The Beginning
Amiera Norac knew from a young age what was expected of her. With her being the only princess to the kingdom of Decorus, it was assumed that she would be married off to a foreign prince and become the queen of his country. Because of this, decisions were always made for her. No one asked for her input on diplomatic matters, nor what she might want for dinner. For nineteen long years, that had been her life. Endless meetings she wasn’t allowed to speak in, going to balls in hideous dresses, and always living in the shadow of her brothers.
Maybe that’s why she was so relieved when she was assigned Aeryn Whitlock as her personal knight. Aeryn Whitlock, or Ryn as she insists people call her, was a fascinating woman. Tall, beautiful, and talented in both the arts of combat and sorcery, she was proficient in everything Amiera was not. Her fair skin held endless galaxies of freckles, her bright hazel eyes held a fire capable of warming the entire castle, and her rosy pink lips were always pulled back in a smile that was heartwarming to say the least. She was amazing. She made it look effortless as she threw 250 pound men around like sacks of flour. She made putting charms on weapons and transfiguring objects look like child’s play. Regardless, she was a shining beacon of light in a palace full of dull lanterns.
She meant that literally. Ryn and her mother, who was also the High Sorceress, practiced the same type of magic; light sorcery. Occasionally, she would see one or the other walking through the corridors, literally lighting them up. As a side effect of their magic type, both women had cascading white hair. No one knows what causes this, it was just a known trait of light sorcerers. Ryn however, had a key identifier. There was a fiery streak of red on the right side of her head, heavily standing out against the stark white of the rest of her hair.
“Good morning Princess,” Ryn called, suddenly falling into step with Amiera, as if summoned by the mere thought of her. “Morning,” Amiera replied, trying(and failing) to hide the smile forming on her lips. Amiera had been persistent in her efforts to hide the budding feelings she had for her knight in shining armor, although the only person she was hiding it from was Ryn herself. Despite her efforts, the entire castle had managed to find out about the feelings she harbored for the girl. “Ready to face mother dearest?” Ryn asked, stopping just outside the doors to the throne room. Amiera’s face fell. She most definitely was not ready for the counsel meeting she had to attend with her mother. Everyone in the palace knew that the queen and princess didn’t get along. Almost every encounter between the two ended in a screaming match. Today was sure to be no different. “Wish me luck,” she said, leaving Ryn outside and finally stepping into the throne room.
☀︎
Her mother’s counsel was filled with bleak, unlikeable people. The only person on the counsel she actually cared for just so happened to be the mother of the woman she was falling for. High Sorceress Agnola Whitlock was by far the most likable person on the counsel. Maybe because she was the only member to acknowledge her presence and opinions. “Good evening,” Amiera spoke, forcing a smile across her face. None of the counsel replied back, but Agnola smiled warmly at her as she took her seat next to her mother. Queen Izella Norac sat as on her throne, her face as impassive as ever. Her onyx eyes were empty and cold, and she did not smile. She wore a gown that was a deep plum color; it complimented her umber skin well. “Good evening, Mother,” she said to her mother while taking her seat. She did not even look over at Amiera.
“I’ve called this counsel meeting to discuss the betrothal I’ve arranged for Amiera.” Her eyes almost popped out of her head at that. Betrothal? When had her mother had the time to do that? “Prince Henrik of Edessa has offered you his hand in marriage, and you will accept it.” she spoke, looking pointedly at Amiera. The way she said it left no room for argument, but being herself, Amiera made room. “Mother please, we’ve been over this,” she tried to reason, “Marriage isn’t something I want right now.”
“You may not want it, but you will accept it,” her mother stated coldly, “Being a wife is the only way you can ascend the throne.” She was right, but the rule seemed like nothing but a load of horse crap to her. What does being married have to do with her ability to rule? She didn’t understand why there had to be a man standing next to her for her to be able to rule her kingdom. If she got to rule at all. “Why?” she asked, “You’re the queen, can’t you just get rid of the law? Besides, Rhys or Elian will take over the throne, so what does it matter if I am married or not?”
“It’s not that simple, Amiera.”
“It’s quite simple actually.”
Izella turned to look at her, pinning her with a glare icy enough to make hell freeze over. “I will not be changing any laws for you Amiera,” she said after a few moments of silence, her voice barely keeping an even tone. “You will be presented as Prince Henrik’s fiancé at your twentieth birthday ball.”
“Two weeks? That’s all the time I get? And what if I don’t want to marry him?”
“You will.” she said, her mouth pressed into a firm line. “Or you will face the consequences.”
☾
Amiera was seething as she stormed out of the throne room. The wooden doors of the throne room slammed against the stone walls, echoing in the mostly empty corridor. She looked over to see Ryn jump and turn her head, locking eyes with the princess. Before she could get a word in, Amiera turned and started stomping her way to her chambers. She could hear Ryn rush to get up and follow her, trying her best to keep with her fleeting footsteps. “Princess, do you think you could slow down a little?” she huffed out, out of breath from the pace Amiera had set. She stopped for a moment, allowing Ryn to catch her breath before continuing the march to her bedroom.
When she finally got there, she threw open the intricately carved door, flopped onto her bed, and screamed into one of the many pillows neatly arranged on her bed. Ryn stood leaning against the frame of her door, a sympathetic smile on her face. “That bad huh?” Ryn asked, making her way over to sit on Amiera’s bed. Amiera nodded, face still buried in her pillows. She turned to face her, her expression showcasing all the sadness and frustration she felt. “I just want her to listen to me,” she said, tears spilling from her olive colored eyes and unto her copper cheeks.
That was all she had wanted since her father died. Ever since that fateful day almost five years ago, her mother had hardened into the cold, dismissive queen she is today. When her father was alive, the palace was a place that was always filled with laughter and happiness. Now, the corridors were cold and never-ending, haunted by the memory of what once was. That is until a certain light sorceress came along. Ryn brought the light and laughter back to both the palace and her life. Whether she knew it or not, she made the princess feel alive again.
Ryn came over from her spot on the bed, taking her face in her hands and wiping the tears away as they fell. “Don’t cry,” she started softly, “It’ll be ok,” and as she said it Amiera didn’t know which of them she was trying to convince.
☀︎
Later that evening, Amiera sat at her vanity, trying to detangle her curls from her tiara. It had been well over fifteen minutes since she had started, and she had yet to detach the damned thing from her head. Just as she was about to give up, she finally pulled off the only thing identifying her as a princess. The crown she had taken off was her favorite. Her father gave it to her for her twelfth birthday. It was a simple thing, a downturned tiara with a swirling gold frame and a glittering emerald hanging from the middle. He had it specially made, just for her. He always said that her eyes were more beautiful than the gemstone sitting above them. The eyes he had given her.
She set her tiara down, leaving her place at the vanity in favor of standing in front of the portrait by her wardrobe. She gazed fondly at her father’s broad grin, deep golden brown skin, and sparkling olive eyes. Even her seemingly emotionless mother seemed happy in the portrait, her normally cold and empty onyx eyes seemed to shine as she stood next to her husband. Smaller versions of her brothers stood on each side of miniature Amiera, towering over her even then. They looked eerily similar, the only differing feature was their eyes. Rhys’s were dark as night, the same as their mother’s. Elian on the other hand, inheritated the same jade green of their father’s. Finally, she moved her gaze to the miniature version of herself, standing in front of her parents, and in between her twin brothers. The younger rendition of her was smiling brightly, showing off the gap where her two front teeth were supposed to be. They looked so happy.
“Why can’t it be that way again?” she whispered to no one, wanting nothing more in that moment than to have her family as it once was; happy.