Short Story - Ever After

A slightly longer short story for you to celebrate the coming of a certain season, written for a long ago Christmas writing challenge with a large variety of cliches prompts to work in. My take was this - that happily ever after depends on your point ofview…;)

Ever After 

“You’re sure theydon’t know about this?”

Lord Arthek stared at the gaunt, anxious face of his oldfriend and neighbour Baron Tewdar and gave as much of a reassuring smile as hecould under the circumstances.

 “As sure as you canbe with… them,” he said, his voicebetraying the slightest tremor of anxiety as he glanced once more at the vastdouble doors at the head of his feasting chamber. “I made everyone I invitedpromise not to mention this at court in case word got back and I only told thosethat I truly trust that we’re doing this. If we’re lucky…”

  He did not finishthe sentence. He didn’t have to. The hope hung in the air like waft of sweet perfume.

  Baron Tewdar gazedaround the hall, his long, languid face that had, for so many months now, beenlocked in dour resignation cracking slightly at the edges as he risked a smile.“You’ve done a wonderful job with the place,” he remarked with a quiet nod.“It’s…subtle. Understated. Tasteful.”

  The relief in hisvoice was tangible and Arthek understood exactly how he felt. When he had firstdecided to risk it, to try, just forthe sake of his sanity and his eyeballs if nothing else, to hold a small,private celebration for the Midwinter Festival here at his remote countrymanor, he had resolved to do away with all the ostentatiously trappings he wasforced to endure at court and go back to the simple, half-hidden designs theyhad perfected during those long ago years when they’d had a different life anda different ruler, one who had, to say the least, not been given to celebrationand show the way their current monarchs were. Simple garlands of holly and ivycircled the doorways, the chandeliers and the windows, little posies of winterflowers nestling on the tables between the straightforward plates of vegetablesand meat being laid out for the feast. Coming as they just had from a courtfilled with silk and velvet drapes of all colours of the rainbow, of goldfiligree and silver leaf that decked every room, every hall, every chamber, ofbright paintings and tapestries on every wall depicting the events of TheTriumph, it was like a breath of clean, pure air.

  A little frown linehad appeared between Baron Tewdar’s eyebrows, chasing away his brief moment ofsmile. An expression all too familiar to Arthek crept over his face.

 “You don’t think….”he started and then paused, letting escape a brief sigh before trying to speakthe words once more. “You don’t think we’re being…ungrateful, do you?”

  It was Arthek’s turnto sigh, his turn to feel that terrible little of guilt that assailed himwhenever thoughts such as this crossed his mind. After all, when one consideredwhat had come before…

  The Domination. Anevil emperor, powerful, ruthless, cold, who had dominated their lands, who hadslaughtered their children and eviscerated their lands, who had committed themost terrible atrocities on any who defied him and then two had come, he hadcome and she had come and those terrible times had been over. A new rule, a newtime, a new dawn…

  But now…

  He understood it, hereally did. The emperor’s court had been so dark, his kingdom so devoid ofcolour, other than the occasional splash of blood and lick of flames, that hecould understand their need to contrast, their fervently spoken desire to makethis a land of brightness and joy again. But did they have to be so… rigorousabout it?

  The guilt, the awfulguilt, the thing that had led so many noble lords, hardened warriors who hadbattled fiercely and loyally for their freedom to submit themselves to theindignity of velvet pantaloons in a fetching shade of maroon, to peacockfeather hats and cloaks of dyed sable, to embroidered brocade doublets slashedwith splashes of turquoise and mauve, was clawing at his soul. Yes, they weregrateful, of course they were grateful. But no one had ever expected gratitudewould have to be like this…

 “No, no, of coursenot.” The words were as much to silence the claws as to reassure his oldfriend. “They wouldn’t want to come all the way out here anyway.”

 “You’re right ofcourse. You’re right.” Tewdar bit his lip. “I still think about the Domination,you know.”

 Arthek noddedsolemnly. “As do we all.”

 “All those terriblethings that happened.”

“Dreadful, dreadful things.”

 “All those innocentpeople. All the dear friends we lost. Like Gorlas…”

 “Poor Gorlas. No wayto die. No one should have to eat his own feet.”

