Valiant (*On Hold*)

1 Before - Adelaide

"You aren't doing it right," Aislynn pouted, reaching out to grasp my hand in her own. "Hold your palms up. Like this. And don't let me slap them. You must pull away at the last moment. That's the game."

I smiled slyly at her and waited for her to pull back. At the last second, I jerked my hands away and her blow landed upon her own knee which was, coincidentally, bumping soundly against mine in this rattling carriage. She hissed in pain and then looked up to find me smirking mischievously and we both burst into a fit of giggles. Our elder brother, Alder, sighed at that, rolling his all knowing eleven year old boy eyes as he turned to our mother.

"Mother," he tried in exasperation. "How much more of these childish games shall I endure?"

"Your sisters are merely entertaining themselves," our mother responded. "I suggest you do the same, Alder. Sulking does not become you."

He had been sulking. I wasn't sure why. I thought perhaps it had something to do with the Princess of Vyndoli. I had heard mother and father speaking of it as they packed for this very journey. Father had claimed that our country of Etzera had desperate need of an alliance with our neighbors of Vyndoli and, hours later, we had all been shoved aboard this wagon and sent in the direction of the southern country. Mother seemed to be preparing Alder for something, doting on him less than usual, giving him remonstrations on how to behave and how to be strong. Aislynn and I had noticed it immediately and, as we were born together and therefore of one mind, we reasoned it out quickly enough. Our brother was to be offered for the princess in exchange for Vyndoli's support. As an eight year old girl, I did not know much of the world. But as a princess, I knew of my own part in it. And I was more acutely aware of possible betrothals than anything else.

Suddenly, my father held a fist in the air out the window of the carriage and the whole procession was stopping. Aislynn's knees bumped hard against my own as she slid forward at the sudden halt. I gritted my teeth and rubbed the sore skin but followed after my parents and siblings who led the way out of the confined space of the wagon. Outside, the air was crisp and I filled my lungs as I looked around. We were on a trail midway through the forest. I gazed at the treeline, itching to explore.

"Mother," I heard the pleading in my sister's voice as we turned our wide eyes to the Queen. "Can we play? Please?"

Our mother cast her eyes around briefly as if checking for obvious threats. Soothed by the dozen soldiers our father had brought south with us, she smiled. "Very well. But do not stray too far. We won't be stopped for long."

We squealed with delight and ran off for the trees, giggling the whole way. It was only when we reached the edge of the woods that Aislynn realized she had left her doll in the carriage. I knew her well enough to know that she would be a frightened wreck without it and, because I was always the faster runner between us, I offered to retrieve it for her. So off I went, back to the wagon to fetch the doll. The moment my small fist closed around it's leg, however, I heard my parents' hushed tones and froze.

"Are you sure this will work?" my mother was asking.

"No," My father answered honestly. "I hear King Preston adores his daughter more than anything. It is possible that he is the type of fool who refuses to promise his precious little girl to anyone, even my heir. But he has a son as well. And we have two daughters."

"The twins? Averill, you cannot separate them. Bishop Harlow says it is unwise to separate twins. Especially at such a young age. It turns them bitter."

"We all must do our duty for our country, Arantxa. If it comes to it, the girls will do theirs."

I snatched the doll and sprinted back to the forest. I found Aislynn already quite a ways into the trees, bent over a patch of beautiful yellow flowers, the long Auburn hair we shared falling in waves over her shoulder. I handed her the doll and she thanked me but then, because of the bond that we shared, asked. "What's wrong?"