AUDREY FLAMESWORTH

They had called her, screaming her name while she ran from them. Audrey. My child. Young lady. The things she was known by sought her ears annoyingly, but they were all faded now, it was as though they had grown tired of the calling, the same as she was tired of hearing their calls, except that was hardly the case, they had merely just lost track of where she had wandered off to, and the hollers would resurface if they found out she had chosen the quiet rustles of the flower garden to conceal her presence.

It was with the dress they woke her to the crows of roosters and the warmth of the sun when the day began for her, the dress that might bind her to the king, the man she had never seen and the man she had no longing for, but it came nevertheless, per Lord Winston’s orders.

Her servants had brought it to her, a silver satin-silk dress to match her hair, one embossed in rose-gold with the sigil of her house: a phoenix grasping a sword with its talons. A golden corset came with the dress, one that would extend from below her breasts to her hips if the gown graced her body. There also came a scarf for her arms, a blue one, and a silver choker which had the grip of a tender hand. It all looked lovely, so much that she would have loved to wear it any other time, but not this time, it came with the memories of what her father was forcing her to do: marry the king, for yourself and for our family. It was never for herself, it was for him and him alone, nothing about getting holed up in a castle with neither freedom nor genuine friends was for her benefit. Nothing. And she hated it.

The only thing she was hearing now was the rush of water from the small fountain at the centre of the garden. She knelt an elegant giant to the bed of lilies she gazed upon. The scent of various other flowers filled her nose, but she focused on the one of the lilies, she always focused on their scents whenever she graced their bed, they were her favourites, she loved them up to the point that she took their smell and made it hers, she smelled like them even now.

The warmth of the sun felt her skin, through the soft linen gown she had made her servants prepare for her, when she wanted to confront her father: the silver haired lord of Flamesworth. The confrontation had ended the way it always did, but the gown was still on her body, smeared with little trickles of sweat that ran down from between her breasts. It matched the colour of her hazel earrings, but even though it was what was on her body, the lilies were more beautiful. She would wear the flowers if they were possible, having their scent was not enough, they calmed her whenever, they were meant for her and her alone.

“I knew I would find you here.” A voice came forth and withdrew her from the serenity her lilies gave her, but with it came its own peace, a different type of peace. It was a calm voice, one that talked a lot and she had heard a lot, but still loved listening to, and it was blessing her ears now, the voice of her steward, Renly Bailiff. He came, she knew he would be the one to find her, and she was glad she now had someone that would listen to her complaints, but she would not show him how glad she was, not now and maybe not ever.

“Why are you here?” She asked, her eyes still on the lilies. The sound of boots went from a muffled thump to a silent and gentle crunch as it drew closer, going from floor to grass. Renly came from the direction of the fountain, walking past the bed of flowers and herbs at both his left and right, and towards the bed she knelt before, the last one at the edge of the garden, the bed of lilies. When the sound of boot on grass grew closer and she noticed he was almost upon her, she stood to her unsheltered feets, and retreated beneath the wide canopies of the common beech distinguishing itself at the end of the garden.

She sat with her back to the silver-grey bark of the common beech which had grown to have a more rugged texture than smooth, but it mattered little to her, the sun could not see her completely here beneath the beech’s leaves, which had been given the beauty of golden-brown by the arrival of autumn, that was what mattered. If only the tree was a pathway to an entirely different place, she would no doubt go through that path and escape entirely from here. She would miss her lilies, and Renly, she could take Renly if she so pleased, he was her steward afterall. But there was someone she could not take, her brother… she would miss him. The pathway was not of existence, so what she thought about was null and void, the reality was what she suspected Renly Bailiff was about to say to her, and she knew there was no escape, tantrums were just a momentary backtrack from reality, it lasted not for long.

“My lady. How did your night’s sleep go?” Renly greeted, for it was the first they had seen today. He was before her now, but she still chose not to look at him, she left him with her braided silver hair to gaze upon, her eyes lowered to her outstretched feets and constantly curling toes. She could not even see his boots, all she knew was that he stood somewhere close to her.

“How do you think my night’s sleep went, Bailiff?” She asked sarcastically, rustling the green with her curled toes.

And he answered, “I would say it went well. May I sit? My legs are aching more than ever from finding you.”

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“I did not request for you, all you did you did on your own, so you shall only sit when I tell you to,” Audrey shot a reply sharply. She was fierce when she felt like it, second to only Lady Theodora, her mother, if not more. Truly a queen material. She added, “You tell me why you’re here.”

