Swords & Dragons

Eliezra's P.o.V

To those who fought against him on the battlefield, my father was known as “Prince James the Brutal”. For those alongside him, he was called “Prince James the Mighty.” I had the immense pleasure and luck to be able to call such a great man my Papa, and he was the wisest person I have ever known.

When the Great War broke out almost forty years ago, my father fought alongside my people as a soldier. He was drilled like a warrior and took orders from generals who, at any other point, would have asked him what he believed should be done with a situation and considered their demands to him a sign of treason. But my father believed that just because he was a king did not mean that he should sit back when his kingdom was in danger. His family – my family – rose to the throne not only for our wisdom, but for our skills as fighters. If a king cannot fight, why should he expect his people too? Likewise, my father stood firmly that each man was equal in the grave, so that did not give him an excuse to use his living profession as a means to escape his duty. To that end, he passed on all his royal duties to my mother, who stood alongside the women as a figurehead of hope. She was fearful of her husband’s death too, and a lack of children for a good many years left an undercurrent of worry that if he died, where would an heir be to inherit the throne?

I came along soon enough, born one year before the great five year stalemate. My parents were old by this point, and they were weary. My earliest memory was of me playing with a doll in the throne room, no older than three or four, and looking up to my mother’s face. So many wrinkles lined her once smooth, milk coloured skin and her eyes had no shine and no hope. They had been fighting for so long it had become routine.

Then it ended. When the peace treaty of fourteen seventy three was signed, my father came home. I was five years old, and I remember being hugged and kissed and almost crushed by the maids, cooks and gardeners of the palace, thrilled that their love ones were returning. While we were frightened that the treaty was not fool proof, the knowledge that we could get our sons, fathers and husbands back was something that seemed to override any fear. My mother was the most relieved. I can remember her reaction so clearly.

“Ellie, dearest, come to me, please.” I was relishing in the attention I was getting from everyone, the happiness in the room infectious and overwhelming. I didn’t know quite how to take it all, and I spun around from person to person so much it was almost nauseating. When my mother called, it was like a beacon that vibrated through each sense of my body, slowing me and forcing me to look up at her. She beckoned me forward, gesturing for me to hug her. Letting out a laugh, I bounded over and crashed into her, burring myself into her body. Her frail arms closed around me, and for the first time I could feel that she was shaking. Her voice too shook – each word coming out slow and calculated, as if she feared that she would slip on it.

“Your father… your brave, beautiful father is coming home,” she whispered to me, and a feeling of wetness on my shoulder made me realise that my mother was crying. It was the first time I had ever seen her cry. In any other situation, she had grit her teeth and bore it. Now she let herself be weak. “It’s over, Ellie. We’re safe.”

There was the biggest celebration when my father arrived back home. People danced in the street; there was music, food, laughter and stories of men and their deeds were passed hungrily to feed the mouths of the curious. I sat there wide eyed in the festival, grinning from ear to ear as I heard of my father’s feats. From saving an entire village from a fire to beating a necromancer hell bent on reanimating his corpse, my people looked up to him for the leader that he was. He was strong, proud and wise… and he was mine.

He was battle hardened – his armour bore the brunt of countless battles and conflicts and the scars across his skin marred his once handsome features. Yet I did not see him ugly. The twinkle in his green, the same as mine, made up for any disfigurement. The way my people treated him and the way my mother raced to be with him, kissing him furiously when she was in his arms – he was loved regardless. To me he was all that was perfect. He was proud of us and proud of me. When he scooped me in his arms he planted a great kiss in the middle of my forehead and said the words: “You were so brave, my little one”, I was happy. My hero saw a trait in me that I strove to always achieve.

To that end, he always saw traits in other people that made me admire him all the more. When I was younger and the war had ended, I found myself at the mercy of my teacher who cared for the skills of a princess then that which I admired. I envied Nikolai – when he was off running and jumping and building his fitness I was cooped up in the palace practicing which spoon to use for what meal and learning to walk in dresses that pinched my sides and caused me to trip. I thought myself the furthest thing from princess and that was evident in how Rachel scolded my actions and my teacher would slap my bottom with a rod if I messed up. Yet in secret we would wrestle and play together, rough and free like children should be, we never anticipated that such actions would yield a negative response. So when Rachel found us one day locked into each other’s’ arms and covered in mud, the screeching that echoed through the castle must have been like nails on a chalkboard. It caused me to flinch.

