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Help[Games] Re: Your round 1
in reply to a message by La Reina
Fingaernith
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus (30)
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio] (27)
Son?: Tybalt Petros Uriah (3)
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
---
The morning after Breccan and Kalila's beautifully simple wedding, a page showed up at their bedroom door with a soft rap on the wood. "My king, there is a lady here to see you. She claims to need to speak with you. She says it's urgent."
Breccan called back, "I'll be there in a minute! Thank you." As soon as he heard the page's footsteps fade away, he rolled back over and fell back to sleep. Ten minutes later, the page had returned. Once again, Breccan informed him that he would be there in just a minute before returning to sleep.
On the page's third visit, Kalila mumbled sleepily, "Just go, Brec. Make him leave us alone. Besides, what you're doing is rude."
Reluctantly, Breccan rolled out of bed, snatching his clothing off the chair upon which they sat. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "But then again, so is waking someone up so early the morning after they wedded the love of their life." As he spoke, he dressed for the day but Kalila stayed in bed. "Come on, Kal, you're coming, too," he laughed, diving onto the bed and pulling her to her feet as she fought back. "It's your first morning as my wife. You go where I go."
Kalila put on her pouty face before breaking into laughter, having cracked herself up. "Fine! Fine! But only because I love you so much," she insisted.
Once the couple was fully dressed, they left to meet with the woman who had "urgent" business with them. As they entered the throne room, a young, sickly woman stood, holding the hand of a boy who looked to be about three. He looked nothing like his mother but resembled ever so slightly Breccan. The woman bowed her head and spoke: "My king, four years ago, I worked here in the palace as a maid. I was fired four years ago when I became pregnant. This is the child to whom I gave birth. But now I am sick. The doctors estimate that I won't survive past six months. The boy has no one else. No one but you."
"But why do you bring him to me?" Breccan inquired. "Surely, you must have relatives or friends who could take him in. Who am I to the child?"
The woman locked eyes with Breccan and replied, "You are his father, my king."
Kalila took a deep breath and glared in the general direction of her husband suspiciously, jealously, but exhaled upon seeing the shock on Breccan's face. "You must be mistaken, dear lady," he chuckled nervously. "I never- we never- it's not possible. I understand that you want the best for your son and what better way to ensure he lives a good life than to claim that he is the son of the king? But I am afraid that you are mistaken. You should bring him to his real father."
A look of deep disappointment and even pain fell upon the woman's face as she took the boy's hand, leading him out the door. Kalila leaned in to whisper to Breccan. "Sweetie, are you sure he isn't yours? I wouldn't be mad. It was four years ago. That was before we were really serious. And you must admit, the boy does resemble you."
Breccan shakes his head. "No. He's not mine."
"How can you be so sure?" Kalila asked laughingly. "I'm sure you must've indulged with the staff on at least one occasion. I hear it's royal tradition."
Breccan's face flushed red as he stammered, "Well, uh, actually, I, uh, no. I- I never did that. My brothers..." His voice trailed off as the thought hit him. "My brothers. He must be one of theirs." He took off running after the lady and stopped her. "I know he isn't mine, my dear lady, but I will gladly take my nephew in as my own." He scooped the child up in his arms and the boy stared at him wide-eyed. "I can promise you he will be well taken care of. What's your name?"
The boy gulped, gasping, "Tybbie."
"That's what he goes by," his mother replied. "His full name is Tybalt. Tybalt Petros Uriah."
Breccan grinned at his nephew. "Fantastic name! Don't worry, dear woman. He's in good hands." With that, he let the boy say goodbye to his mother before returning to Kalila. He set the boy down to play at their feet. Kalila smiled kindly at her husband. "I couldn't help it," Breccan explained himself. "He's my nephew. I couldn't let him live like he would have. Besides, he's a little sweetheart."
"No, you're a little sweetheart," Kalila replied.
“The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places.
