Her Majesty, the Frailed Crown. CH1
Hello! Its been a long time. I am attempting to write a book so here it goes. whether this gets views or not I will still try my best to keep posting the chapters!!
Summary: A weakened young woman who they call Rowenine awakes in a castle with no memory of how she arrived yet an uneasy feeling that she belongs. In the castle there resides an ambiguous ruler called Prince Luek who she finds quite overbearing–appearing only when something feels wrong, as though he sees truths no one else will speak.Then there is the devoted Knight, Sir Rellik, who Rowenine tends to favor and spends most of her time in the castle with while he offers comfort as whispers of war ripple through the castle. As Rowenine's strength begins to falter in ways she cannot explain, she must navigate loyalty,fear, and a quiet sense that something within her world is not as it seems.
She woke slowly, as though surfacing from something she couldn't quite remember falling into. She fluttered her eyelashes before sitting up and adjusting her eyes to the sparkling pale light bleeding though the mesh window curtains
She inhaled deeply. She immediately noticed this breath did not come as easy. A strange tightness lingered in her chest.
Her head throbbed as thoughts collided together.
What kind of place is this? The room seemed to grow warmer with every unanswered question. Heat pressed against her skin. Sweat gathered at her forehead and behind her neck. Her breathing quickened. Slowly, she forced herself to calm down. Pressing her trembling hand against her temple before wiping the sweat from her brow. For a moment she thought she was going to pass out even though she had just woken up.
Silence returns… but only for a moment.
Whispers suddenly filled the air. Small whispers with different voices layered over one another in uneven pitches.. All repeating the same thing.
“...enine…” the voice whispers.
She began looking around in the air for the holder of the voices.
“Rowenine...” they whispered once more.
Her name. That was her name Rowenine. At least she could remember that. She finally calmed the rest of the thoughts and looked around the room she appeared in. She looked at her clothes that appeared to be a little outdated and washed of color. She grasped the quilted blanket she sat on and realized that it just so happens to have the shades of her favorite color. In fact the whole room- No– not just the room. The entire atmosphere seemed drenched in her favorite color. It was purple but not the purple that is bright and makes you squint your eyes to its boldness. No this room was filled with the purple that you see sometimes in storms or on a foggy night. At least that's what it reminds Rowenine of.
She finally stands up from the huge bed and takes a look around. She starts to make sense of the objects in the room now. Candlelight. Stone walls. She looked across the room and saw a decent sized oval shaped mirror hung above a vacant black wooden desk. As she glances its way she can't quite make out her face. Her reflection appeared smeared, almost unfinished.
“Maybe it's just dirty” She thinks.
Rowenine then starts walking to the mirror and it isn't until she is right up to it that she can make out her facial features.
“Have I always had such smooth skin?” She touched her warm, bronze toned skin with her finger tips. She looked herself in the eyes trying to see past the mirror but still only saw her deep blue eyes that almost appeared black staring back at her.
A brush. A brush sat next to her hand on the desk. Rowenine studied it. The handle curved in an unnatural smooth twist. At first glance it resembled polish wood,but the surface carried no grain in the faint candle light, only vague ivory ridges spiraling along it like frozen veins.
Rowenien hesitated before touching it. Lifting the strange brush carefully, turning it once in her hand before drawing it through her midnight colored mane.The bristles were surprisingly soft. Even though her hair was lengthy and tangled, the brush glided through it with ease. Once done brushing, she sets the brush back down in its resting spot. She slips her fingers through her thigh lengthed hair and is admiring the job the little eerie thing did. Then– she noticed the window light coming from out of the corner of her eye. She walks towards the arched window hoping to see where she is.
She lingered at the window ,her fingers brushing the cold gemstone like frame. The window appeared unfinished like it had been made to look at just not through. As she began to look out the paneless frame. A quiet dawn turning to night laid in the sky. She also noticed something a bit more astonishing. She looked down to see that she was dozens of stories above the ground.A ground that she assumes lurks below the sparkling fog.
“A castle.” She whispered, amazement slightly peaking through her voice. “I'm in a castle.”
The third knock arrived delayed, almost uncertain. Rowenine jumped at the sound of them on the timbered door. She scrambled across the bed and disappeared beneath the heavy quilts, dragging pillows around herself like a barricade. A creak in the door was heard as she peaked out the blanket ever so carefully. Something entered the room.From beneath the blankets she could make out only a shadow with two legs– yet each step rang with the sound of metal. The shadow and the metal noise started to get closer to the makeshift bunker Rowenine had made.
