After a bath and being dressed in new, overly complicated noblewear. Roskva was pulled back down to the grand hall. Where she was left to admire the majesty of the palace. Stained glass windows that told stories and legends, murals and tapestries that served the same purpose but closer. With gemstones and precious metals woven into their threads.
“Oh there you are.”
Roskva turned to the prince, dressed now with a crown and golden braided cords along his jacket to show his status.
“Just admiring all there is to see.” Roskva smiled. She looked up at the crystal chandeliers in the high ceilings. “I’ve never seen a ceiling so high. Or been somewhere I couldn’t jump and slap the ceiling.”
“If you can jump and touch the ceiling here then I’d say you’re more full of surprises than I expected.” Starkon chuckled. Roskva grinned and giggled. “Well, why don’t I give you a full tour of the palace? Show you all there is to see?”
“I would love that so much!” Roskva gasped. She clasped her hands together danced around she ran to the prince’s side and held out her hand for him. He slid his arm around hers and gestured to the open hall.
“This is the grand hall. Where all our noble guests are led into before being led to wherever they need to go.” Prince Starkon said. Then he swept Roskva along the hall and into one set of giant double doors.
“The throne room,” the prince introduced. Opening the doors and showing Roskva the large presentation room where a little stage at the far end held three thrones. A large one, decorated in golden skulls. A medium one, decorated with silver songbirds. And finally a smaller one with shined copper butterflies.
“Oh! Aneira loves butterflies!” Roskva gushed. “Butterflies love them too! They are always around them whenever they’re outside. I get a little jealous sometimes.”
“That throne is for the crowned heir. Which, while my father and mother were alive, was me. Now it’s kept for when I take a spouse and my own heir is produced.” The prince said distantly. Roskva sighed romantically.
“That’s so sweet.” She said.
“Come on,” Prince Starkon said with a little pull. “There’s more to see.” He led her to the side giving a knock and showing Roskva the washroom. Then through a pair of glazed windowed doors.
“The grand dining hall.” He introduced. His voice bouncing off the high ceilings. Making the chandeliers jingle with the echo. Beneath the three opulent chandeliers was a giant wooden table with places for at least a hundred diners.
“How in the world would you see everyone at the table, sitting here?!” Roskva’s jaw hit the floor. At the moment, the table was bare with exception of a golden embroidered table runner with different summer flowers sewn on it. Large vases filled with fresh picked flowers marked the center of the table in four seated segments. The head of the table marked by the large wooden chair that had a golden skull on the top.
“Lots of skull imagery…” Roskva said as she inspected it.
“It’s our kingdom's legend.” Starkon said proudly. “How we conquered death and took back the life of the Queen from the River and the wicked Do’laeth.”
“Wicked?” Roskva asked. “That’s not the story we were told growing up.”
“You weren’t told about the Do’laeth and the river of death and how the Queen nearly succumbed to it?” Now it was the prince’s turn to drop his jaw.
“I mean…” Roskva stepped back. “I was told a version of that story by my father. But he told the story of a prince who met a Do’laeth and fell in love. Sacrificing himself to save the queen and living forever with his true love.”
“That’s not the story, but I imagine it sounds good when telling it to children.” The prince said sympathetically. “We tell the story of how the Queen, my grandmother, was destined to die. But my grandfather and his sons rose to fight the Do’laeth in an honorable battle to save her. The fight was bloody and there were many losses. But the Queen’s life was spared. But at the cost of her husband and two sons. Leaving only her eldest son’s widow.”
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“That’s horrible.” Roskva said, “I think I prefer my father’s version.”
“You’ll come around to feel the pride of it eventually.” Starkon took Roskva’s hand and continued the tour. Showing her the kitchens, the reading room, the greenhouse.
“Wow. We’ve only gotten up the stairs and I’m already exhausted!” Roskva said as she got up the grand staircase.
