As always, have at it!
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Legends
Book One: Casting the Crown
Chapter Two
-xxxXxxx-
Smoothing down the unruly curls of her hair in frustration, Eona looked up as she approached the end of the corridor. Two armed guards stood on either side of the heavy wooden doors, visors raised and eyes held high as they gripped their decorative long spears.
As she neared, Eona immediately caught sight of a young boy, garbed in pale green, slouching inattentively against the stone wall to the left of the doors. When he looked up at the sound of muted feet he nearly choked, and Eona could not hide the grin that spread across her full lips as he hurriedly snapped his lackadaisical posture to attention. "Lady Trinity!" He exclaimed, dipping his head in an unusually low bow. When her emerald eyes flickered to the hint of red creeping steadily across his cheeks, her grin widened.
With a delicate hand resting loosely on a cocked hip, Eona narrowed her eyes in a mock-serious tone. "With such an unexpected greeting, I trust you haven't neglected to mention my arrival to his Lordship?"
The anxious boy shook his head vigorously, messy mop of blond hair bobbing to and fro with the motion. "No, milady! He expects you presently!" He tugged at the hem of his tunic, eyes trained at her barely concealed feet—more specifically, at the leather boots she chose to wear. "He awaits you outside, on the balcony."
Shaking her head at the blunt delivery, Eona dropped her hands and stepped towards the young pageboy, her grin never faltering. "I was only asking in jest, you silly boy," she admitted, bending over to ruffle his hair and laughing quietly at his surprised blush. 'It's far too easy to alarm him,' she surmised, amusement twinkling in her gaze.
"Aye, milady," he whispered, his face reddening even more at her amused giggle.
Deciding it best to cease the boy's embarrassment before his face permanently adopted the red blush, Eona straightened her posture and turned to look reluctantly at the doors before her, any sign of delight vanishing from her features as quickly as it came. "Well, I suppose we mustn't keep his Lordship waiting any longer." She glanced down at the boy; his blush was nearly gone now, though traces of it were still evident. "Shall we, then?"
The pageboy nodded, grinning as he turned and gave three short, precise claps in the direction of the two guardsmen. Eona noted the small sense of pride that washed over his features as the armored men complied, and when he turned his gaze back in her direction Eona tried to return the sincerity of his smile, but it felt empty in light of what awaited just beyond the open doors.
'To the mindless barbarity that Sternhelm indulges itself in,' she thought bitterly as they stepped into the brilliance of the afternoon sun. 'May it end swiftly.'
-xxxXxxx-
"Announcing the arrival of Lady Eona Trinity," the young escort called out, stepping to the side as Eona entered the viewing box after him. Eona spared a quick glance over her shoulder as the wooden doors groaned shut, swallowing the retreating pageboy from view, before she turned back around, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. There was no escape now.
The box, as it were, was not very big. At top capacity, the small balcony accommodated six people, and only three of them would be seated in the ornate cushioned chairs that overlooked the arena from behind the protective stone banister. A large, overhanging canopy protected the occupants from any falling unpleasantries, rain being the worst of them, that would otherwise hinder their enjoyment of the outdoor events below.
Looking around, Eona noticed that the box was nearing its limit. Aside from herself, there were two armored guards, one stationed at each of the covered balcony's farthest corners—if they dared a peek over the banister, they had a perfect view of the battles below. Clutched tightly in their silver gauntlets were elegant long spears; orange cloth wrapped their length, spiraling steadily upwards until just below the deadly spearhead, where the cloth tapered out into a flying banner.
Eona studied one of the banners for a moment as it fluttered in the warm breeze. Although bright orange would not have been her color of choice for House Trinity, and consequentially the region of Sternhelm, she did admit that it complimented the silver lances rather nicely. The cloth banner straightened for a second, and the redhead caught a brief glimpse of the black crest in its center: a rearing lion, fore claws lashing out in frozen combat and three-pronged tongue slithering forward between open jowls.
Again, she would have preferred a more creative insignia, but the roaring lion had served as an adequate crest for several generations.
"Eona!"
At the sound of her name, Eona turned her attention to the three chairs erected just behind the banister—several House Trinity banners, spun of silk instead of cloth, hung just off the other side of the stone railing, flapping lazily in the wind.
Her lips curved into a genuine smile as a pair of scrawny arms wrapped themselves tightly around her midsection. Green eyes glimmered in delight as they trailed down to the mop of unruly brown hair pressed against her belly. "Albear!"
The head of hair rolled back to reveal twinkling blue eyes, soft brown-speckled cheeks, and thin lips spread so wide that it looked almost painful. "How is my favorite little brother?" Eona questioned, stooping down to wrap her slender arms around the boy's shoulders in a warm embrace.
Albear's nose wrinkled as a confused expression contorted his boyish features. "Aren't I your only brother, though?"
Eona straightened her posture and reached down to ruffle his brown tresses, a soft giggle rumbling in her throat when he batted away her hand in protest. "I certainly hope so," she started with a smile, and Albear looked up expectantly. "I can hardly keep up with your mischievous exploits! I doubt I could handle as much from another."
The young boy's lips stretched out into a smug grin as he took her words for a compliment, and Eona playfully pinched his cheeks. "Ow!" Albear rubbed his freckled cheeks, narrowing bright blue eyes at his elder sister. "That wasn't a compliment, silly." Her green eyes twinkled in mirth as the boy stuck out his pinkish tongue, button nose scrunched up in a mock-serious manner.
"Terrorizing the young scoundrel again, are we, Eona?" The familiar low rumble caught her ear, and Eona turned her attention to the cushioned chairs before her with a weary sigh. "Only when the little rascal has it coming, father." That elicited a deep, guttural laugh from one of the decorative chairs, and Eona twitched her lips into a meek smile.
