"When Daffodils Begin to Peer"

Chapter One

"My prince, our beloved king requests another audience with you this morn. We are to take you there after breakfast with our dearest queen." John, the leader of my personal guard informed me in a firm voice.

"I'll be ready momentarily, thank you Sir John." I answered, my voice thick with sleep. I groan as I stretch my stiff arms and legs.

"Unfortunately my dearest prince, we are to help you dress as well, as you know. Our beloved king has informed us that the original rules are to be reinforced with the utmost strictness. So my lord, please open the door so we can get you ready."

I sigh, there goes all the hard work I completed over the past fortnight. My father, the king, had stationed this group of five or so knights to "protect" me. I know that if I don't let them in soon, they will let themselves in, so I may as well appear to be tolerable, if I don't they'll inform father.

Sir John leads them into the room, once I manage to open the heavy oak doors. When I say that I opened them, it means that I pulled on the blasted handle for thirty ticks or so, then Sir John gently pushed the door the rest of the way for me. I sigh, this just feeds into everyone's idea that I'm just weak, fragile, and helpless.

The other knights begin to assemble my; cream undershirt, thick white tunic, two layer navy tunic, dark grey overcoat, thin white cotton underpants, heavy dark grey breeches, my navy and grey striped tie, and my thick soled black leather boots that go up to my calf. Sir John approaches and pulls me to the center of the room. I start to pull my nightshirt over my head, but gentle arms stop me. Sir John and his second in command, Sir Anthony, smile sympathetically at me.

I sigh and let out a slight groan, then yield to them. The five knights work quickly and dexterously to strip me down, hand me soap, guide me toward the washing tub, let me wash my face and upper body, and redress me. The more layers they add the harder it is to move my arms as I normally do, it's as if I'm wearing armor. But of course that's what father really wants, he is very overprotective, but only towards me, my older two brothers are very independent.

Their gentle hands finally stop pulling on my day clothes, and I take it as a sign that I'm ready to go, but then they pull me toward the looking glass I have stationed at my mother's request. I drag my feet to the point where Sir John basically picks me up and cradles me to his chest as if I were a child of young age again, and carries me across the overly spacious chamber. I blush lightly and mumble out an apology as I am set directly in front of said glass. I stare directly at the floor, then half-heartedly drag my eyes up to study my ghastly self. My pale, milky skin, stands out prominently against the dark clothes, my naturally wavy, short bronze hair flops all over in a mess on the top of my head, falling into my eyes. My light, cornflower blue eyes trace the freckles that dance across my cheeks and my nose.

Even at sixteen, my head barely comes up to the soldiers of the surrounding knights, and they exhibit the average height of five feet and six inches. I have no muscles to show proof of my age either, I look like a newborn horse; gangly, awkward, unable to walk without falling at some point, all bones, and so forth. When fully dressed in the heavy clothes I have on now, it just makes me look even thinner, and more uncoordinated because I can't move as normally. The knights press a little closer into me, and start to place their hands comfortingly on my shoulders and arms, Sir John even comes up from behind me and places his hand on the base of the back of my neck.

They've grown to notice when I'm thinking too critically about myself, and stopped me before I could revert into my darker mindsets. I appreciate it.

I'm turned around and marched into the breakfast hall, my mother, father, and two brothers are waiting and the servers line the walls, arms filled with trays. I keep my eyes on the floor, and then the knights break their formation around me, so I can make it to my chair next to my mother, and across from my two brothers - Henry is the oldest and Bayard is the second oldest.

"So my darling youngest boy, what took you so long this morn?" My mother asked, fondness in her soft green eyes.

"Pray tell, little George, did you not hear the morning bells?" Bayard asked, mirth and annoyance in his dark brown eyes.

"Oh lump it, Bayard, and let the poor boy get some food," Henry chimed in as father motioned for the servers to set down the food. Henry was the most level-headed of the three of us, but Bayard wouldn't let it go that easily, he wanted me to feel even more useless and small than I already do.

"But ickle little Georgie, are you ill? Do you need to retire to your chambers before you hurt yourself? Oh, never mind my jest, your big protective knights won't let you hurt yourself." He sneered at me, and I shrank farther into my plush chair, not even bothering to retaliate, my mother sighs and began to say something when my father cut in on my behalf.

"Alright, Bayard. Could we please save this conversation and talk later, like real lords should. You jest as if you were once again a young lord, my dear son."

My eyes remained downcast as the servers continue to make their rounds and fill all of our plates with; various fresh fruit, pastries, and different flavored crepes.

"My prince, what would you like to sample and break your fast with on this gooden day?" One of the servers asked me, as he had asked the others, but he didn't really ask me, it was just a formality. Sir John (the lead knight) always picked what I would eat, just like my father has requested, he cut in with a graceful wave of his hand, and with my father's nod, addressed the server.

"Thank you my Gracious King. Our dearest Prince George would like ..." I tuned him out and continued to look down, and twisted my fingers together, then spread them out, made a fist, and so forth. Each time I change and create a new position I study each and every detail, it's as if my hands change everyday, but they never do, it provokes such deep thoughts and emotions that I'm so deeply enthralled that it blocks out the banes of my existence whether they be people or moments. I intertwine and intently examine my hands this way when the room gets dry and dull - my musing is suddenly cut off my a loud bang.

I jolt and look up, Bayard has dropped a large metal platter, and grins devilishly at me, having made me jump. I startle easily, by loud noises, sudden noises, sudden/sharp movements, and he knows this, "Oh baby prince, your delicacies are getting cold..." he trails off, feigning innocence. "Should we feed you again as we had the delight of doing when you broke your fast yesterday morn, or for luncheon, or for supperclub?"

He paused and smiled sadly at me, mockingly, "You really need to take better care of yourself, or father might dare to assume that these knights aren't up to the caliber of watching such a young and delicate prince..."

My mother sharply turned her head toward him, and lowly said with a dangerous tone, "Bayard, you best stop your loose-lipped tongue, or-"

"My dearest wife and queen, he knows what could happen. Bayard, you are to leave the table, go to the jousting room, tell Sir Louis that you are to be trained until you break. Henry my boy, once you finish breaking your fast, accompany him, and train as well..." my father went on to give many other instructions to the servers, and the room suddenly empties, save for me, my knights, and my parents. Even the table is empty except for my plate, which I hadn't touched.

"I don't have a need to break my fast, I swear father, I- "

"George, you will eat, or so help me boy, I shall not sit by while you waste away... We were hoping to tell you later on, but suitors are coming to visit soon, and we need you to be healthy and presentable..." He looked at me waiting for me to get it.

"What do you mean suitors?"  I asked sounding confused and panicked.