A Tale of Two Kingdoms

Ysabel replied indignantly, "I'd like to have seen you trying to handle those two without my assistance."

But unlike Lukas, who would have argumentatively scoffed at that, Damon simply gave her a level look and after a thoughtful pause, shrugged. "You're right, of course. It would have been difficult. However, I'm guessing that spurt of action and bravery was a one off." This last was said as typically, boyish scoff.

Ysabel looked at her hands. "I do try but then I always get scared and end up running instead of facing them."

Damon looked her up and down, shaking his head at the pathetic and smeared tear stained face. Having grown up in a large city in Sydnam, Damon had been exposed to people from various kingdoms but he knew full well how bigoted some Sydnam people were, even in this modern day and age.

"Perhaps it's best not to confront them after all...and keep out of their way. And if it's as bad as you say, tell someone. Your father, perhaps."

Were it him, he'd tell no one. He'd sooner die than palm his problems onto someone else like a snivelling infant.

"No," Ysabel piped up quickly. "Not father -- please, I'll keep well clear of them from now on...I know I should stick to the house but I become so bored and lonely..." she looked away wistfully. "Just walking about the forest for a short time can make me feel better. Do you know," she had paused then thoughtfully, her face lighting up as a thought struck her suddenly, "grandmother sent me some beads from Naru for my birthday. They're made from crushed Naru stone and are supposed to contain magic to keep you safe - maybe I could put them into a bracelet like mother suggested and use them as a protection charm against the boys?"

Damon snorted but at the girls affronted expression sobered slightly.

Ysabel eyed him levelly and Damon shifted uncomfortably at the intense surveillance. "Do you mean to say you don't believe in magic and its powers - not even a little?"

Shaking his head in exasperation, Damon relayed that indeed he did not.

"Well, I think that's sad," Ysabel sniffed. "In Naru, everyone believes -- even father believes now though it took some convincing from mother, mind."

Damon knew enough about men and women at fifteen to know how that method of convincing must have gone.

"Many years ago, magic even played a large part in the marriages of the royals. The Balaris royals, for example -- and even the Sydnam royals at some point. It's true," she nodded enthusiastically at his narrowed, skeptical expression. "Marriages were arranged by making sure the match was approved by the cosmos -- the princesses and princes all had their mates and couldn't marry until they found them."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Well, if you've heard that somewhere, it must have been a tradition from hundreds of years ago. Thousands, even. It's a stupid, tradition and no wonder it's merely confined to history books now."

Lifting her chin in the air, Ysabel eyed him intently. "Well I think its lovely -- just imagine," she sighed, "one man -- or woman -- solely existing just for you...for you to eventually find. How perfect."

The girlish trilling was Damon's queue to leave, and he hurried to his feet, eager to catch up to his friend -- and berate him for abandoning him with the girl.

Ysabel rose too then and dusted down her wrinkled long dress. "They'll be gone by now, shamed that they were bested by a single boy and a girl. Won't you come home with me?" she implored then. "You can help me string the beads up into bracelets and we can make you one, too."

"Er, thanks but no. Lukas and I were supposed to go to the stream at the bottom of the forest, so..."

With pursed lips, Ysabel nodded solemnly, looking very martyred at the obvious rejection and Damon rolled his eyes to the heavens, never good around children and females even less. He wanted nothing more than to be as far away as possible from the girl and her missish demands and tried to do so as manfully as possible now.

"Look, I'll walk you back to your house, alright?"

"Very well," Ysabel held out a hand and gave Damon a sharp glance at his look of horror. Muttering loudly and cursing under his breath, he grabbed hold of the small, palm with much reluctance before traipsing out of the forest with her, looking very beleaguered at his plight.

*

During the four weeks Lukas and Damon were home for, things improved somewhat. For one, the more resilient of her tormentors seemed to back of, mostly, Ysabel supposed, because Damon had gone and told her father about their bullying and having been none the wiser prior to that, Lindsen had been furious. At Ysabel as well as the village folk.