“That I shall when you offer me a place by your side.” She did not look up at him, but she could picture his stern resolve plastered all over the long jaw he had. Horse-faced is what he had always been called, when he was little and even now, she was the only one who thought of him not ugly with it, and to him, her opinion outweighed the one of many others.

Her opinion now was not of his face, and she didn’t care for his back and forth. “I command you to speak or leave,” she fumed, chagrined at his stubbornness, as though she was not the same as him.

“When you offer me comfort, my lady.” His stubbornness kept up with hers, unrelenting.

“Fine. Then I command you to leave! Do not speak and just leave. Leave me be!”

“That I cannot do as well, my lady,” Renly answered, unseen even though he stood somewhere before her in the grand space of flowers and beauty.

The silence came, and the rush of the fountain was the only sound again, just like before, but not for long. “Why are you so stubborn?” It was a question that came forth from her lips, this time it came gently and softly, her fire had reduced to a flicker now, the back and forth was what won, but the comfort she still did not offer Renly.

“The same question Lord Winston asks himself whenever you query his decisions for you,” Renly answered, his lips were dry and the reply that came from it was a dry one that stung her sharp below her breasts. “I know how you feel, my lady, but as I have said before, your father thinks of you, highly if I’m to say, and before you make mention of it, of course he thinks of himself as well, himself and the House of Flamesworth, which is your house as well. Wedding the king is an honour in all truth, an honour befitting someone of your beauty. No mere lord or common man is enough to make you bear silver-haired children for them. You were meant for royalty and royalty alone.”

Curse you, Bailiff! She spat. This is not what I wanted to hear, this is not what I wanted you to say. You should not be siding with my father, it should be me, side with me. Her toes had stopped curling, they were now pinching each other in a fierce battle, and slowly they became blurry before her eyes. It was no longer anger, it had become frustration. It almost rained droplets from the sky-blue orb beneath her long eyelashes, before it was stopped by the voice of the hidden man.

“But, that is if you were chosen to be his bride. There’s still a chance, you may not be the one chosen by the king, that is in all ways possible. We pray to the ravens and seek their help, and maybe find a way to keep your beauty from the king’s gaze. How about that, my lady? I shall try my best to help you get rejected by the king if you will work with this horse-faced steward.” This was not what she wanted to hear, but it could make do. Why did he take so long to say it? Why? She thought to herself as she made sure her tears didn't fall, he must not see her crying, she would not have that, anything but that.

She let her eyes slowly rise. The boots came into her view first, the thick leather black high boots he wore, where a brown pant was tucked into it, then up her eyes went further, and the next she saw was his white woollen tunic, which was held at the waist for no reason by a brown belt fastened and dropping, and lastly was his face, the face that was ugly not to only her, where a moustache was faintly appearing above his upper lip, and his coiled hair vividly brown under the ray of sun. She saw his face now, she saw him.

But there was another, hidden just like him but silent for the all of it. He was shorter than her and shorter than her steward, he was far shorter. He stood beside Renly with the height of a sword plunged into the ground, his thumb lost inside his mouth, as he watched with sky-blue eyes caked with the confusion of a child, who neither understood the affairs nor discussions of the adults, little doubt of that, he was a child after all, almost upon his seventh name day.

She squealed softly as she saw him, his silver hair trimmed at the edges perfectly and beautifully, he was a cute sight with that glossed mouth of his sucking on his thumb with slight remorse. She went to her knees on the grass and let her arms go wide as she called for his embrace. “Lucian! Why are you here?”

He hurried into it with haste, his thumb soaked but finally free from that stiffening damp cave. “You are angry?” Lucian asked, his head cocked while she put him down on her lap as she went from knees to buttocks on the grass once again.

“No. No, I’m not angry. I’m not.” If there was anyone she was the softest too, then that person was on her thigh now. She loved him the most, and he undoubtedly as well, but he did not know that yet, toys and plays were still what he loved the most.

“A red leaf. It’s red, it’s red, sister.” He pat Audrey’s hand slightly insisting she let go of him, and as soon as she did, he jumped to the fallen leaves of the common beech that lay beside where she sat, plucking them one after the other while giggling.

She turned her eyes back to her steward, her brows arched in a benign dip. “Why did you not mention him?”

Renly placed his hands upon each other beneath his belt and smiled. “You did not offer me comfort.” She squinted disapprovingly, and he added, “But you see, if you had tried to look up, you would have noticed that I had come with the young lord, this is the same with your father. Now I am still of mind to help prevent the royal send-off you do not want, I want nothing more than to see you happy, but maybe if you tried to look up at Lord Winston and see where his ideologies emerge from, then maybe you would notice something, something you might be missing.”