[Anita]. chapter 1A Chapter by [Kaytken]
Anita. Chapter 1
There was music. Violins and cellos; flutes and French horns. Classical songs that I could never forget even if I desired to do so. Beautiful women with curled hair and sweet perfume, draped over the arms of their men, their gorgeous dresses squeezing them so tight that not one had much facial color. Stern-faced men in pressed suits, sporting expensive watches and sleek gelled back hair. The clinks of champagne glasses and shrill, tight-lipped laughter of enemies feigning amicability. I yawned behind my fan, scanning the Grand Hall for the dozenth time. The nerves in my rear had long ago fallen asleep, and those in my legs protested strongly that if I did not rise to my feet soon, they would follow suit. My mother, seated directly to my left, rose from her seat and took my father's arm. He rose from his seat-on my mother's left-nodding at me in a warning fashion. I was to stay put, even if my legs decided to detach themselves from the rest of me. My brother, who occupied the seat to my father's left, received the same look. I caught him scowl as Mother and Father began their progression around the Great Hall to smile, laugh, drink, and feign concern for the lives of these rich persons. “I heard that they've arranged a dance,” Christoph whispered to me, “for yourself and the Alpha's son, after the announcement.” “I don't want to dance with anybody,” I murmured. I could feel my face fall as I spoke. Swiftly, I hid my expression with my fan, “and I certainly have no desire to be betrothed to anyone.” I was suddenly hyper aware of the cool silver tiara atop my head. I had fussed and whined like a child until my mother had, out of exhaustion, agreed to let me wear it tonight. It was my favorite. Thin threads of silver weaved around one another in an intricate design, interrupted by diamonds and sapphires. It was simple and light, and came without a headache. Under the cover of my long, blue, silken dress, I stomped my high-heeled feet against the marble floor. The result was a sharp pain that radiated through my legs, awakening their nerves. Christoph shot an amused smile, leaning back the slightest bit in his chair, careful not to wrinkle his perfect suit. The hour passed painstakingly slowly. I fought to remain awake where I sat, yet calm down the anxiety that was swimming in my stomach. I could feel my heart stutter when the grand doors to the Great Hall opened, and Mother and Father plodded through the guests, towards the doors. I attempted to inconspicuously crane my neck to see who had come through the doors, but the guests all blocked my view. He was most likely a pompous fool, strung high up on a horse, merely agreeing to the peace treaty to fuel his great, lustful desires. My hands began to shake involuntarily. I did not want to do this. “Chris...” I whimpered. Christoph rose gracefully to his feet and came to my side. His shiny dress shoes clicked on the floor. His hand was steady and reassuring when he set it on my shoulder. “You're going to be fine, Anita,” he murmured to me, “they won't let anything bad happen to you.” I tried to take his words to heart, but my throat suddenly felt dry. All of the moisture suddenly reverted to my hands. I clutched the ornate tablecloth in disgust, wiping the sweat off my palms. Mother and father came closer, and I could see that they were being followed. I gulped. I knew who he was in an instant, because he was the only one of the three men who looked nervous. He was tall. At least and entire foot taller than myself. His hair wasn't gelled back like all the others in the room. Instead, it was loose, sticking up on his head. From where I stood, it looked damp. He wore loose fitting denim pants, the legs too long, so that the bottoms brushed against the floor. His shoes were a mystery. A white rubber toe and black fabric, from what I could see of them. The were scuffed and dirty, and I knew that my father secretly disapproved. The young man's dress shirt was striped blue and white vertically, neatly pressed and tucked into the waist of his pants. There was a little red bird stitched into the pocket of the shirt, and an identical one on the pocket of the jeans. This perplexed me. I was aware of all the designers, but never has I seen this petite red bird. “Christoph, Anita,” my father said formally, “this is Peter, the Alpha of the fourth Gonliff wolf pack.” The taller