She had not wanted to involve her father, knowing how proud her mother was and how she had endeavoured not to trouble him and when an argument had ensued between her parents over her mother's hushed lips -- the first roaring match she had ever witnessed between them -- she had felt guilty and scared. Duly chastened by her father and feeling pathetic for having to have her father fight her battles, Ysabel had felt betrayed by Damon and so had reverted back to treating the boy frostily.

*

As Lukas bid farewell on the morning of his departure, Ysabel morosely waited outside by her father's horse. Last night, the realisation of the future had hit her full force. With her brother's presence these past weeks, it had been far less lonely. But now that he was leaving, she knew that things would be miserable -- and then what if that the past animosity of the villagers returned? Wallowing in self-pity and misery, Ysabel turned into the father's horse, resting her face against its neck, rubbing at it a little roughly as she tried to control her woe.

*

Damon shrugged his cloth bag over his shoulder and sighed restlessly as he waited for Lukas to join him, his attention reluctantly caught by the pitying sight of his schoolmates younger sister with her tearstained cheeks.

Though she hadn't talked to him much nor shown any inclination to coddle him since his talk with her father - clearly a glad consequence of his blabbing - he nevertheless felt guilty and a little affronted of her vehement attempt to ignore him.

"There now," he walked over to her and noted her father's rather skittish horse who found female theatrics just as uncomfortable as he did and ploughed ahead awkwardly. He was touched that the girl cared so strongly for her brother. He wondered what it would have been like to have such a family as Lukas and envied him quite a lot in that respect.

"There's no need for all of that. If it's the lads you're worried about, you'll be able to handle them well enough now should you find yourself set upon after that trick I taught you with the hand," he mimed the upwards motion with the heel of his hand once more. He had taught her that after dinner that very evening in which he and Ysabel had been confronted by the two sniveller's.

"Rat Face did bleed quite a bit," Ysabel agreed slowly. "His nose had been looking quite bulbous ever since."

"Exactly," Damon nodded, showing her then how to properly stroke the fitful horse.

"I wish you hadn't told father," she said in a small voice then and Damon sighed in exasperation and shook his head.

"Look, I didn't do it to be spiteful -- I genuinely thought it was necessary," and there he frowned, looking suddenly stern and very far from a fifteen year old boy and much more like a schoolmaster. "You'll be all alone for those nitwits to do as they please, you must be more practically minded."

Ysabel sniffed. "If you were here, they wouldn't even try it. You were so brave," she added shyly.

Damon lifted her shoulders. "Not particularly. I'm sure Lukas would have done the same."

Ysabel shook her head, slowly. "No -- he's scared of them, I think. He's never stood up for me before -- well, not like you did. Will you really come back with Damon on your next break?" she said then.

"I said so, didn't I?" he replied, eager to be away and on the road then, for he wasn't much good at dealing with children and the girl's suddenly boisterous demeanour from her prior sadness -- and rudeness - bemused him.

"Well, I'm glad you came over - I was going to set things right between us before you left anyway," she smiled and turned away, fumbling about in the long pocket on her skirt. "Here," she said then, timidly. "I made this for you -- and one for Lukas, too. His is green because I ran out of the nice beads to make another...but grey is still a nice colour, isn't it?"

Damon stared at the beaded bracelet in the girl's small palm, despair clear on his face.

"It's that good luck bracelet we talked about making, remember? I had enough beads for three," she explained. "It's magic," her tone was wistful as she made a waving motion for him to give her his hand.

"And I told you I didn't believe in all of that crude rubbish," Damon snapped impatiently.

"Crude...that's the way all of you Sydnam's see us, isn't it?" Ysabel demanded, two pink spots appearing on her cheeks.

"What -? No," Damon shook his head feeling a fool. "That isn't what I meant," he sighed but knew it was a stupid choice of words. Naru had too long been called inferior, uncivilised -- crude -- in its customs and culture when compared to Sydnam but Damon had no ill feelings toward the kingdom and the girl's heated face made him feel rightly shamed.

"Sometimes," he paused, making sure he would make sense, "it's nice to feel that there is something, or someone, protecting you," he waved generally at the bracelet. "I know what it is to feel alone," he lifted his eyes at her, not feeling inordinately put out or embarrassed baring this small piece of information, for she was only a child and would soon forget. Perhaps she would feel less alone if she knew that there were others who felt the same, he conceded. "But you'll be ok, really," he smiled then. "Ok?"

