by J P Anderson
…
The man walked down the hall and knocked on the king's door. A sleepy king Henry answered. His face was handsome to most standards, even at mid-life. He had olive green eyes, just like his girls, and a thin angled face. His sharp chin could hardly be seen through his thick but not long black beard. His lips, opposite from his children, were thin an almost none existence. His black hair had a single grey streak combed back with the rest of his shoulder length hair. His thick eyebrows were below his medium sized forehead that bore slightly deepened creases. He wore a nightgown that went to his knees with fur slippers and a red velvet robe.
"You better be engulfed in flames or you soon will be." the king threatened sleepily.
"It's about your daughter Henry." he mused in a bored tone.
"Come on in boy…," he ordered and stopped after the word slipped.
"Henry, restate your invitation." Alister ordered. His eyes cold were filled with anger.
"My deepest apologies, it's just, when I get older and you don't, my-my tongue slips into what my eyes see. Alright?" he went on.
"It is fine Henry." he dismissed sharply. Impatiently, he stepped inside.
"What about Andria?" he asked in hushed tone.
"I think you should tell her about Alison, it's just not right that she knows nothing of what she is about to do, and quite frankly Henry if you won't tell her I will."
"I said I would tell her and I shall. You will not speak of a word to the subject, do we have an understanding? Mr. High On His Horse." he asked in a demeaning tone. What I wouldn't give to punch him out right now, he thought.
"Today." the man ordered sharply, although he knew too well he had no authority.
"When she is eighteen," Henry countered.
"She is eighteen. Today is her birthday. It is also, the day that she is getting married is approaching sooner than you think." he brayed trying to control his urge to call him everything he could think of.
"Nonsense, if she was eighteen Paige would give that girl…"
"That girl is your daughter, just like Andria." he said through his grinding teeth.
"'That girl's' sister and I are going to see Therius's boat come in as a birthday present," the anger had boiled over inside of him.
"Alister, try to put your absurd sentimental nature out of the picture and think about this reasonably for a moment. I know that Genevieve is coming, I know you are angered about this for a reason I chose not even ask about. I know you would like, love, to take out your misplaced anger on me for being cold to you, or Andria or Genevieve or whoever you think I'm being unfair to but you misunderstand. This is how I know how to do things. I love my children, even Genevieve, but I cannot expend the risk of Andria overreacting about her mother and ruining our union with Ranicus. If Genevieve, like Andria, is anything like her mother she is strong enough to handle what is to come." Henry informed him with his ancient charm Alister hadn't heard in a long time. Alister stared at him a moment. He was sometimes amazed how similar Andria and her father where. He was right, that was probably what angered him the most.
"Genevieve is going to interfere, you know as well as I that-" Alister began
"Alister Eden Grey, are you trying to inform me that my daughter is a nuisance to you?" Henry asked, not quite angry but more irritated that he would be so outlandish and out of character.
"No, I'm merely saying that she is going to get in the way and is going to be asking annoying questions, and poking around. Not to mention what happens if he talks to her." Alister listed.
"Alister, what makes you think they will even speak to one another? He has no reason to want to converse with her. He will think her nothing more than a human and pass her off before they have said but two words. I know what Mr. Prince of Ranicus has become, as do you." Henry tired to convince him.
"You would do well to remember your manners." Alister rebutted, running out of steam.
"You would do well to remember who you're talking to." Henry said opening the door.
"Oh believe me I'm constantly reminded that I'm talking to a little boy," and with that he stormed out leaving a baffled king standing in his night clothing.
He walked down the hallway and to the steeple. He got Andria's other birthday present, a gorgeous white stallion, and his black pure bred, out of their stalls. As he walked to the grand entrance of their palace he met up with Andria talking to an old beggar.
Andria wore a beautiful lavender blue dress with black curls covering her otherwise bare back.
"Child, you are simply divine. Spare change for a chilly old thing like me? Pretty, spiders, don't you think, spinning their webs like fates themselves." The woman babbled. She held out her dirty old boney fingers and a spider crawled out of her silver robes and spun a web from her finger. Andria stepped back a little as a thwort, a black birdlike creature with a contorted face and boney unnaturally dark body, landed on her extended arm.
"Yes, they, um, symbolize the weaving of a new fate." Andria answered nervously.
"Very good Child, like the thworts here, spiders have gotten bad reputations for being bad omens but it is just not correct. Thworts are protectors, they hide your secrets, and if you let them they will warn you of Death's cold hands." she said, reaching for her. Andria stumbled back a little but didn't show any fear in her eyes.
"Here you go," she said handing the lady a great deal of money.
"Bless thee child, you are indeed an angel," the lady said in a raspy voice and with that, she disappeared.
"Andria." She looked away from the, now gone, old lady and smiled. When she saw the stallion a blood curdling scream erupted from her blood red lips and ran for the second time today and squeezed him.
"I love you! She's gorgeous." she hugged him again and stroked the horse then got on side saddle.