of the other two men stepped forward, bowing before offering me his hand. When I shook it, I had only a moment to marvel at it's warmth; how pale and tiny my own hand looked against it, before my fingers were swallowed by his long and weathered. What happened next surprised me. “Anita,” Peter smile, revealing his perfect white teeth, “I'm charmed.” His words weren't what surprised me, but rather, the was he said them. His smile was soft, his grip on my hand, gentle. His voice was overwhelmingly paternal. It seemed like he really meant it. “As am I,” I replied, almost in a whisper. And I meant it. Of all of them, I realized, taking them in. Peter was dressed the same as the young man, although he wore brown boots, similar to the ones I wore for riding, and a dress shirt that matched them. His hair was the color of dirt, long to his ears. His eyes were sincere, deep green and honest. The women beside him stepped forward. I fell in love with her hair at once. It was long, and held the appearance of most utter softness. Loose curls, a shade of red that I couldn't find a word for. Her dress was simple, white cotton, but I suddenly felt bare and unappealing beside her. Her eyes were the most captivating shade. Almost slate like. “May I introduce my wife, Cathleen?” Peter smiled and took her hand. I could feel the wonder in my face. Such displays of affection were unknown to me. Cathleen smiled, a radiant, lovely smile. My chest began to ache. “It's lovely to meet you, Anita,” she told me. She stepped forward, setting her hands on my shoulders. I could feel the surprise radiating from my father and mother as Cathleen kissed my cheek and embraced me lightly. Immediately, I was in wonderful awe. Such affection, again, was foreign to me. And now, here came this pretty stranger, with heart enough to embrace and kiss me. “Our daughter,” Peter smiled, “Chloe.” I gulped. The girl who stepped forward looked angry. Her eyes, identical to her mothers, seemed to scowl at me. “Hello.” Her voice was sharp and curt. I winced internally, nodding in response. Her dress was lovely, too. It looked soft, the color of buttermilk, with silken lace. Her hair, the color of dirt-like her father's-was swept up onto her head. She was a very pretty girl, but she was angry with me. “This is Bear, a good friend,” Peter smiled. I watched him as another boy stepped forward, and bowed. There was a smile on his lips, and wonder in his brown eyes as they danced around the hall. “Pleased to meet you,” he grinned. I smiled in response. When he stepped back, setting his hand on the angry girl's shoulder, she shoved it off; swatted his white ironed shirt with her hand. I felt my face get hot. “And this is our son, Blake,” Cathleen smiled. The nervous-looking young man stepped closer to me. He was, indeed, much taller than myself. This close, I realized that his blond hair, in fact was damp. He had his father's eyes. He bowed, gulping, slowly. He bowed the rustic way, the way that made me smile. One hand on his belt, the other against his own lower back. When he stood back, he extended his hand for me, as tan as his father's; although a little smaller. Palm up, not sideways, as though asking for- “A dance.” I stared, I had been unaware of everyone else save these lovely strangers. My father's voice, addressing me all the quiet guests, pulled me out of my awed state. I slid my gloved hand into Blake's, and allowed him to walk me onto the shiny surface of the dance floor. I turned to face him. You don't own me, I wanted to tell him. I'm not going to belong to you. This is just for our fathers' treaty. The music began and Blake set his left hand on the small of my back, still keeping a good distance between us. We moved together in the circle, slowly, not speaking. I refused to look at him. Then, the nerves in my legs and rear protested my sudden movements, and I stumbled. Blake's arms were strong when he steadied me. I heard the 'awes' of the guests. “Are you alright, princess?” Blake asked. His voice was lovely, but there was still that part of me that feared it was all a mere act. “Yes,” I responded crisply. I saw the dismay in Blake's eyes, and understood that he was truly trying. “I'm sorry,” I whispered, as Blake pushed me away gently and twirled me. When I once again faced him, we were closer to one another. “I'm sorry, too, princess,” he murmured. “I know that this situation is confusing and frightening.” “No, not