’s death, your Highness,” I replied, unable to understand why she even needed to ask such a question. “Well, I understand that, of course,” she said irritably. “But tonight’s banquet is to celebrate your uncle’s succession to the throne! What will people say?” “With all due respect, Aunt Vivienne, I am no longer the Princess so it should not matter what people say.” Aunt Vivienne’s eyebrows rose. “Ah, yes,” she said, baring a sudden smile, “that reminds me; I don’t know whether you have heard but tonight my Isabel will be making her first appearance as the new Princess of Asinya!” I threw a sideways glance at Nan who rolled her eyes in annoyance. It seemed that Aunt Vivienne had finally reached the point she was most excited to discuss, the real reason why she had entered my quarters. She wanted to rub her daughter’s new title in my face. “That is wonderful news,” I said humbly. “I am pleased for her.” “Yes, we all are...” her cat-like eyes searched my face as though hoping to notice a glimmer of jealousy, but she found none. The reality was that I could care less that my fifteen year-old cousin now held the crown. My father’s death had robbed me from things far greater than a title. “She is so excited, bless her,” Aunt Vivienne continued to press on, “...very nervous too, mind you. The poor darling is anxious to see how the court will respond to her, but I told her...I said that you have nothing to worry about sweetheart, they will all love you, and I am right, of course, I mean, what is there not to like about my little angel?” I would have dearly loved to have laughed at that precise moment. The reality was that my younger cousin Isabel – known widely among the court for her dissolute and promiscuous living – was anything but a little angel. However, I felt it would be unwise to test Aunt Vivienne’s patience at such a time. Instead, a few seconds of silence passed between us only to be disturbed by the distant sounds of clattering china coming from downstairs. “Well then,” Aunt Vivienne suddenly clapped her hands together excitedly. “I shall see you down at the banquet. The Duke of Laon will be accompanying my Isabel, who will be escorting you? I could ask one of the servants, perhaps-” “That will not be necessary, madam,” interrupted Nan pointedly. “ I shall accompany the Lady Rose myself.” Aunt Vivienne flinched. “Very well...” she threw a sharp sideways glance at Nan before turning her gaze back on me. “Do not be late, Rosaline. Your uncle has invited many prominent and eligible suitors to introduce you to tonight and he will not be happy to find that you have kept them waiting...” I bowed in response and waited until Aunt Vivienne was safely out of my quarters before turning to Nan. “I don’t think I can do this...” I breathed. “It hasn’t even been a full day since my father’s death and instead of mourning his passing, I’m being forced to attend celebratory feasts and meet prospective husbands!” Nan reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. “I know how difficult this must be for you, my Lady...” she said, heavily. “I wish I could find a way of easing your pain, but I’m afraid I am just as helpless as you are.” She held the locket that now hung from my neck. “All you can do is be strong.” *** “THE LADY ROSALINE!” I slowly entered the Grand Hall that night with my hand in Nan’s and tried not to look disheartened as the royal court and guests, dressed in silk robes of grey and blue, broke out into frantic whispers as I passed them. “Ignore them,” muttered Nan quietly. I nodded and instead immersed myself in the sumptuously decorated hall. Teal and silver coloured drapes made from the finest velvet hung from the ceiling and gallery, thousands of ornate silver candles hung over two long mahogany tables where the guests and royal court would be seated. These tables were laid with glittering silver plates and goblets encrusted with blue topaz and pearls. I immediately noticed my cousin Isabel seated at the High Table at the top of the hall on a raised dais. She and her close gang of giggling ladies-in-waiting threw me smug glances upon seeing me enter. I looked away, hardly surprised by her behaviour. Isabel had always hated me, though to this day I still never understood why. My eyes moved to the centre of the High Table, and there, in the large golden throne that once belonged to my father, sat Uncle Maurice. I barely managed to take my seat before the royal guards stationed at the entrance of the chamber thumped their wooden canes to the floor twice silencing the Great Hall completely. The oak front doors immediately swung open, and all turned to look towards the direction. “MAKE WAY FOR HIS EXCELLENCY, KING FREDERICK OF GENEVERE!” The young king of Genevere entered the hall to much bows and curtseys from the admiring guests. He was dressed in an antique grey doublet, hose and matching jacket with bronze buttons and a thick fur collar, whilst on his neck sat his Chain of Royalty, encrusted with gems and pearls. He had short black hair standing slightly on end like tilted spikes and all the features of an Easterner, with his thin goatee, incredible height, olive-coloured skin, and unusually sharp green eyes. Following closely behind him were members of his Privy Council, dressed in all black with golden Chain’s of Office around their necks. They marched in silence with their king through the Great Hall towards the High Table where Uncle Maurice, Aunt Vivienne and Isabel stood ready to welcome them. “King Frederick