Eyes shining, Ysabel nodded but too late Damon saw the intent in her eyes and stepped away, shaking his head vigorously.

"Listen-" but before he could refuse, Ysabel had pawed at his arm and secured the bracelet there with no less than half a dozen tight knots. "There," Ysabel surveyed her handiwork proudly. "Now you'll never loose it and you'll always be protected. And you'll never be alone again, for we can be bracelet friends."

Shaking his head, Damon attempted to get the cursed thing off once she turned her back from him to coo at the horse but met with no success.

Lukas soon joined him then and cheerily told his sister not to miss him too much and to the urchin's credit, she didn't weep or act up. She simply looked at him solemnly and told him to be safe and not to forget to send her the sweets he had promised her. At that she had paused and shifted her eyes to Damon, thoughtfully, her look rapidly becoming calculating.

"Mother sends Lukas a food package every month and makes me write him but seeing as how he's generally ungrateful and never replies, I think I shall send my monthly letters to you from now on."

As Damon began to hurriedly open his mouth to reply, Ysabel arched her brows and continued, "You don't have to reply. But maybe now and then you can send me those green sweets with the pink middle -- Lukas says you can get them at every shop in Sydnam but he always forgets to bring them back for me."

"She's talking about the royal Sydnam confectionary...the green sugared sweets," Lukas shook his head in exasperation.

"Well?" Ysabel pressed.

"Oh, just leave him alone, will you? Lord," Lukas rolled his eyes. "Don't listen to her. Come on, we'd best get going."

As they rode out of the tiny village, Damon imprinted its tranquillity onto his mind, locking it away for when he returned -- if he returned. For he had learned never to be certain on anything nor to rely foolishly on any one thing.

Too soon, the village, including its occupants, were forgotten; the pretty, soft spoken dark haired mother, the easy and amiable presence of Lukas's father and of course the little grubby girl who had reluctantly charmed a commitment out of him. With a friendship bracelet and promise for sweets. Well, no doubt she'd forget about the latter before too long and the bracelet could be easily removed with a knife. With some relief at those thoughts, he felt his mind lighten somewhat.

*

Ten years later

Ysabel sliced the envelope open with a blunt knife and emptied the contents onto her bed, wrinkling her nose at the sight that met her eyes. This looked to be a new concoction and she was sorely disappointed not to have received her favourite confectionary. As her brother was so lax and forgetful, he barely ever sent letters anymore...but a lot had changed over the years. But true to his long ago word, his school friend, Damon, more than made up for it.

Almost vaguely, Ysabel mused over how the transaction had developed into an ongoing but irregular and almost absent-minded, involuntary thing on both their parts - that every few months -- sometimes as long as half a year, mind -- a small envelope would arrive bearing a small selection of Sydnam sweets or those from another kingdom in whatever city or town Damon was working in, for judging by the extensive and exotic samples she had received over the years, he wasn't a fan of staying in anyone place for long enough. Of course, he had only relented after a time; Lukas had brought him back the following summer and Ysabel had interrogated him, asking if had received the many letters she sent to the school since his last visit. Blushing, he had murmured an indecipherable response and eventually admitted that he had at her unyielding stare.

"Then why didn't you send me any sweets?" Ysabel had inquired archly and Damon had looked at her in bemusement before visibly relaxing.

"Is that really all you want? You don't expect me to read - I mean, reply to the letters?" he said quickly.

"I thought we were friends?" Ysabel's declaration had been hesitant.

"We are," Damon had replied very quickly, clearly not wanting to cause any theatrics. "look, all right -- you know, I love those ones too. The green sweets, wasn't it? I'm also partial to the square yellow ones,"

there had never been an accompanying letter, no words from the boy himself although now and then she would receive an address but this wasn't often. Yet when she did have one, she was sure to carry out her ritual of sending a letter containing silly things which made her feel better once she had unloaded for it didn't seem to matter much what she said because to her, the occupant on the receiving end seemed almost like someone she had conjured up in her mind.