Multiple thoughts running through her head. It was starting to get hot under the quilt but she remained frozen trying to keep an eye on the noisy shadow. The metal footsteps stopped. Silence swallowed the room. Rowenine held her breath beneath the quilts, her pulse pounding so violently she was certain the creature could hear it. She felt a wave of discomfort knowing the creature was still out there.
Suddenly–A large hand tore the blankets away. She quickly recoiled to the back of the bed right up against the cold stone wall. Her breath, quiet but shaky. And more sweat began to run down her forehead onto the bridge of her nose. All she saw at first was the outline of a towering figure.Then, the figure spoke.
“My Lady.” The figure said. Its voice is low and heavy, though not harsh. After the endless whispers, hearing a voice that belonged to something real felt almost comforting.
The light from the curtains slowly crept across the figure. Then it began to shine revealing why it made such a loud clunky noise. Metal caught first– dull, dark, and heavy. Then it began to shape into some type of armor. It was a man. A man wrapped almost entirely in steele and a unique black leather. A helmet concealed most of its face, leaving only slivers of shadow where his features should be. After a few more glances Rowenine noticed the man also carried a sword at his side hidden in leather.
“A knight.” Rowenine breathed, wondering replacing her fear.
“My Lady?” The creature asked in confusement.
“You're a knight!” She said, her voice bright with sudden excitement. She had read many books with knights in them. Always dreaming of meeting one.Fear then disappeared from Rowenine herself as she got out of the corner of the bed to quickly crawl to the end of it, meeting where the knight stood. She quickly examined his features closer.
“My lady.” The knight began, attempting to speak but Rowenine's curiosity cut him short. She reached for his arms,inspecting the intricate details of the metal armor. Then she scooted closer, tilted her head to study his face. Most of it was hidden by the helmet– only fragments of his features visible through the shadowed metal. Even his cheeks were obscured but she barely could make out his eyes. Brown. Steady. Watchful.
“Turn this way.” Rowenien instructed.
“My Lady we really should–” He tried once more to speak but the words fell away as she remained focused entirely on him, as if he was the only thing in the room. Forgetting she was once afraid of him.
She turned him towards the light that came through the curtains. There she saw a ring of black around his pupils. They were swallowed by a deep reddish brown. Near the center lingered traces of a softer gold.
After examining him she then realized that she did not know who this man was or why he was calling her “My Lady.” She quickly began to back up.
“Who are you?” She asked, curiosity overtaking caution as she sat back on her knees atop the bed.
“My lady,” he said. “ I am Sir Rellik. The knight here in the castle. I am here to serve as your escort during your stay here at the castle.”
Once again, confusion lingered in her mind. She had no idea where she was, or what a Sir Rellik truly was.
He appeared… charming. But so are most troublemakers. Something so composed, so polite must be an arrow wrapped in silk.
She shifted back slightly from the knight, still seated on the quilted, drawing a quiet line of distance and boundary between them.
“Sir Rellik.” She said as she straightened her back and acted to dust off her shirt that covered her thighs. “Where am I?” She asked in a polite yet almost demanding way. He didn't give her a direct answer, instead he said, “My Lady. Please, grace the others here with your presence.” His voice carried a strange calm even if he did not answer the question. “Dinner has already been prepared. Your presence would honor the halls of this castle.” He gestures his hand towards garments laid neatly on the desk. “The maids have selected attire more suitable for this evening.
I shall return shortly. Then hopefully some of your questions I will answer.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment too long. As though reassuring himself she was truly there. He shut the door behind him and Rowenine carefully made her way to the clothes. They were beautiful. At least better than the rags she was wearing. In fact, after further inspection of the dress it was so beautiful in a way that almost unsettled her. Black lace climbed the long sleeves like smoke, while deeper crimson fabric wrapped around her torso beneath gold chains and jeweled embroidery. The dress ended with heavy layered red fabric flowing at the bottom. The black floral embroidery disappearing into the black gradient at the end. It looked royal. After Rowenine got the dress on, she admired its beauty in the mirror. She loved the way the fancy stitching appeared to sparkle. She really couldn't see herself in anything but clothing like this now that she was out of the old rags she had woken up in.
The time came for Sir Rellik to return. Three knocks. All following the same tune as the very first time she heard them. She didn't say a word and watched as the door slowly opened. The knight, the same creature that she had feared as a shadow creature, stood fully formed in the steel and leather he had first been seen in earlier, now lingering in the doorway.
“My Lady,” he said softly. “If you are ready we shall make our way to the dining room.”
Rowenien hesitated a moment, getting one last look at her in the beautiful dress, but eventually made her way out the door. Was she crazy? Allowing a strange man to escort her through a strange castle? Possibly. But curiosity got the better of her.