seems handsome...and popular...” commented Nan, tilting her head towards the direction of the young women of the court, all of whom seemed to be battering their eyelids and fawning over the Genevere King. “He is also a pig,” I added with distaste. The king was no doubt handsome, but the daring look in his sharp green eyes and the long red scar upon his left brow revealed a more sinister side to him that I was all too aware of. Over the years I had heard many rumours about King Frederick of Genevere. I had heard that he was a rake, a womaniser who had bedded almost every lady of his court despite being the father of three young daughters. I had also heard that he was a tyrant who showed no mercy to those who opposed him, even going so far as killing his own brother-in-law on charges of treason, dragging, quartering and beheading him in the town square as an example for others to learn from. The most recent rumour, however, was that the king was under extreme pressure to produce an heir to the throne so that the line of succession could continue through his family, the Great House of Devere, and not through that of his much older cousin Lord Tybalt, from the Great House of Van Gard who already had an heir to his name. Suddenly, my eyes fell on a rather familiar looking olive-skinned young man standing behind King Frederick. “My Lady,” whispered Nan suddenly. “Isn’t that Tristan – Tristan Cavendish?” The young man in question had dark brown hair that reached his ears and curled slightly. He had a face that would make any girl catch her breath, and sharp green eyes that, unlike King Frederick, had a kind, yet playful look about them. He smirked as he met my gaze and I felt my cheeks suddenly flush. It was indeed Tristan. I watched as he joined his fellow Privy Councillors on the lower tables as King Frederick stepped up onto the raised dais where he was greeted enthusiastically by my uncle. After embracing one another, King Frederick immediately reached for his goblet and raised it high into the air. “Ladies and gentlemen of the court!” he addressed. “It is with great pleasure and honour that our two proud nations are gathered here today to celebrate the beginning of a new and prosperous era!” he turned to face my uncle and aunt. “To the new King of Asinya, King Maurice, and his beautiful wife Queen Vivienne, may your reign be a blessing to your nation and a mercy to your people. Long live the King!” There came a thunderous chorus of ‘Long live the King!’ before goblets were drained and the royal musicians entered the Great Hall to begin with the night’s entertainment. As the music began, I watched with inward disbelief as guests all around me laughed and drank with joy. It was as if my father had never existed. While more wine and bread were passed around, I looked up at the High Table again. Isabel was eagerly drinking from her goblet while Aunt Vivienne threw her looks of dismay. At the centre of the table, Uncle Maurice was in deep conversation with King Frederick. As the two toasted their goblets together, I was startled to see the Genevere King look passed the many guests and straight into my eyes. I lowered my head immediately, more out of fear than respect. As the night drew on, the intensity in King Frederick’s gaze upon me and the manner in which he and Uncle Maurice spoke with one another made me feel slightly uneasy. A thought suddenly crept into the back of my mind but I quickly dismissed it. Perhaps I was over-reacting, I told myself. There could be many reasons why Uncle Maurice had invited King Frederick to the banquet tonight, and many reasons why they both seemed to be having such a rigorous conversation with one another. Yet, I could not help but look upon them both with great anxiety, dearly hoping with all my heart that my Uncle was not doing what my heart was telling me he was. In order to keep my focus elsewhere, I reluctantly began to mingle with some of the suitors Uncle Maurice had assigned Lord Sébastian to introduce me to, exchanging small-talk in the hope of finding at least one prospective husband that didn’t seem so obnoxious. To my dismay I failed miserably. “...So, long story short...” smiled the young prince of Zanar, as he dramatically combed back his hair with his fingers, “...my perfect aim saved the day, and it was truly a perfect aim if I may say so myself...” I smiled, or at least attempted to do so, before moving on to the next prince, a rather stout one named Bartholomew from the Island of Mora who was at least three years my junior and who spoke to me with a mouthful of chicken. Nan, who had been standing beside me throughout the entire exchange, had looked at the Prince as though he was a revolting wart of some sort. “My Lady...” I suddenly turned to see Tristan standing before me. He lowered his head and placed a gentle kiss upon my hand, making the back of my neck burn, before giving Nan a brief but respective nod. “Your Grace...” Nan curtseyed, smiling slightly before whispering in my ear, “I shall be near the entrance if you need me.” Tristan waited until Nan was out of earshot before awkwardly clearing his throat. I found myself unable to hide the smile upon my face. He seemed to look so surprisingly shy in my presence. “You look... uh...taller...” he said finally. “As do you...” I smiled. He laughed, a boyish twinkle appearing in his eyes. “I would’ve said beautiful, but I deemed that it would be an inappropriate comment to make considering you’re a princess.” “I was a princess,” I