frightening, nor confusing, just fast,” I responded. “Indeed,” Blake murmured. His voice sounded sad. I watched our feet move; sleek, shiny heels and dirty, scuffed cloth shoes. “Did you have a woman?” He laughed quietly, his shoulders shaking. “No,” he said, “I didn't have a woman.” He twirled me again, and when I came back, he had a puzzled look on his face. We were so close now, that I could see the individual threads of the petite red bird on his shirt. He smelled like firewood, burning, warm. “Did you have a man?” he asked. “Shakespeare,” I answered. I felt my stomach lurch when he smiled. “He's a wonderful companion.” For a moment, the two of us watched as mother and father began to dance. Blake's mother and father began to dance, holding one another very close. Closer than I had seen two people dance before. His mother's head rested on his father's shoulder. It held me in awe. Blake laughed quietly again. “Dad's an awful dancer,” he smiled. “Dad?” I asked. I looked around us, to see if anyone else was dancing, but it was only us, and our parents. “It's...the casual name for father,” Blake told me. When I looked up at him, I'm sure his confusion mirrored my own. “Parents and children are casual with one another in your Kingdom?” I asked. The very thought sent shivers down my spine. I had been forever taught to fear my elders. The knowledge and power that they posses would be forever greater than my own. I could never imagine a casualness between my father and I. But, I realized, as Blake and I continued our dace, it might be possible with my mother. My mind floated back to a summer day in the Palace garden. My mother was young and beautiful, she was holding me in her arms-singing to me-as Christoph played with his Golden Retriever, Lance, who was still young back then. I watched the sunlight grace my mother's face, snuggled against the soft fabric of her plain dress. “I love you Anita,” she had smiled, kissing my cheek. Her eyes smiled down at me. “I love you, too, mummy!” I had giggled, as Christoph bounded over, calling us and flopped into mother's lap with me. We all giggled, and she kissed us both, her beautiful- “Princess?” Blake's voice called me back, and I looked up at him. Suddenly, I was captivated; held mesmerized by the colors in his eyes. He matched my stare as we danced, oblivious to everything else. His deep green eyes, just like his fathers, swirled with traces of questions. I gulped, nervous. Blake stepped away and bowed to me as the song ended, his bow rustic and deep again. He smiled at me and kissed my hand. I blushed. Blake opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get the chance. His sister Chloe scurried over and took his arm, leading him away from me, her eyes still angry. I sighed, understanding her anger. “Princess?” The other boy who had come along with Blake stood there, a nervous smile on his face as another song began. He was wringing his hands together. He glanced nervously over his shoulder to where Chloe and Blake were dancing. I could tell by the set of Chloe's lips, she was talking angrily to him. “Would you like to dance?” Bear asked me. He held out his hand. He looked just as nervous as I was. I curtsied to him and took his hand, watching all the others in the Hall; beginning to dance or mingle, the Hall filling with noise again. “She doesn't hate you, y'know.” Bear murmured to me, as we moved together. “What?” “Chloe. She doesn't hate you.” “How do you know them? The Alpha and his family?” I asked him timidly. “Are your parents dukes? Or Lords?” “My father is the captain of the hunting team.” “I'm afraid I don't understand.” I confessed. Bear's brow puckered, and some of his ash blond hair fell into his eyes. “You don't have hunting teams here?” “No,” I told him, “we buy our meat from the farms, out on the outskirts.” “Well, where we live, we have a team of people who hunt our meat. Deer, mostly.” He twirled me and brought me back. “With guns?” I asked, picking a small ball of blue fuzz off the shoulder of his white shirt. The pocket of his shirt was embroidered by the peculiar bird, too. “No,” he smiled, “with bows and arrows.” I nodded, now. My archery lessons were a favored part of my life. “What about beef?” I asked, “don't you have cows?” “The West side of Island is farms,” he shrugged. “That's what your kingdom is called, Island?” “I know,” Bear laughed, “it's terribly unoriginal.” “A bit,” I