“We can take a break in the portrait hall.” Starkon said, leading Roskva to the grand double doors. Opening them and revealing a giant hall filled with giant painted portraits as big as Roskva was tall. Every portrait showing a regal crowned prince, princess, king or queen for generations.
“This is all my family, going back for who knows how long.” Starkon gestured to all the pictures. Roskva wandered into the hall, looking at the painted depictions. However, one made them stop.
“Who’s this?” Roskva asked.
“The Lost Prince, Viordr.” Starkon walked to Roskva’s side. “He was the youngest son that was lost in the battle with death.”
“He’s very familiar…” Roskva said, staring hard at the painted face.
“Is he?” Starkon asked, seemingly concerned. “Since the pair were lost we had a terrible problem with many bad faith actors who’ve tried to claim royalty. It’s so bad that we’ve had to make a law to dissuade it.”
“Really?” Roskva said, still staring at the painting. Trying to figure out why the prince looked so familiar.
“Sadly.” The prince stared at Roskva. “But if you have any information, please share.”
“I don’t know, I don’t quite remember.” Roskva sighed and shook her head. “I swear I’ve seen that face, but I can’t remember when.”
“You think your sibling would?” Starkon asked quickly.
“Maybe,” Roskva nodded. Looking away from the painting. “It’s possible.”
“Good, maybe we’ll solve an ancient mystery.” Starkon said thoughtfully. “I would love to finish this tour but I think I have an appointment. You don’t mind continuing on, on your own, would you?”
“I guess not…” Roskva said, trying to hide her disappointment. “It must be hard to be the crowned prince.”
“You have no idea,” Starkon smiled and pat the back of her hand before leaving her alone in the portrait hall. Roskva waved at him though he didn’t look back at her. Then she turned back to the portrait of the lost prince. Looking deep into the eyes to try and glean a hint as to why he looked so familiar.
“I beg your pardon,” A young maiden asked, entering the portrait hall. “I don’t mean to interrupt, my name’s Zuri, I’m your personal handmaiden while you’re our guest.”
“Hi Zuri! I’m Roskva.” Roskva turned to face the younger woman. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about what a handmaiden does.”
“I’m here to answer your every need.” Zuri said, clasping her hands together and not looking Roskva in the eye. “Anything you wish, I will grant.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of pressure.” Roskva said. Feeling self conscious of her face. “I can’t imagine anything I need or want.”
“Then you can pretend I’m not here, miss.” Zuri bowed again and stepped back against the wall. Roskva stared at the girl for a silent minute.
“Uhm, are you just going to stand there until I ask after you?” Roskva asked.
“I will follow you silently until you need me, yes.” Zuri said. “If I am bothering you, I can wait outside.”
“Oh, no. I just. It seems a bit strange to me. That’s all.” Roskva said. She turned back to the portrait. “Do you know anything about this painting?”
“Not currently. It was done by the same artist that did the other paintings of the royal family.” Zuri said. “The prince was lost in the war with Tyrsande.”
“Huh.” Roskva said absently. “You think there’s any way we could meet the artist?”
“I’m… not sure.” Zuri said, surprised. “I can check on that for you.”
“We can check on it together,” Roskva smiled. Holding out her arm for her handmaiden to accompany her. Zuri looked at her arm worriedly.
“I am not allowed to interact with nobility.” She said quietly.
“Well I’m not technically nobility. I’m a guest.” Roskva smiled. “You don’t have to worry about me, I won’t get you in trouble.”
“But what about the others? Those who see me?” Zuri asked, then she shook her head. “No. I’m sorry but I need this job. I can’t risk it. I’ll fetch the artist.” Zuri ran off before Roskva could stop her. Roskva drew a breath, feeling the lonely hall.
“Must be so hard to be alone in this big old palace with no one to talk to.” Roskva said to herself. “I ought to do something nice so the prince doesn’t feel so alone!” Roskva skipped off, looking for something to do for Starkon.