The halls of the castle were surprisingly quiet. She brushed her hand along the walls feeling the cold stone as her and the knight walked the long path. Their footsteps echoed. His a steady, heavy rhythm, of metal. Hers lighter, uncertain.
She began to say something but suddenly, there they were again. The whispers. She paused in her footsteps and Sir Rellik quickly paused after.
“Do you hear that?” she asked. A small panic quickly took over her body.
Sir Rellik did not look at her. Instead he adjusted his feet and began moving forward slightly as if guiding her attention forward.
“Only what is expected in these halls.” He spoke softly.
Once again not a direct answer. She noted this but met back up with his pace. As they walked through the long gemmed halls, Rowenine's eyes wandered along some of the stone that appeared to have a purple vine growing through some of the golden cracks. The vine appeared to move. She quickly jolted her hand back into her own company. An interesting plant.
No words spoken for a good distance.
“So… this is a castle.” She asked at last.
“Yes.” Sir Rellike replied without any hesitation. She hummed softly, now looking upward.
“A castle.” She repeated as if testing the word itself.
“Interesting.” She murmored. “So a castle like this–”
“My Lady,” Sir Rellik finally glances her way, stopping her mid sentence with a question of his own. “Is there something specific you would like me to clarify?”
“I suppose I'm just trying to understand… if this truly is a castle.” She quickly came up with a question. “Does it have a ruler?”
A moment passed but soon followed his answer.
“Oh.” She tilted her head. “Whats their name?”
“Wille he be joining us?” She asked.A brief pause filled the air.
“I do not know.” He said at last. “I suppose not. He was not prepared for something like this. “
Rowenine frowned slightly.
Sir Rellik kept his gaze forward as they walked. “It is best not to dwell on uncertain things, My Lady.” he commented as if he knew what was on her mind.. “Some things unfold as they are meant to. In.. unexpected ways.”
Rowenine studied him for a moment, swearing he saw the corner of his lips move slightly upwards.
The walk to dinner felt like forever. Down halls. Down stairs. Rowenine felt like her feet were going to fall off. As they walked, no more words were spoken for a good while. That's when she heard more whispers. This time though, they didn't feel like the empty voices she had heard earlier. This time she was able to spot two more figures lurking in a door frame's shadow from down a lone hall off to the side. Both of the figures appeared small, almost child size.
“Thats her.” One of the small figures whispered.
“Shhhh.” The other one quieted her.
Maybe she was too far but their faces also appeared to be faded into the shadows as well but it was also late at night. Hard to see so far. It almost eased her uneasy feeling knowing that she was not alone in this castle with a strange knight and an unknown prince. Knowing that this could in fact be a kingdom with subjects. She slowed her pace to attempt to wave at the shadows but was interrupted by Sir Rellik's voice. “Just up ahead, My lady. The dining room.” He gave a quick glare at the shadow figures and they dispappered into the room they lingered out of.
The huge double doors to the dining room opened by themselves. As the doors opened it revealed a circular room with walls of a deep purple and black gradient. Almost appearing as polished amethyst. Slivers of gold between the cracks and of course the breathing vines making an appearance here and there. A massive round table with many purple cushioned seats sat at the center beneath the high ceiling that housed a mural above. What appeared to be two species of winged creatures with human appendages hiding their faces with cloth and weapons. Weapons that clashed beneath a celestial glow in the dark sky. A thousand golden stars watching in the dark sky as they fought. But why?
Three towing arched windows also made an appearance along the gemed wall. Their deep purple curtains hang heavily against the stone floor. Outside the glass was a dark night with more pale mist.
As Rowenine stepped further into the room she took notice of the people who stood silently along the walls in their dark uniforms and tall hats. Hands folded neatly before them as if they had been waiting long before she arrived. None of them spoke. None of them moved.
The whole room was beautiful, but in a way that unsettled her. Like a place designed for glorious ceremonies she did not remember attending.
Sir Rellik made his way to the table and pulled out one of the many purple cushioned chairs gathered around the table and gestured for Rowenine to take a seat. She did, but still not looking away from the mural she was marveling at.
“Time to feast.” His voice woke her from the trance the room had on her. He lifted one hand in a slow, conducting motion toward the servants lining the walls.
A set of tall curved doors Rowenine had not noticed before hiding between servants suddenly opened. Warm light spilled from within as more uniformed people emerged in silence, each carrying polished silver trays balanced carefully in gloved hands.
The smell reached her first.
Roasted meats glazed in sauces that shimmered beneath the candlelight. Colorful fruits split open like jewels. Pastries dusted delicately with sugar. Vegetables prepared so beautifully they hardly looked real. Dish after dish covered the table. Yet despite the abundance, Rowenine noticed something. No soups. No broths. Nothing warming or healing. Only extravagant foods that seemed to be prepared just for the sole purpose of admiration. She pushed the silly thought to the back of her mind.She watched as the tall-hatted people moved with eerie precision around the table. Overlapping each other placing each dish on the table.