smiled. “You'll learn to like it,” he assured me, “when you come to live there.” “I suppose, but the treaty hasn't been finalized yet. Things can change.” I was unable to keep the harsh tone from my voice. “I won't allow you to take her that easily, be warmed.” I turned and smiled at Christoph, whose hand was held out to me. “May I intrude?” he asked. Bear bowed, smiled shyly at me, and walked over towards where Blake was dancing with his sister. As Christoph took my hand, I watched Bear interrupt, and dance with Chloe, who's face became even more upset. For a long moment I watched Blake, until he caught my eye. “How are they?” Christoph inquired. “Tolerable,” I responded. “They are, indeed, a mystery.” “Oh no,” Christoph whispered, cupping my face in his hands, “the you'll not refuse their company?” “What do you mean?” I demanded. Christoph laughed. “One thing you'll not refuse is a mystery,” he said. “And he,” Christoph pointed to Blake across the Hall, who was dancing with his mother, now, another act that held me captivates. “He seems like the perfect mystery, doesn't he?” As I watched Blake's mother laugh openly at something he had told her, I realized that Christoph was right. Blake's entire existence was a mystery to me. The thought of walking through the Gardens with him, touching each flower; shying away from every bee, all the while pestering him with questions about his life as he asked me about mine, was an honestly intoxicating idea. I could almost see it as clear as I could see Christoph's puzzled face now. Maybe I had been reading too much. The next hour passed a great deal like the previous. Except of course, that my legs were begging for solace from the dancing. I would have offered my silken bracelets to the first person who could have granted such a wish. I danced with a number of young men, all the same to me. Their faces were pale as I was; their steps mechanical; their hobbies and interests all the same. Their names escaped me merely moments after they'd spoken them. “and really it isn't that difficult,” the redhead who now had my waist was drowning about something surrounding the field of computers. I stifled a yet another yawn, holding back a grimace for my poor feet. “May I intrude?” A velvety voice asked. I felt my sigh of relief radiate through me. The redhead bowed, and stepped away. A second later, Blake's hands replaced his, right hand on the small of my back, left hand in my own. “You seem dead on your feet, Princess,” he smiled. I sighed, and leaned my weight against him. He held me up as though I was no lighter than a feather. “I feel that way,” I confessed, yawning. Blake's scent filled my nose and fogged my head. I sighed. “Would you refuse my company tomorrow?” Blake murmured. I felt his hand tracing up and down my spine, making me even more fatigued. “No,” I yawned against his shoulder, “what time should I expect you?” “In the afternoon,” he answered softly, “I'll allow you time to sleep.” “Hmmm,” I sighed, shaking my head as he twirled me. “Thank you.” The last notes of the song died away and Blake bowed, rustic and low, sending a smile across my face. Peter, Cathleen, Chloe and Bear were by the door to the Great Hall. Blake looked back at them, then at me. He took my gloved hand and kissed it gently. “I'll see you tomorrow, Princess,” he breathed. “Yes,” was all I could manage. Blake smiled at me one last time and vanished out the door with his family. I didn't stay to enjoy the feast with everyone else. I excused myself and plodded up to my bedroom just as the maid laid out my nightclothes. When I entered my bedroom, she curtsied, and left me in peace. I changed slowly, setting my tiara on the shelf with the others. They certainly were a mysterious bunch, the Alpha's family. I ran over the details of every one of them as I crawled beneath my thick blankets, closing my aching eyes, though, somehow, Blake and Chloe didn't seem as true as they had. Perhaps Chloe was too angry, in my mind; Blake too nervous.
© 2009 [Kaytken] |
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1 Review Added on February 17, 2009 Last Updated on March 1, 2009 Author[Kaytken]Falmouth, MAAboutHey, I'm Kaytlen. I love to read, write, sing, and pretty much do anything that is a form of art. I'm currently writing my own book and finishing a book my friend started. Someday, like many peop.. more..Writing
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