Kingdoms

Chapter 1 - Aureila

Aureila - The Capital.

King Andrea, sitting on his golden thrown, picks up his beautifully ornate letter opener, ordained on the handle with a golden eagle the sigil of his house. He pauses to look at the letter, turning it over in his hand to take note of the mark upon the seal, stamped with the mark of a polar bear reared up on it's back legs, it's teeth bared in a menacing snarl.

The letter comes from Lord Rueben Bannatyne, his most trusted Lord and friend from the Frostguard lands. It's yet another letter of sympathy for his loss, although this one he can be sure is genuine. Rueben has proved his loyalty time and time again.

The king tosses the letter aside, regardless of who it is from the words mean nothing to him. How could they? What can words do when the love of his life is now lost to him. Dead. Gone. Words have no meaning at all. His sweet Queen Eleanor is no more.

The door clicks open, the kings daughter Princess Emillea, the spitting image of her mother, sheepishly crosses the length of the throne room towards him. He barely raises his head to look at her. He cannot help it, young she may be, but still she looks too much like his beloved Eleanor that it is too painful to stand it. She kneels at his feet, placing her litter hand in his and squeezes it with all her little might.

The King ignores her squeeze, and also her, knowing if he so much as looks at her, he will break. A King can not break. Least of all a king of eight kingdoms. Now is when they will all be looking for weakness. Now is a time he can not let anything show. So instead he sits motionless, staring ahead at the painting on the wall infront of him, it had been Eleanor's favourite. A painting of the golden fields of wheat bordering their kingdom as seen from the view of the balcony in the Queen's suite. The morning light making them shimmer like real gold.

Eventually Princess Emillea stands, the room has grown ever darker with the fading light, Night has arrived. She squeezes the kings hand one last time, before padding across the floor back out the way she came. Leaving the King alone again.

Finally when the room is fully cast in the darkness of the night, not even the moonlight has worked it's way in this night. The King stands, crosses the long length of the great hall, he turns looking back to where he came from, good, the room is so entirely cloaked in the dark he can not see his throne or the one next to it, destined to sit empty now it's occupant is dead. He didn't think he could stand to look at it now, knowing that. Turning back to the door, he leaves and enters the long corridor heading for the stairs up to his chambers.

At the top of the staircase, before he can stop himself his legs carry him to the right, the opposite side to his chambers, heading instead to the Queen's Suite. He knows not why, but he can not stop himself until he is right outside the door, he pauses resting his head on the door in longing for his Queen. A baby crying snaps him back to his mind. He follows cry to the room on the left hand side to the Queen's suite.

The door is slightly ajar, the room empty apart from a cry in the crib that's centre in the room. The king pushes the door open, striding towards the crib. He stares down at the newborn. A boy, wriggling under the blanket wrapping him, nose scrunched up in a cry. Disgust fills the king as he stares down at the baby. The thing that killed his beloved wife. He should be happy, celebrating another son with his wife, making his total count of children at four boys and a girl. But instead this thing killed her.

The wet nurse enters then, shock at seeing the king before her evident on her face. "Your majesty". She says as she curtses as low as she can go. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to disturb you" she adds. The king turns and heads back towards the door, but pauses when the wet nurse speaks again "Your majesty, would you like to hold the new Prince?. As if he could ever hold any affection for the thing that cost him Eleanor. He carries on as if he never heard her, back to his own chambers. He can mourn this night only and then tomorrow it's time to show he's still King.

The vultures would be circling he knew, on the morrow they would come flocking. Giving advice, seeking to provide false comfort, maybe even pushing daughters his way hoping he might marry one of them and advance their families. Unbearable is what it will be. The King undresses, his mind focused on the torture he knows will follow, climbing into bed he stares at the canopy above him, he must sleep tonight, he will need all his wits tomorrow to calculate who is well wishing and who wants a slice of power.

Sleep evades him though, thoughts of Eleanor creep in, her beautiful face, her golden hair, soft and gentle curls framing her delicate porcelain skin, her voluptuous curves that fit against him so perfectly, his equal in every way. He pulls the rope next to his bed and a soft chiming bell rings out, sending his chamber boy in. "Yes, your majesty?" The boy around fifteen and eager to please says. "Fetch me a sleep aid from the healer boy, for sleep is difficult this night" the king grumpily tells the boy sending him scurrying away.

He returns a few minutes later with a small vial containing a soothing looking purple liquid. The King downs it at once the gentle taste of lavender flower sending a soothing tingle through his body. His mind beginning to quiet quickly until a final image of his beloved wife fills his mind before he drifts off to sleep.