 “Lewyth, of course.”

 “I’ll never look at aslice of grapefruit in the same way again.”

“And Clemo…”

 “We do not talk about Clemo.”

  Both men shudderedas one as their memories went on the same trip down memory lane and plungedstraight into a mutual pit of unpleasantness. The emperor had had a rather sicksense of humour.

  “But still…”Tewdar’s voice slipped cautiously into the silent void that followed. “The timein the caves… The camaraderie we had… The meals made out of nothing much thatturned into feasts. Our last Midwinter…”

  Arthek smilednostalgically. “A sprig of holly and a curl of ivy, a half-dead grouse and someroots. We sang songs all night and laughed until morning.”

  “And you know,”Tewdar mused on. “I have found myself thinking lately that if it hadn’t beenfor the inventive deaths and the mass murders and the burnings and maimings andslaughterings and all that… Well… That life wasn’t so very bad…”

  He was nodding.Arthek could actually feel himself nodding along and a part of his brain pickedup a heraldic trumpet and blew a very loud fanfare. He had spent ten years ofhis life living in caves and ditches, eating roots and in constant threat of adeath that, whilst most unique, would certainly lack in dignity and he haddreamed every night that someone would come, that things would be better, thathe would be rich and warm and prosperous just as he was today. He hadeverything he’d ever wanted and now here he was looking back on those timeswith nostalgia.

  How had he come tothis?

  He should begrateful. He was grateful. He was.

  He just preferred tobe grateful from a distance.

  “I am grateful though.” Tewdar’s words spuninto his friend’s silence in almost desperate reassurance. “I wouldn’t goback.”

  “Of course not.”Arthek repeated the words. “Of course not.”

  And that was thetrouble. Bad as things could be for those at court, they were still a darnedsight better than the alternative.

  Arthek thought ofvelvet pantaloons and shuddered. Mostof the time.

  And his guests werestarting to arrive now, dressed in simple gowns and plain doublets, smiling atthe natural decorations and the uncomplicated food. All bore expressions ofrelief tinged just around the edges with the fear that any second, it would allbe ruined.

  His dear wife, LadyZenobia bustled abruptly to his side. Her expression was slightly disapproving.“Don’t just hide over here with Tewdar,” she scolded him gently. “This is meantto be your party, Arthek. Circulate.”

  Images flashedthrough Arthek’s head of two fingers bedecked in jewels and bright colours,circulating a vast ballroom as a magical voice wove colours and explodedfireworks in the air and a sword flashed to carve amusing shapes out of thefruit centrepiece, the undisputed centres of attention. He shuddered.

 “I’m happy here,” hesaid firmly. “I don’t do circulating.”

 “You say it like it’sa curse word.” Zenobia sighed. “You don’t have to process or display yourself like… they do. Just go and talkto people.” An eyebrow rose cynically. “Take Tewdar with you if you’re that afraid.”

  There was to be nogetting out of it, it seemed. His wife on one side and his oldest friend on theother, Arthek set out into the room.

  And it was there hediscovered the problem.

  The party waseverything he and his friends had wanted. It was simple, it was tasteful and itwas quiet. Every one of them should have been having a wonderful time. But itwas there on every face, in every furtive look, passing in every conversation.He could hear it and he could see it and he could almost smell it.

  The fear. And theguilt.

  And it was like apresence, invisible, overwhelming, watching them, an unwelcome, uninvited guestweighing down upon the party. It only took a moment’s listening to find it.

  “Not to beungrateful, of course. I mean, shedoes spend a great deal on… improvingthe palace and gives away all those clothes and jewels. She’s got that vastfortune you know, inherited when her father was killed by the emperor…”

 “And I mean, he did defy his banishment by his family tokill his own twin brother for us. I mean, that brother was an evil emperor with a twisted gift for death but it stillcan’t have been easy…”

 “And of course shetravelled all that way to train in the knightly arts with the ancient Hermit ofMond, last of the great warrior monks. I still wonder how a little thing likeher manages to wear all that heavy armour…”

 “And, he did sail allthe way to the Templeof the Fervent Virgins to master that talent of his he hates so much. I mean,how would you cope having a magical singing voice when you’re tone deaf?”