And then there was the fact that she knew he never read the things. She had grilled him on his third visit and last visit, that same year at winter break. It seemed so long ago now as she thought back.

He had looked at her in exasperation and admitted that he had truly tried to become invested in her argument with Fioni and Bethanie about the meaning of true friendship but that other things demanded his attention. He had added kindly then that he appreciated the gesture since all the other boys seemed to be inundated with parcels and such from family -- and girlfriends, though he never mentioned the last -- and he kind of felt left out.

She thought perhaps he was saying this to placate her but then when she recalled that he had no parents and must surely not be so close to these relatives who had taken him and paid for his studies, she had felt an almost maternal feeling spilling over her. From then on, she had never once missed sending him her missive every few months and thus the ritual had been set.

"Are you ready?"

The impatient voice brought her back to the present and stuffing the sweets into her bag, she Ysabel nodded and followed her step-sister out of her bedroom.

*

"Must you be so miserable?"

Ysabel glanced across at her poised sister with narrowed eyes. The carriage jostled and jerked as it negotiated its way along the uneven terrain, yet Dana was positively glowing and unruffled. To her, this trip was an event she could crow about to her friends back at home...well, that was if Dana's life plan fell through so that it meant she had to return home.

They had started the journey two weeks ago in a public, large, crowded vehicle which after the fourteen days had changed to a separate carriage. Her father had been brow-beaten into hiring an expensive carriage to take them the rest of the way to her (step) aunts house on account her step mothers constant, shrill complaints which had eventually grated on everyone, including her usually loyal daughter, Dana.

Shifting in her seat, Ysabel looked down at the blonde head lying on her lap and sighed. Madsen had been asleep for hours now and his heavy head was starting to numb her legs but feeling guilty for her thoughts, since it often seemed like he was thoroughly neglected by everyone else leaving herself in the role as primary care-taker, she patted his head absently and lay her head back against the wall of the carriage, contemplating the scenery vaguely.

"I cannot believe how vibrant it is here...father surely even you must admit how crude our village seems in comparison?" Dana remarked, her face glued on the sight beyond the carriage window.

The man lifted his shoulders vaguely before closing his eyes for a brief nap and Dana huffed at his indifference but her dissatisfaction was short lived as her mind wandered.

"And finally I shall be able to purchase new gowns instead of having them all altered and re-stitched by botch-job Mari in the village," her eyes gleamed as she craned her head, trying to get a better view of a colourful looking shop display of beautifully crafted gowns.

One thing Ysabel noted immediately and despaired of was how much the mode of dress differed. Back in their village, nobody paid much mind to Ysabel and so she was more or less free to go about as she pleased. She often wore the daily dress of her late mother's people in the hotter months, and Dana spiteful declared that the Naru's dressed like uncivilised folk by baring their skin to the degree but when it was that hot, Ysabel couldn't summon the strength to care.

She looked down at her attire then; a simple, narrow white floor length skirt, fitted just above the hips and with a slight slit at the back for ease of movement. The top was also white and sleeveless with thick straps and ended at her midriff. The length of the top was a matter of preference. But as she gazed out of the carriage windows at the passing women and children, she realised that such attire would not be appropriate which rubbed her sorely.

"There is so much I wish to see: I must go to Phoebe's garment plaza and purchase new fabrics. Apparently, she carries-"

Ysabel groaned and her sister bestowed an unflattering look upon her but it was Sara who spoke.

"It would serve you well to come along too, Ysabel. You can't expect to spend the next two weeks walking around in those shabby clothes. Those few gowns you have won't serve you for long, mark me and you will surely embarrass us all walking about in those... garments."

Closing her ears to her Dana's rambling, Ysabel stared at the passing scenery, If only her father had let her stay home -- but no, he had insisted she come along to; why, she didn't know. She could have kept Madsen with her. But her father wasn't a verbose, nor overly tolerant kind of man these days so she'd relented. It would be a long, painful and unnecessary stay, she determined.

*

Having been confined to her Aunt's house (which she was obliged to call her, having been heckled into doing by her step mother) for the past week, a week in which her sister has been introduced to a succession of upstanding Sydnam men after another, Ysabel was almost eager as they set off for the market place in the royal city a few days later.