“How dare you lay your hands on her like that, Nikolai! You know better than that. You may be able to play like that with your poor friends, but this is the princess of Delnar. You do not touch her!” Tears of anger were collecting in Nik’s eyes, his small, dirty hands balling into tight fists as he fought back his retort. I knew how much he hated being poor. It was a thing that was constantly reinforced in his head and made apparent almost every day we were together. “This is the princess; you are nothing more than a pauper living off her father’s benefits. Do not forget for a moment that this can be taken away from you!”

I was close to putting my opinion on the subject, the authority of my word still powerful despite my age. Rachel may have been my nanny, but she was still contracted by the house of Sunfire and so bowed to all of us – even if one was half her age and size. Yet before my pale pink lips could form out the words, a scarred hand placed itself on her shoulder. Jumping in surprise, the anger from her seemed to vanish, and the colour in her dark face drained away. She was left a stuttering mess.

“Y-Your Highness! I did not see you. I apologise; Nikolai was playing rough with the princess –“ Her words caught in her mouth as my father motioned for her to be silent, placing a finger to his lips. When such silence had been achieved, he ushered her out of the room before closing and locking the door. I could feel my stomach drop, all the heat being sucked out of my body. I did grip Nik’s hand, ready to defend him against my father’s slander. Yet, instead of rage, his face broke into a smile.

“Eliezra Sunfire, you know better than this, my love. As tempting as mud is, I am not surprised in the slightest such antics has led to this. You should be more careful,” Confusion was laced in my expression, my green eyes turning to look at Nikolai to see if such emotion was echoed. I couldn’t see. He had hidden his face behind long silver hair and his whole body had begun to shake with silent sobs. I squeezed his hand gently, trying to tell him that everything would be all right. My father had seen his sorrow and tilted his head. He walked over slowly until he stood before my best friend, his figure towering over him.

“Nikolai Valentine. Look at me,” he ordered. Nik didn’t move for a few seconds but it was plain to see this was not an act of defiance but of embarrassment. Slowly, however, his head rose to reveal red and puffy eyes with streaks of water across his dirty skin. He didn’t meet the king’s gaze, but that didn’t worry my father. He just continued to speak. “What were you doing with Eliezra? Playing –“

“I didn’t hurt her! She was a warrior, like you, defeating a swamp monster!” Nik snapped, his anger finally manifesting. I gasped in surprise, never hearing anyone speak to my father in such a manner. He didn’t reply. Instead he slowly lowered his body until he was on his knees and at level with the little boy, placing his hands on his shoulders. It was about then Nik realized his actions and raised a hand to angrily wipe away his tears, croaking out: “I’m sorry, Your Majesty”

“I will let you in on a secret,” my father began, once he had gotten Nik’s gaze. He used the sleeve of his gown to wipe away at the dirt and the tears, never once trailing away from his face. He smiled once again to reassure Nikolai. “I am not the only warrior and hero that you know, Nikolai. Do you know why I assigned you and your mother here?” Nikolai shook his head silently, to which my father chuckled.

“Your mother did not tell you? Perhaps it was wise of her. Big headedness is not a trait many admire and so I’m sure she has tried to banish it from your proverbial garden. Your father was a warrior – I’m sure you know. Did you know he fought beside me?”

Nikolai shook his head again, managing to croak out a “No Sir”. My father nodded before he continued.

“Your father and I, along with the rest of our team, had been assigned a secret mission to scout an enemy base close to the border of Delnar. We believed the mission was foolproof and that no one would be injured or harmed in its completion. It was a simple reconnaissance – a drill we had done thousands of times before. But we were attacked. Your father was killed, as you know, but do you know why?” Yet again Nik would shake his head, mumbling another “No Sir,” as a means of politeness. This time my father would lean in close to speak his next phrase, praising the son whose father gave him such a gift that he could be with me today. In return, I watched as Nik’s bright blue eyes would widen, his face filled with shock and sudden pride for a man he had never met but had always been told about. A man that should have stayed beside him, but died for a most noble of cause that he was recognized by my father.