"That's not even the best part of your birthday extravaganza." he yelled far too loudly for perhaps five in the morning.
She was eighteen and she had never fallen and scrapped her knee or fell off anything she was an untouched angel heading into the largest challenge of her life. She was to marry Mr. Prince of Ranicus and head of the Black Riders, protectors of the gates between Earth and Akadia. The man thought of all the things these next few days would bring and thought of the other princess, also known as Genevieve, who was on Earth and what life she must lead being unknown royalty. He shook his emotions off and got on his horse and they rode off into a surreal dark blue sky.
Chapter 4: The Breakup
She walked down the street hearing the thump of her commando boots of the dirty New York streets like the thump of her broken decrepit heart making all sorts of noise inside her chest. I know what I'm doing, don't I? He is going to leave me. I mean, who wouldn't? I can't go anywhere or see anything. Ironically this is when some people would beg for their mother, I would always beg for my Peter. But he won't save me now. She reasoned to herself the entire way now she stood in front of Cayla's Cafe daring herself to go in. She bit her lip. You should go in, face the music. I hear it's to die for. Cue drum laugh track. Peter would have got that. I probably shouldn't just stand here, looking like a fool, in front of a store stalking it. It's going to take a lot more glares and sniffles and maybe a little self intended mumbles before I open those intimidating huge glass doors. Go inside, sit down and quit your complaining, it's probably better than you think it is. Stop thinking the worst in people it's such a horrid habit to have. She kept pushing her hair back, over and over she pushed her bangs back and they slowly fell into her eyes once more as she paced. Come on Scarlett, everyone calls you a heartless scallywag, they know, they all know you have no morals. Just go in, why is it so hard to face him. Because he's the only one who stayed. Because he's the only person who loves me for me and maybe I don't want that to end. But it has to, and standing outside isn't going to change his mind in there. It's just going to make me go madder than I already am. Take the step Genevieve, just one step. A voice seemed to meld with her's to create enough of a p
itter patter in her ticker to force her clunky foot to follow the beat towards the door, she reached out and gripped the handle with her black nail polished fingered hand.
"Ah jeez," she exhaled. Taking a breath and pulling the door open and stepped inside the dragon's lair. She scanned the room looking at twenty something's guzzling caffeine like it was on short supply and chatting up a storm. When her eyes finally fell upon her twenty something she quaked, a feeling of warmth and safety she had never felt with anyone or anywhere that she knew to be the feeling of home. His auburn hair was extra curly today, cut far too eighty's to be cool and too retro new age to be nerdy. His face was a different matter. His face was round; his nose was a sharp triangle, covered with freckles. His eyes, where a gorgeous hazel, his cheeks blushed at the slightest of embarrassments and everything about him screamed child. Ah jeez he's wearing the black jacket I 'got' for him. She thought.
"Hey Babe, you look." he paused. That smile, she thought. I love that lazy sticky finger smile. I can't do this; abort. Abort! She screamed in her head as she stood unmoved next to her seat, although for the life of her she cannot remember how she got there from the door.
"You look, stunning." he commented in admiration, looking up holding a black rose that was obviously spray painted. He handed it to her, making it all the harder to sit down without grimacing at the task at hand.
"Sit. Blaise, get us our usual." he ordered to the boy who walked by us, Blaise, or whoever was just called Blaise, rolled his eyes and stopped, taking out his pad and licking pin, a bored frown permanently painted on his face.
"Sir, you don't have a usual, you've never been here before." Blaise said in what can only be described as a bored tone. Peter pondered this as if it was a difficult math problem and Gen had to bit her lip to keep from laughing.
"I see," Peter said gravely, squinting his eyes in fake question.
"Anything to drink?" Blaise asked in monotone looking straight, mouth partly open.
"Wait Pepsi or Coke?" Peter asked with far too much interest.
"Pepsi" Blaise answered, starting to write what Peter said.
"Yeah in that case can I get a Mountain Dew for the lady," he said as Blaise made a dramatic scratching sound with his pen on the pan and started to write again.
"Anything for you, Sir?"He asked gridding his teeth.
"Oh, a Dr. Pepper for me," Peter ordered. Blaise looked at him with such a look of disgust Gen seriously thought he was about to jump across the table and strangle Peter with his bare hands.
"Anything else I can get for you?" he asked, she thought he more meant 'is there anything I can spit in for you,' but she decided to let the joke die slowly, untold. Blaise walked away and Peter gulped. He pushed back his curly auburn hair nervously, tapping his Vans loudly. Peter usually looked about the same. He wore a black unbuttoned casual blazer, vest, and a plain colored shirt with gray or dark blue nice fitting jean with his stripped Vans almost every day with subtle changes. His hazel eyes always rolled around under his thick auburn eyebrows on his almond shaped face the same comical way and his curly auburn red hair always fell into his face when he got too excited. He was Genevieve's constant, her everything and he was slipping away.