But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now
mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
Monarch: Breccan Nicasio Zevi Willem Augustus (30)
Consort: Kalila Savita Whimsy [Scipio] (27)
Son?: Tybalt Petros Uriah (3)
Of the illustrious Royal House of: Toril
In the Kingdom of: Sidonie
---
The morning after Breccan and Kalila's beautifully simple wedding, a page showed up at their bedroom door with a soft rap on the wood. "My king, there is a lady here to see you. She claims to need to speak with you. She says it's urgent."
Breccan called back, "I'll be there in a minute! Thank you." As soon as he heard the page's footsteps fade away, he rolled back over and fell back to sleep. Ten minutes later, the page had returned. Once again, Breccan informed him that he would be there in just a minute before returning to sleep.
On the page's third visit, Kalila mumbled sleepily, "Just go, Brec. Make him leave us alone. Besides, what you're doing is rude."
Reluctantly, Breccan rolled out of bed, snatching his clothing off the chair upon which they sat. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "But then again, so is waking someone up so early the morning after they wedded the love of their life." As he spoke, he dressed for the day but Kalila stayed in bed. "Come on, Kal, you're coming, too," he laughed, diving onto the bed and pulling her to her feet as she fought back. "It's your first morning as my wife. You go where I go."
Kalila put on her pouty face before breaking into laughter, having cracked herself up. "Fine! Fine! But only because I love you so much," she insisted.
Once the couple was fully dressed, they left to meet with the woman who had "urgent" business with them. As they entered the throne room, a young, sickly woman stood, holding the hand of a boy who looked to be about three. He looked nothing like his mother but resembled ever so slightly Breccan. The woman bowed her head and spoke: "My king, four years ago, I worked here in the palace as a maid. I was fired four years ago when I became pregnant. This is the child to whom I gave birth. But now I am sick. The doctors estimate that I won't survive past six months. The boy has no one else. No one but you."
"But why do you bring him to me?" Breccan inquired. "Surely, you must have relatives or friends who could take him in. Who am I to the child?"
The woman locked eyes with Breccan and replied, "You are his father, my king."
Kalila took a deep breath and glared in the general direction of her husband suspiciously, jealously, but exhaled upon seeing the shock on Breccan's face. "You must be mistaken, dear lady," he chuckled nervously. "I never- we never- it's not possible. I understand that you want the best for your son and what better way to ensure he lives a good life than to claim that he is the son of the king? But I am afraid that you are mistaken. You should bring him to his real father."
A look of deep disappointment and even pain fell upon the woman's face as she took the boy's hand, leading him out the door. Kalila leaned in to whisper to Breccan. "Sweetie, are you sure he isn't yours? I wouldn't be mad. It was four years ago. That was before we were really serious. And you must admit, the boy does resemble you."
Breccan shakes his head. "No. He's not mine."
"How can you be so sure?" Kalila asked laughingly. "I'm sure you must've indulged with the staff on at least one occasion. I hear it's royal tradition."
Breccan's face flushed red as he stammered, "Well, uh, actually, I, uh, no. I- I never did that. My brothers..." His voice trailed off as the thought hit him. "My brothers. He must be one of theirs." He took off running after the lady and stopped her. "I know he isn't mine, my dear lady, but I will gladly take my nephew in as my own." He scooped the child up in his arms and the boy stared at him wide-eyed. "I can promise you he will be well taken care of. What's your name?"
The boy gulped, gasping, "Tybbie."
"That's what he goes by," his mother replied. "His full name is Tybalt. Tybalt Petros Uriah."
Breccan grinned at his nephew. "Fantastic name! Don't worry, dear woman. He's in good hands." With that, he let the boy say goodbye to his mother before returning to Kalila. He set the boy down to play at their feet. Kalila smiled kindly at her husband. "I couldn't help it," Breccan explained himself. "He's my nephew. I couldn't let him live like he would have. Besides, he's a little sweetheart."
"No, you're a little sweetheart," Kalila replied.
“The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places.
But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now
mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
This message was edited 8/29/2015, 6:03 PM
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