 “Not to mention themmaking him carry their baby.”

“Makes me cross my legs just thinking about it. I do wonderthough – do you reckon that has something to do with that pendent he nevertakes off?”

  “…everything thepoor lass did for us. She’s got that awful scar right across her cheek from herbattle with the emperor’s henchman, although it does rather flatter the line ofher cheekbones…”

“…those eyes ofhis. Have you ever seen golden eyes before? They say he can look straight intoyour heart and see everything within it.”

 “You don’t think… hecan tell… that we…”

 “But it’s just aparty. We are grateful!”

 “Of course we are!”

 “Of course…”

  Of course they were.Arthek sighed. That was the trouble. They were afraid to go back to the glitterand sparkle, to a world where everyone and everything revolved almost bydefault around two towering figures and their wishes. And the worst thing wasthey weren’t evil. They meant well, they meant to bring joy but they were sobright, so burningly vivid, so all consuming a presence that no one else couldever get a look in. They were and always would be the absolute centre ofattention; even at a party where they weren’t even present. It was a world that was awful but well meant, that itscourtiers longed to escape and feared, not mortally, but socially to return to but yet felt guilty for the fear. They weregrateful enough to feel that they didn’t feel grateful enough.

  Zenobia was at hisside, biting her lip. Tewdar just looked grim.

  And then just whenit seemed that the unwelcome guests at their party could not make theirpresence any more felt, came the birdsong.

  The entire partyfroze as one, the guilt that had bred the fear abruptly crushing all hope as avivid blue songbird swooped into the room and landed with an elegant swish onthe chandelier above. Loftily, it gazed at the holly and ivy circling its perchbefore shoving it out of the way with one delicately poised claw. It clearedits throat.

  “I, Flittery, mostnoble pet and messenger of their gracious majesties, King Achilles and QueenGuinevere, saviours of your realm, bring you their glad tidings upon thisMidwinter eve!” it exclaimed in a high pitcher twitter. Deep in the privacy ofhis own mind, Arthek quietly but fervently wished for a crossbow and a littlewillpower. “I also bring you their honoured invitation – to abandon this humblegathering and to indulge in the true glory of a proper celebration as befitsyour noble status. Your monarchs would do you honour and their carriagesalready await you without. Attire yourself in your finest garb and come at oncefor the magnificent honour of all! Long live the King and Queen!”

  There was a pausebefore a ripple of reciprocal “long lives…” echoed reluctantly around the hall.The bloody little bird gave them all a look of profound disdain and the ripplehurriedly became a surge. With a more approving nod, Flittery the messengerbird vanished in a flurry of wings.

  Silence fell. Fearturned to resignation but the guilt was at least sated.

  Zenobia breathed outslowly. “I’ll get your pantaloons, shall I?”

  On his other side,Tewdar was staring quietly but desperately out of the window as he faced theprospect of ever after in short, shiny trousers and doublets dripping in gaudyjewels. He swallowed hard.

  “And I’ll see you inthe caves…” he said.

NOTE: For those you are interested, the cliche fantasy prompts I had to work in were:

1.Eyes which are an unusual colour, and have some sort of power or offer insightinto their character.
2. The character is heir to some kind of fortune.
3. A character name which is more commonly a noun, verb, or adjective OR istaken from a mythological or historical figure.
4. The character has some kind of skill or ability which they consider a curse.
5. The character is estranged from their family/tribe etc. or currently undersome sort of banishment order.
6. A strange or unusual pet.
7. The character is studying something like martial arts or magic or an obscureart form with the help of the last remaining master of that particular craft.
8. The character has an evil or very good twin.
9. The character holds some kind of gender-anachronistic position (is a malegeisha, a female fighter pilot in WWII etc.)
10. The character has some sort of item (jewellery or book etc.) which theynever part with, for reasons they can’t or won’t explain.
11. The character has a singing voice with some sort of power.
12. The character has some kind of physical ‘flaw’ which doesn’t detract fromtheir beauty.

I think I did okay. ;)