“Your father sacrificed his life for me. Knowing who I was, the Iriee attackers tried to eliminate me from the playing field. Your father stepped in the way to take the arrow. We managed to get him out of the firing line, but he died a few hours later. I promised him that his sacrifice would not end in vain. You and your mother would not suffer for his willing demise and you would grow up in a place where your future was secure and cemented. It was all I could give.” He would then pull away, smiling broadly as I quickly clapped my hands together and cheered that my best friend’s father was a hero. Nikolai was still stunned, standing there like a deer in the headlights before quickly shaking his head back and forth. He couldn’t believe it.

“My father… Mama always told me that he died protecting something valuable, but I didn’t think a king…” The word seemed to catch in his mouth, sitting there like a sponge collecting water. It was heavy and weighed. “This is why… we came here?”

“Yes,” my father replied, “and you will continue to live here for the rest of your life as long as I will it. You have forged a friendship with my daughter that I hope you will keep. Perhaps, one day, you can follow in your father’s footsteps protecting her like he did for me.”

“You could become a Knight!” I chirruped, letting go of Nik’s hand and placing the both of mine behind my back. The little boy stared at me incredulously, making both my father and I laugh. I could see it in his face – how could he achieve something greater than his father? Yet I had faith in him. Nikolai may be small; he may doubt that he had the fitness, bravery or force that his father had, but I knew he could achieve great things. To that end, in response to his face, I made my own.

“You don’t want to protect me?” I asked, pouting at him. The boy would roll his bright blue eyes, a smile creeping onto the edge of his lips as he rather dramatically took my hand.

“I’ll protect you to the ends of the earth, Ellie! No swamp monsters, dragons or evil spirits can get to us!” I grinned and nodded my head as my father just chuckled and placed his large hands on the both of our heads.

“I’ll hold you to that, Nikolai,” he promised. “Now run along and have a bath. You both smell like dirt.”

When I was older, I realized there were many a things that Nikolai could not protect me from and things that would pull us apart. His lessons to become a Knight and mine to be a worthy princess kept our time sparse and often strained. While we knew that once he became a man and I a woman we could be together through mutual engagements – nay, him looking out for me – we couldn’t help the arguments that spilled out. Shouts that the other did not care for us anymore, arguing that everything we did was for them. They were the worst. Yet, somehow, we always made up for it. When Nikolai would see me crying after a fight, he would lean over and kiss me on the forehead, assuring me all was well. To that end, when he was upset I’d sit by him and take his hand and together we would often count the thousands of stars that lined the night sky.

He grew into a fine young man by the time he was presented to be my Knight; a scrawny boy morphed into a handsome warrior like a butterfly from a cocoon. Standing there in his white and gold armor, I couldn’t help but rush to embrace him when he walked into the room. He just laughed, gently patting me on the head while teasing me with the words: “Did you doubt me? That’s not very nice, your majesty.” But I was happy. Oh so very happy. Nikolai had gotten his dream through his determination and skill. Together we would always be and that knowledge made my heart sore to the highest of clouds.

But such happiness would be short-lived.

A week before my eighteenth birthday, my father called for my audience. Like a humble child and servant, I made my way to the throne room with haste. Since the war and my childhood, his heath had deteriorated. While his mind was sharp, his body was not. He could not walk for short distances and he had a cough that many thought could shake a building down. Yet he seemed happy, nestled amongst the fine silk pillows and blankets of the throne room, set out so that he could receive both peasants and lords alike. Upon my arrival, I addressed my father with his title and quickly dropped to my knees to kiss the soft doeskin of his shoes. He would laugh then, amused at my antics. He beckoned me forward with a withered hand and croak.