She looked around to avoid conversation. The hustle and bustle of Cayla's Cafe was immense. The large stain glass chandeliers where sparkling red, from the reflection of the lights, which made the entire restaurant look like a sheltered cave. Blaise came back almost instantly with our drinks but as if getting back at Peter for the formality of his conversation with Blaise he turned upon arrival and walked away before our meal could be written down, leaving her alone with no hope of an interference of the awkward arrival of food. She hardly resisted the temptation to reach out for Blaise screaming 'No!' just hardly.
"So," she began with a nervous giggle, trying not to seem like she was warming him up for a fight.
"So, how was your day?" he asked, smiling with a seemingly Peter looking smile, slightly crooked.
"Good, I made about three hundred and fifty dollars." Technically not a lie, she thought.
"That's wonderful Babe." His tone faded away with his smile and he looked down, twiddling his thumbs. She scooted her chair back; the last time he twiddled his thumbs his older brother Adam was hit by a drunk driver and died along with his six year old sister Alice, he was an only child at fourteen. She was ready for anything.
"I'm not going to drag this out Gen. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. I got into a college in California and I'm leaving tomorrow." Except that. He looked up and she skipped sadness and went straight to anger. He had beat her to it, she had called him to dinner to tell him she was leaving, he sees all the sights of a classic dinner and ditch and leave with the bill and he selfishly beat me to the punch, she thought.
"How dare you beat me to it!" she yelled.
"What?" he asked, obviously ready to give his spiel but she wouldn't give him the pleasure.
"I can't believe you! You knew I was going to leave and you."
"You were going to leave?" he interrupted with yelling even louder pushing his seat back.
"Well yeah, I knew you were gonna ditch me for any school, and I, I got into beauty school." Yeah, and IU, but I wasn't going to go Pete, I was going to stay, for you. I would have told him I was leaving to find my father but I couldn't make myself say it.
"I can't believe you were gonna leave me under the assumption I was going to eventually get around to it." he yelled, his face growing redder with each word.
"Oh and how well you've proofed me wrong." she boomed grabbing her coat and walking out.
"Genevieve I cannot believe we were both going to ask each other to the same restaurant just so we could "break up" with each other and we're not even going out!" The boy had a point, and if we weren't in the middle of the only fight we've even been in I would laugh, she thought.
Peter and she have been best friends since the first day of kindergarten. They grew up through everything, good and bad. When Peter went out with everyone under the sun, Genevieve was his sister and confidante and best friend. If she didn't like the girl she was toast. When Peter's brother and sister were killed, he cried in her arms instead of his drunken fathers. When his mother left when we was sixteen she was there to talk him into putting down the knife, and the gun, and the bottle of whiskey. They were everything to each other, and they were parting, just like that. They both stared at each other there, on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. She was, of course, the first one to laugh, but shortly then after Pete picked up the joke. They held each other's shoulders so we wouldn't fall over.
"Friends?" she asked still giggling.
"Best fr-friends," he giggled. The giggles ceased and he wrapped his arms around her, he placed her chin on his shoulder.
"I love you Genevieve." he whispered.
"Ditto Pete, I don't know what I would do without you." she whimpered trying her very best to not cry and mess up his coat. She pushed his shoulders making him let go and stumble back.
"I'm still mad at you! What school did you get into?"
"Don't ruin this lovely mentally impaired moment Babe, just know that were friends." he begged. "Peter, where?" she said my tone serious.
"Just Berkley," he said waved his hand dismissing it.
"Just Berkley?" she squeaked. "Peter, that's…, well…Peter that's excellent but Berkley's three thousand miles away!" she punched his shoulder.
"I know that's why I didn't want to tell you because I knew it would hurt!" he said rubbing his shoulder.
"Why Berkley?" she asked. Her voice was small because she knew caution was to be had in uncharted territory. She waited anxiously for the words that followed her question.
"They gave me a full scholarship, they said I could even play ball!" he blabbered.
"I don't know." But I did know. I knew Peter, #1 baseball player in the county for the high school team, funny, gorgeous, sensitive Peter wouldn't pick Goth, pathetic, orphan Genevieve X. I just knew
it. I knew it was always too good to be true, that all good things had to end. She thought. "Come on Babe, it not like you're ever gonna be..." His words faded away when her face went from mad to a smile.
"What were you going to say Pete? What wise cracking joke were you going to make? For the love of God Peter finish." her voice raised and fell with her word and a smile crossed her face, a smile that dared him to finish, although he knew what she would do to him if he did.
"It's not like you're going to ever go to college like that Babe. Okay? That's what I was going to say." he whispered, leaning close as if it were a secret. Someone bumped into her as she turned to walk to the crosswalk on the busy New York streets. She nodded biting her lip and smiled with that smile no one wants to see. The walk sign chirped and she stepped off the curb.
"Goodbye Peter." she finished and turned around, clunking across the interstate.