blushed inwardly at his compliment, “My father’s death has reduced me to the title of ‘Lady’. My cousin Isabel now occupies the crown." He nodded sadly, before signalling towards the castle courtyard, “Could we take a walk?” “Of course...” Together we ventured out of the Great Hall and into the castle courtyard lit with flaming torches. “I was incredibly sorry to hear of your father’s passing,” Tristan continued. “King Théodore was a great leader and very much loved in our kingdom.” “Thank you,” I replied, noticing that out of the three hundred guests that had approached me that night with the same statement, Tristan had been one of the very few to say it with such a tone of sincerity that almost made it sound as though he cared. A few seconds of silence passed between us. “So, look at you,” I smiled, studying his golden Chain of Office. “I see it’s no longer Tristan Cavendish the troublemaker, but Tristan Cavendish the Duke of...” “Unis,” he smirked, his eyes twinkling. “Shocking, isn’t it? Especially considering the circumstances in which we last met.” “Do you mean at your parents anniversary when you got yourself drunk and interrupted my father’s toast?” Tristan sheepishly scratched his head. “Ah, you remembered...” “It was rather funny.” “For you, maybe, my father said that I desecrated the legacy of my forefathers.” “Well, I always knew you would do well in the end,” I smiled. Tristan nodded gratefully. “I know...” Aunt Vivienne suddenly appeared in the courtyard and hurriedly approached us both. “Rosaline, what on earth are you doing standing out here, your Uncle is calling for you!” she breathed impatiently. She suddenly spotted Tristan and flinched slightly. “Ah, Your Grace... lovely to see you again!” “Majesty,” Tristan bowed. I turned to him, half wishing I could stay to talk with him more. “Please excuse me...” “Of course,” he said, looking slightly disappointed. *** “Ah, there you are, Rose!” shouted Uncle Maurice rather excitedly as I approached the High Table. “How are you enjoying my celebratory feast?” “It has been thoroughly entertaining,” I lied. “Well, of course it has!” he roared. “It is my party, after all!” Lord Sébastian chuckled with him stupidly. “Come now,” pressed Uncle Maurice. “I want to introduce you to an extremely good friend of mine, the honourable King Frederick of Genevere...” he turned to face the Genevere king. “Frederick, allow me to introduce you to my niece, the Lady Rosaline.” “Majesty,” I curtseyed, avoiding his gaze. “Lady Rosaline,” smiled King Frederick, slowly stroking his goatee. For several seconds I felt his eyes scrutinise mine before he spoke again, “She has her mother’s blue eyes, Maurice...” he declared. My uncle responded with something of a smile. “May I express my deepest sympathy over the tragic news of your father’s passing,” King Frederick continued more solemnly. “King Théodore was a man whose death has robbed the world of a brave, merciful and virtuous leader.” I attempted a smile in thanks. “I must say...” he pressed. “Your Uncle mentioned to me before that you were charming, intelligent, and gracious - a true daughter of Queen Céline. What your Uncle failed to mention, however, was your beauty...” Suddenly, the trumpets were blown followed by sounds of violin and flute from the royal musicians. Guests began to cheer happily as they put down their goblets and one by one began leading their husbands and wives into the centre of the hall for some dancing. The Genevere king stood from his seat and took my hand. “My Lady, would you do me the honour of having this dance?” he asked. I felt my neck burn in fear and my heart race inside me. Uncle Maurice and Aunt Vivienne enthusiastically signalled for me to oblige, so, unwillingly and obediently, I did so. In the next moment, Frederick gently placed his hand around my waist and held the other in mine. From the corner of my eye, I could see Tristan, whose previously cheery gaze suddenly turned solemn, whilst the other women of the court began throwing me looks of deepest loathing. As we began to dance a sudden surge of thoughts entered my mind. Had King Frederick been watching me all this time because I was the niece of his friend, or did the manner in which he and Uncle Maurice speak together mean that there may have been a very different reason, a more catastrophic reason involved? In the moments that we danced together these thoughts began to run chaotically inside my head. Surely even Uncle Maurice wouldn’t agree to marry me to a man like King Frederick. I was his only niece, his last surviving relative, surely I deserved better. Yet the sinister smile on the face of Lord Sébastian suddenly made me think twice.... .................................................. links to other chapters http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic53716.html (chapter 1) http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic53800.html (chapter 3) http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic53888.html (chapter 4) http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/post616970.html (chapter 5) http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic54589.html (chapter 6) http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic55095.html (chapter 7) http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/post644335.html (chapter 8. http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/post652505.html (chapter 9. http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic59246.html (chapter 10.