“M-My darling… you do not need to have such formalities. Come sit by me – take my hand.” I would smile gently and nod, quickly encasing his shaking hand within my own as a servant quickly placed a pillow beside my father so I could face him. Shifting my weight to perch on it, I allowed him a few moments to get over a coughing fit that had suddenly decided to descend on his body. I was not the only worried face in the room. Yet fear was an emotion abandoned by my father. Even now, the idea of his death seemed to not faze him. He would go like a warrior whenever that day would come.

“You wanted to talk to me about something important, Papa? What was it, if I may ask?” I questioned, forcing the smile back onto my face to hide my concern. My father would shake my hand up and down, trying to force out his stutter to make his point.

“E-Eliezra; My beautiful child. Y-You… you come from a long line of Sunfires. A brave line - one that has endured the harshest of winters and the scorching of summers – and you are not alone with them. M-My princess… what I ask of you I do knowing you will take it with grace. Not all courage is fought with swords and spears. This you know?”

“Yes, father,” I responded, confusion beginning to envelop my thoughts that quickly turned to horror when my father continued to speak. By this point, I was not sure whose hand was shaking – my father’s or my own.

“Y-Yes. Ellie… the day after of eighteenth birthday you are to leave this place. In order to ensure our survival, I and the king of Iriee have arranged for you to marry their Prince in a diplomatic engagement. As a way to keep an enduring peace and tie to the nation, you are to marry His Majesty Prince Klausian II.” My mouth had dropped open then, a twist in my stomach so harsh I thought I was to vomit on my father. He didn’t see, or he didn’t notice, for he continued with: “Many simply call him K-Klaus. The life of a royal is never easy, but I know you will pull through –“

“But father,” I cried out, my fear finally bubbling into words. I shook my head frantically back and forth, sending my hair flying. “How can I go now? I have never been to Iriee – and your health…”

“If I died tomorrow with the knowledge that you have preserved my kingdom, I will be happy.” He let go of my hand then to cup around my cheek, trying to soothe my frantic thoughts. While I appreciated the gesture, it did little for me. “You are strong. The nation of Iriee will see this. With your knights by your side, you will make it. I can assure you.”

~

And I… I had to tell them. While the maids had already been informed of my departure, in accordance to the customs of the house, all Knights must get a briefing by one member of royalty before any task. There I was trying not to burst into tears while seeing the look of shock and horror on their face as they gasped and tried to protest against me. “How can you go, Ellie?” “The hell is your father thinking?” “Please, your highness, reconsider!”

I couldn’t even look at Nikolai. When he tried to stop me I wrenched my hand from him. Only when he caught me out two nights before my departure and demanded my thoughts and reactions did I reveal to him. I burst into tears, refusing to let him touch me as I choked out all that my father had said. I couldn’t look into his blue eyes; I couldn’t get close enough to be able to feel or smell him before I knew I couldn’t do it. While he would be with me, it was not the same. I would be married and he would be alone in a nation that killed his father.

“I’m coming no matter what, right? You know that?” I could hear his voice from next to me, though he had met my request to stay back. I could feel that he was stressed. The strain was evident in his voice and the aura of the room left little to be disclosed. I just nodded from my hands, sobbing uncontrollably. He sighed and looked away.

“Ellie… why won’t you let me help you?”

~

I told him to stay away. At least until we left. There was nothing he could to comfort me as my bags were packed and my things put away. I left him to his thoughts as I did mine. Morbid as they were, I mourned the loss of a life I never knew I couldn’t have. I would miss my home, the smell of the roses in the gardens and the warmth of the sun on my skin. I’d miss the aura of magic that I had been taught and the clash of swords from the knights that trained in the fields.

There was no happiness on my coming of age. Only a grim determination, laced with cake and sweets that only made me vomit late at night. I said goodbye to my parents, not wanting the long effort in the morning. The maids set out my clothing for the last time and even did my hair in the morning as a way of saying farewell. When I rode out to meet my knights, I was almost in tears again.

I could feel their eyes on me, every man looking for my direction and guidance like my father before me. I had no force. I could only mumble a “let’s go,” before kicking my horse into a trot. I didn’t look back.

…I was terrified.