Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ To Overcome ❯ A birthday celebration ( Chapter 1 )

The banquet was a mess of dancers and entertainers, of low tables covered in food and cushion seats, of flickering firelights and slowly beating drums, of squirming heaving bodies and the shifting of soft gossamer cloth.

It was a revellers heaven, the banquet of the year, to honour the princes' twenty-first birthday. They sat upon a large dais raised by two steps form the rest of the drunken revelry, surrounded by billowing curtains of sheer cotton, and sitting upon low wooden thrones surrounded with many brightly coloured and rich cushions.

Their father sat on the dais above them, separated from the squanderers and drunken partiers by paper screens, the sounds of his advisors muttering and quarrelling hardly noticeable among the deafening noise from the party.

There was a sudden loud ringing of the imperial gong, signalling the emperor's immanent appearance, and the boisterous crowd grew still and silent, waiting in reverence.

"Her majesty, high priestess of Gizemnur, queen of Damzeer, princess of the five islands, holder of the tome of death, empress of holiness, her worship, Ashleen Ghumdeer."

A rustle of heavy fabrics and the tinkering of jewellery announced the arrival of their mother and wife to the emperor; she stood just without the paper screen dividing the emperor's dais from those of the more common folk.

"His majesty, high priest of Ozlem, ruler of Damzeer, prince of the seven waters, holder of the flame of life, emperor of peace, his worship, Jorg Ghumdeer." The emperor's crier called out the accolades of his high lord prior to his elegant appearance.

The emperor took hold of his empress's hand and led her to her spot, left of her youngest son, Najja, and then lowered himself beside her. Usually he would sit at the uppermost seat, but that was his eldest son's honour tonight, the crown prince, Akil Ghumdeer.

"In honour of their highness' twenty-first birthday, I now call forth the common peoples with their gifts," the crier cried aloud to the once writhing swarm of revellers.

Over the space of the next hour the seven cities brought forth their 'commoner' gifts, silks and rubies from Dalmaria, diamonds and iron from Alyzer, grain and wine from Haellfyn, horses and cavalry trappings from Wilmergricht, rare birds from Aeylaern, gold and precious metals from Forock, and the deeds to a lavish house-boat from the sea-port city of Mirrport.

Then the noble families stepped forward and offered their many gifts of priceless trinkets and rarities, and then the princes' younger siblings.

Finally the emperor stood.

"My sons, tonight we honour you. On this night twenty-one years ago you were born, separated by only ten minutes, your births brought great joy to this kingdom as will your crowning on the 'morrow; but behind every great man is a greater woman…" Jorg let his sentence trail off, and motioned for the rear guard to open the hall doors.

The doors were nearly three stories high and required twelve men to open, six on either side.

A precession entered the room and made their gaudy way across the large room, at the back surrounded by foreign guard was a litter carried on the backs of gold painted slaves. The litter stopped at the bottom of the dais. The curtains parted and one of the strangely dressed guards held his hands out for the passenger.

Akil held his breath, was this what he thought it was? Had his father married him off without his consent? He fiddled with one of the golden tassels hanging from the corners of his cushion; at the moment he was too drunk to really care.

Najja stared straight ahead, one would have though by his solemn expression that he was proper and poised like a prince should be, but really he was doing his best to sleep with his eyes open. He had nearly mastered the art, apart from the occasional snore and drool leaking from the corner of his pouting lips, if the people thought him solemn and studious, let them.

Akil had kept him up most of the night with his excited chatter, 'in twenty-seven hours,' he had said, 'we will be crowned joint rulers, just think of it Naj'!' Najja was trying not to think about it.

The prospect of even joint ruling the kingdom had never sat comfortably with him, he was a free spirit and wished to do his own things, but as a king he would have no such luxury, he would be forced to sit through meaningless tactical meeting for the sake of his country. He had started learning to sleep with his eyes open the day he found out about the endlessness of congress and war games.

And so it was with a jerking start that he woke when he heard is father bellowing his name so that the entire room could hear.

"Najja! I give you the eldest daughter of the Celtic king Kian, this is Aislin."

Najja blinked a few times trying to spread some much needed moisture across his dry eyeballs. There, kneeling in front of him was a basically naked female, her only covering was the elaborate jewellery and paint she wore.

The crowd cheered deafeningly as Najja swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, he turned to Akil, only to see him enthralled with his own 'princess', apparently Akil had already been given his gift. Bewildered beyond belief he somehow remembered his court etiquette.

"Thank you father," he droned in a voice thick with the last hours sleep. Damn, what did I miss?

*~~~*

Aislin sat perfectly still at her new lords feet, he had seemed to be sleeping with his eyes open when she had been presented to him, and had only started awake when his father had yelled his name.

He was a very handsome prince, and for that she was grateful; he had long, sleek black hair, brown eyes rimmed with long lashes and kohl, a long sloping nose and pouting lips, high cheekbones and an elegant jaw.

But perhaps his beauty was only skin deep, one could never tell just by a glance, and a glance was all she was allowed as she had been instructed by one of the emperors advisors, in a stuttering and hellishly pronounced version of her native tongue, to keep her eyes on his feet.

So Aislin spent the better part of the evening staring at the young lord's feet, they were well cared for, another thing she was grateful of, if they had been brown, dirty and as crooked as her brother's feet, she would have surely died of horror and disgust; but in fact this prince seemed to be outwardly perfect and she found her eyes sneaking glances up to the rest of his body.

After about an hour her legs began to tingle with lack of blood from her kneeling position and so she decided to risk a beating, and look up at her new lord. He was sleeping again, this time though his eyes had actually closed and his head had lolled to the side.

No one seemed to notice them, the partiers seemed too interested in their own drunkenness to care much about what the princes and their new wives were doing. She knew she had been gifted as a bride to the young lord, she had known her whole life that this day would come, and once more she found herself grateful; at least he was not old.

She turned her head ever so slightly to catch sight of her younger sister, only to see her writhing steadily upon the older prince's lap; her mouth engaged by his and her hands buried in his snake like hair, the style was common among her people as they had tendencies to more barbaric ways of living.

She quickly turned her head back to her lord's feet, her heart suddenly in her stomach; she would be expected to carry out those duties. Whether rational or not, fear rose within her and caused her breath to hitch, it was commonly known among her people that women had two purposes, pleasuring their men and bearing children, neither of which, he mother had told her, would be very satisfying.

After a few minutes the pain in her legs managed to drown her fear momentarily and she reached out a tentative hand to touch her lord's leg, just below the knee.

"Father! I wish to retire to my rooms." The large hall immediately stilled at the call from the high prince, none daring to move whilst their worshipped royals spoke.

"Then wake your brother, both of you sleep well tonight," he chuckled and gave his son a suggestive look when he noted the younger princess's position in his lap. "You have a busy day tomorrow, and an even busier week."

The high prince nodded to his father then stood and kicked his brother's leg, mere inches from Aislin's head. "Wake up," he whispered just as Najja jumped and made a sort of gasping snort.

"I was awake," he drawled holding his chin high. Akil snorted un-daintily, took Cairine's hand in his own and made his way down the dais and across the room, three guards in his wake.

Najja tried to suppress a yawn, and it made his face skew strangely, he stood and kissed his mother on the cheek, "Good night mother," he nodded to his father, "Father." He then walked gracefully down the same path his twin had taken, completely forgetting his 'present'.

Aislin stood stiffly, unnerved by her noisy jewellery, she had to be careful how she moved or risk being exposed. Finally she stood tall and straight, her long, light red hair covering more skin that her 'clothes' did, she raised her chin but kept her eyes low to the floor and followed her lord.