Hi! Have I ever told you that I love your username? It's totally a username I would use, 'cause, hey! it's related to chocolate. And it sounds cool. (Meh, you probably have better reasons than me to use your username, haha.) Anyways...

*coco wrote:Since the demise of my father I had often thought of running away, perhaps to my mother’s homeland or in to a countryside somewhere with no castles, kings, or duties, where there were just tree’s and acres and acres of fresh green perfect land.

Insert commas in the last bit in bold.

*coco wrote:From the window of my dreary and lifeless quarters I took the time to look out onto the castle gardens below and watched red breasted robins as they gathered around one of the many water fountains for a drink.

For me, this sentence doesn't flow very well; especially the part in bold.

*coco wrote:It was within the ancient stone walls that he and my grandfather went on to become the sixteenth and seventeenth kings of Asinya.

The part in bold confuses me.

*coco wrote:It was here where my mother had died from the Great Plague, and where the memories of my childhood, filled with happiness and laughter resided.

*coco wrote:I’d perhaps add some glistening jewels to my neck and ears, and maybe even try something a little daring with my hair, but today trivial things such as how I looked did not seemed to matter anymore.

I like this sentence, especially the part in bold. It tells a lot about the MC's personality.

*coco wrote:Nan entered my chambers just in time to see me get to my feet.

“You look beautiful,” she smiled, affectionately tucking a loose curl behind my ear. “How are you feeling?”

I sighed. “All I want to do is curl up in my bed and cry.”

“I know...” she nodded sadly, before suddenly pulling out a familiar gold chain from inside her pocket. It had a heavy gold heart-shaped locket that had a crown at the top.

“My mother’s necklace!” I said elatedly.

Nan chuckled as I took it from her hand. “I had it fixed this morning by a jeweller friend of mine from the Northern towns. He is so very fond of you that he refused to take a single penny for his work.”

“Oh, thank you, Nan!”

“You’re welcome, my Lady,” she smiled. “Please, open it.”

This whole part made me smile. ^^

*coco wrote:I felt a tear run down my eye as I ran my finger across the paintings.

Lol, this sounds a bit weird to me. Perhaps say that the tear runs down her cheek instead, since when you say that she felt it run down her 'eye', I picture a tear running down her eyeball. xD

*coco wrote:She was dressed in a teal coloured gown detailed with tiny crystals with ornaments of shining pearls hanging from her neck and her long ebony black hair was drawn into a tight bun underneath her glistening royal crown.

Run-on sentence!

*coco wrote:Aunt Vivienne responded by throwing un-interested nods at the two of us before looking over my attire distastefully.

“You’re wearing black, dear?” she asked, confused.

“To mark my father’s death, madam,” I replied, unable to understand why she even needed to ask such a question.

“Well, I understand that, of course,” she said irritably. “But tonight’s banquet is to celebrate your uncle’s succession to the throne! What will people say?”

I can picture this whole scene perfectly in my head!

*coco wrote:Nan reached out and put a hand over my shoulder.

'Over'? Do you mean 'on'?

*coco wrote:I smiled, or at least attempted to do so, before moving on to the next prince, a rather stout one named Bartholomew from the Island of Mora who was at least three years my junior and who spoke to me with a mouthful of chicken. Nan, who had been standing beside me throughout the entire exchange, had looked at the Prince as though he was a revolting wart of some sort.

Overall:

This was very good, better than the last.

The most amazing thing is the connection you were able to establish with the reader by the second chapter! You make the reader feel involved, and as if he or she is actually part of the story. For example, when the new Queen was being a bit rude/ showing off/making Rosaline feel bad, I was going (in my head of course, I'm not that crazy :wink:

) GRRRRR, she's so rude! ^^ I actually cared about what was going on, and I actually felt bad for the MC.

Hope I helped!

~KD

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