Last came the flowers. The centerpiece. A servant approached carrying a tray of arrangements for the center of the table. He elegantly placed the florals on the table and with just the right amount of force and pushed it to the center of the table. Rowenine watched as it barely made a sound as it glided to its spot and rested. The tray consisted of deep crimson roses, pale lilacs lilies, and only one black tulip. The bouquet was beautiful, but almost mournful.
When the final tray had been placed the servants retreated once more to the walls in perfect silence. Behind her, Sir Rellik remained standing. Straight-backed. Arms crossed neatly behind him. Watching.
Every chair surrounding the massive table remained empty. Rowenien glanced slowly around her.
“So… no one else is coming?” Her voice echoed farther than it should have.
Sir Rellik's expression did not change. “Not tonight.”
“But all of this…” She gestured towards the feast before her, “ For one person?”
“You should eat, My Lady”
That answer settled nothing. Still, she began to eat. The quiet pressed harder against her ears as she picked at the food. Fork against porcelain became the loudest sound in the room. After a moment she looked back at him.
“You’ve been standing there this entire time. Aren't you hungry?”
She frowned and lifted a small plate toward him anyway. “You can have some.”
For the first time since dinner began, he moved. One leather-gloved hand lifted between them, palm outward in a calm, almost rehearsed refusal.
Rowenine slowly lowered the plate back to the table. The candles flickered. As she ate she gazed at the arched windows.
Eventually after she had her share, a chair scraped softly against the marbled floor as Rowenien began to rise from the table.
Her sleeve caught the stem of a glass she had not noticed sitting near the edge. It tipped and sparkling crimson liquid spilled in a sudden wave before splashing against the front of her dress. Rowenien gasped and stepped back.
“Oh– I'm sorry, I didn't mean–”
Before the glass had even finished rolling, Sir Rellik lifted two fingers. The servants moved instantly. Not startled. Not hurried. Several glided forward in silence, blotting the spill with folded cloths. One servant knelt at Rowenine's side to dab carefully at the stained fabric while another picked up the glass and wiped it clean.
“ I'm so sorry,” Rowenine repeated,mortified. “I didn't even see it there.”
Sir Rellik did not acknowledge the apology. Not once. Instead his gaze settled calmly on the dark stain spreading across her gown.
“Come. Let's get you out of those clothes.” The words were gently yet firm. “I am certain the maids have already laid out something more comfortable for you to sleep in.”
Rowenine opened her mouth again, still trying to apologize, but he continued before she could.
“Tommorow,” He said guiding her out of the dining room, “Perhaps some of your many question you have I may be able to answer."
As she exited the room she looked back at the servants cleaning the table in total silence. As though an interruption had never happened. She wondered what would happen to all the leftover food. So much leftover food. Was it to be wasted? Discarded as though those who prepared it meant nothing? She wondered.
The walk back to her chambers felt shorter somehow. A soft echo of their footsteps followed through the dim corridors. When the doors to her room finally opened, Rowenine stopped in mild surprise.
Of course the clothes were already waiting.
Folded neatly across the end of her bed sat a pale pink sleep set. An oversized shirt with delicate frilled sleeves and a soft ruffled neckline. It was aired with matching shorts. Beside them rested a silver tray with fresh water and a single candle already lit. Everything was prepared before she had even arrived. As though the castle knew where she would be next.
Rowenien slowly crossed the room toward the bed, fingers brushing lightly on the fabric. Behind her, Sir Rellik remained near the doorway.
“I hope,” he said quietly, "your first night here with us at the castle was not entirely unpleasant.”
She turned to look at him. “ There's still so much you haven't explained.”
Sir Rellik remained quiet. Rowenine then continued. “You promise you’ll keep your word? You'll answer my questions tomorrow?”
For a moment, only silence answered her.. Then-
“My lady,” he replied smoothly, “you are tired.”
The reply tightened frustration in her chest, but exhaustion weighed heavier. Slowly she nodded as she sat on the bed with the now dried stain on her dress. The doors began to close between them. Almost shut.
Rowneine paused and looked back. Sir Rellik stood unmoving in the frame. One hand resting lightly against the door frame. His expression remained calm. He then began to speak.
“ A princess should never apologize.”
Then the doors closed gently between them, leaving Rowanine alone in the castle once more. That sentence alone is the only thing she clung to to keep company.
She placed the stained dress over a chair by the desk, slipped into her sleepwear, and began to drift into sleep once more.
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