She felt the sudden focus of blue eyes trained intently upon her and glanced down.
Albear had one eyebrow cocked in curiosity, but apprehension was scrawled on his features. Eona wanted to roll her eyes at his evident concern, but instead she flashed him a smile and reached down to grasp his hand. It was no secret that she and Lord Azir often disagreed on a number of things, and their disputes typically resulted in raised voices and heated arguments, the aftermath of which usually concluded in flared tempers and misdirected anger at the expense of those who surrounded them.
'No,' Eona thought as she reflected on past arguments they had endured. Many of them had been minor quarrels; harmless parries of differing views and stern reason that were quickly resolved and ended without any lingering resentment. But there were the precious few that had sent both her father and herself stomping off in a boiling fury, and for days after the dispute a black cloud of aversion hovered above their heads, striking down anyone who dared cross their path with enraged, white-hot lightning. 'No, Albear will not suffer through another one of our pointless quarrels.' Eona gave his hand a soft pat as if to confirm her good intentions, and the boy offered her a small reassured grin.
Countless witnesses to her raging temper would deem her stubborn-headed, as the Trinity house was infamously known for being, but Eona fancied to think of herself as a free-spirited woman of Delzengar merely holding her own in a battle of opinions. Still, she would not subject her younger brother—Albear, who has never raised his voice or snorted in anger at anyone in all his fourteen years—to another exchange of heated words. Once was more than enough, and Albear had tearfully detested seeing his father and sister squabble so fervently before. She would not be the reason he would do so again.
"Come now, my children. Join your father in the glory of today's match!" The deep growl sliced through Eona's thoughts as if they were made of butter, and every muscle in her body tensed for a split second. She hated being called a child; she was nearly twenty-one now! 'Not like you're treated as such,' she scoffed inwardly at the bitter truth of that thought.
When Albear and Eona did not jump immediately at his call, the next sentence that was barked out was more of a command than a fatherly suggestion: "Come hither!"
She felt a gentle pressure on her hand—a warning from the younger boy—and slowly exhaled, allowing her muscles to relax. She decided to allow the mishap to slide without any indignant rebuttal. 'By the Firstborn, I hope there won't be any more,' she thought glumly as she allowed Albear to tug her towards the three chairs overlooking the arena. 'I'm not certain if I can stay my tongue for too long.'
The chairs, Eona noted as she approached them, were of hand-carved mahogany. Intricate patterns of twisting ivy vines, fierce dragons and noble griffins decorated the sides and legs of the dark wood; the rearing lion crest was carved into the center of the backs and a plush purple cushion, made of fine velvet, was placed on the seats of each chair, as well.
Albear released his grip on Eona's hand as he wove behind the chairs to settle into the one on the far side from where they stood, to the right of their father. Then, taking a deep breath and smoothing down any visible creases in her pale blue dress, the young redhead claimed the only other vacant chair available—the one to her father's left.
As she sat down, Eona glanced out over the edge of the balcony. With the way the decorative banners were whipping around, as if trying to break free of the poles that held them secure, and the way the red sand rose up from the arena floor as if to blot out the golden sun before battering back to the earth below, Eona guessed that it was quite windy outside.
'Such a bitter day for a fight,' she thought, rolling her eyes at the whoops and guffaws that filled the stagnant air around her.
Shading her eyes from the glare of the sun, Eona scanned the vast arena, catching a brief glimpse of the few townspeople that had paid for admission to the day's event—some with folds of cloth covering their mouths and others who decided to brave the windstorm, all spaced out comfortably in the tiered stone interior, eagerly awaiting the start of the next battle. 'Badala prisoners, if I know my father.' Eona snorted; she was all too familiar with these games.
Focusing her attention back to the luxury of the box, Eona noticed the thin transparent sheet, tied down securely to the railing, that encased the open spaces between the canopy and the balcony and kept the violent sands at bay. 'Ah, the comforts of nobility,' she thought, though she found it hard to complain when a strong gust of wind tossed handfuls of sand at the protective shroud, only to have it bounce off of the sheet in vain.
Growing immensely uncomfortable with the heavy silence that befell the box, Eona turned her attention to the chair next to her, lips parted as if she were about to speak. Upon seeing her father's focused expression, however, any present thought that she was about to voice fluttered from her mind. Closing her mouth, she smoothed the front of her dress as soft green eyes studied the man beside her.
One of the six ruling Nobles of Delzengar, Lord Azir Trinity of Sternhelm governed his province with an iron fist and a decisive tongue. A remarkably tall, broad shouldered man, Eona always remembered him to be an imposing figure with a hot temper and a deep, commanding voice to match. 'You would know all too well about the Trinity temper, wouldn't you?' She sighed, shaking her head as she recalled numerous occasions where his lordship had lashed out in rage, and many more incidents where she had been the cause of such anger.
But as she examined him closer, Eona was nearly surprised to see gray streaks peppered into the black of his neatly trimmed beard; the wavy black tresses that curled around his face and beneath the plain, unadorned silver crown that sat comfortably on his head were no better off. His piercing green eyes, constantly blazing with a passionate fire as Eona remembered them to be, now seemed to barely glimmer in the filtered rays of the midday sun.
'A trick of the light,' she reasoned, but that excuse failed to explain how so many wrinkles had managed to crease her father's jaw and forehead as if his entire face had been soaking in hot water for too long, or why, despite his tall and powerful frame, he seemed so gaunt and frail amidst the dark wood of his cushioned chair. And what was more, he looked incredibly. . . tired.
"Is there something on your mind, love?" The deep voice snapped Eona out of her thoughts, and Lord Azir turned his aging head away from the arena below to meet his daughter's inquisitive gaze. "Or are you trying to burn holes in my side?"
