As of June 03, 2006: In response to one reviewer who calls me out for being rude though she had absolutely no idea why there is a gap in updating, I'll explain. I'm sorry, but one: I've got writer's block, which seems to be affecting some other stories. Two: I'm under a great deal of stress right now as it is with personal issues. I've just worked ten hours today and am dead tired on my feet and I was actually going to try and write up a chapter, but now I'm just a little bit miffed. I'm graduating in four days, going on vacation to visit family in seven days, and then I will be preparing for college on top of working. Now, add all that to my lack of ideas, and maybe you get the picture. I will get back to this story eventually. Sending me reviews like Miss Sydney, however flattering it might be that people love my story so, is not appreciated. Word to the wise, don't do it. I don't care if you nag at me gently, but I have a short temper as it is. This is why I never nag at people who don't update the stories I'm reading because I actually understand where they might be coming from. I don't know what's going on, so I don't think I have the right to call them rude or uncaring for not updating.
Sorry for coming off so bitchy, but I'm really tired.
Title: Bleeding Rose
Summary: Ella and Char's son, Tristan, did not foresee the consequences of breathing life back into a drowned maiden floating in the River Lucarno. Now he must use every ounce of wit, strength, and courage he possesses to deal with the onslaught of deadly blood feuds, struggles for a throne, a criminally insane sorceress hell bent on subverting mankind to her own macabre designs, and the fate of his own kingdom hanging precariously over the balance.
Disclaimer: I own nothing original of anything. Everything that is original from Ella Enchanted or any of Gail Carson Levine's books belongs solely to her. Not me. Capishe? I own some characters, the plot of this fic, the Empire of Ecóran and anything that pertains to it, and some other tidbits that come from that wacky imagination of mine.
A/N: This is most definitely a lot darker and more dramatic than Ella Enchanted. If that isn't exactly your cup of tea, then don't read it. Don't bother flaming me because it will not deter me from writing what my muse demands. But if really desire to make yourself look like a jackass, then by all means….
IMPORTANT: Btw, I don't know what the rules of inheritance are in Kyrria or whatnot, but I assume it's firstborn male. Tough shit! In this fic, it's firstborn. Get over it. My world, my rules. Oh and don't confuse the title with anything pertaining to other fairy tales, or at least the more famous ones. This has nothing to do with Sleeping Beauty or anything else.
Rating: The rating is a general PG-13, almost over the edge, but not quite if you catch my drift save for a few select chapters that will go up to R for extreme content, all of which I shall promptly post rating warnings on for those with delicate minds. No offense meant, it's just I know some avid readers like that.
Strolling at a casual gait through the thick forest, the driver of the orange coach whistled a jaunty tune as he guided the frisky beasts towards Frell, the city where the rulers of the kingdom of Kyrria dwelt. The leaves were a blazoning myriad of radiant reds, and oranges, and yellows as they swayed gently over the pathways in the autumn wind. The driver shivered a bit at the crispness of the early morning air and drew his thick, black cloak tighter about his shoulders and flicked the reins to incite the horses to trot a bit faster.
Nestled safely inside the warmth of the pumpkin colored carriage—which had been the rather odd queen of Kyrria's idea—were a boy and girl of seventeen years of age. Both sported dark, glossy brown tresses, normally fair skin that was now bronzed slightly due to the summer sun, small rounded faces with a dusting of freckles across the nose, and bottle green eyes that sparkled with humor and a spot of mischief. They were the twin children of King Charmont and Queen Eleanor of Kyrria, Prince Tristan and Princess Lilliana.
Tristan, the slightly elder and self-perceived wiser of the two, was currently trying to bury himself in a thick book on the history of Ayortha that his noble hosts had been so gracious to bestow upon he and his sister as a parting gift. Unfortunately, his attempts at mentally evading his sister's jabbering were all to no avail as he could still hear her prattling on about nothing. And this book was rather boring.
Fancy that, a book about Ayortha is boring, he mused to himself silently.
Lilliana had been in withdrawal of talkative human companionship for nearly five months. The Ayorthians were a quiet lot who perceived conversation as something to be done only when absolutely necessary, which in their minds meant almost never. Char, their father, had told them of his yearlong visit to the kingdom when he had been a few years older than his two youngest children were. He often commented on the Ayorthians' tendency to avoid speaking casually at all costs in public as if it were something scandalous. This was bad news for Lilliana who was one of the most gregarious and extroverted people in the world.
Most everyone else, including their own Kyrrian Royal Court and visiting dignitaries, became instantly enamored of the young princess due to her likeable charm. Only the Ayorthians hadn't taken to her charms quite as readily as everyone else had and it had been rather off-putting to Lilliana. The only ones that had been charmed by her quickly were their Aunt Areida's sons, Arrin and Coram of Amonta.
Now, she was making up for holding all those whizzing thoughts under lock and key in her brimming mind. She had worked so hard to exercise self-control over her runaway mouth, but once she let loose a few contemplations the rest followed suit. And Tristan was suffering the brunt of it. He loved his twin very much, truly he did, but she could be so exasperating at times.
"Tristan, we must find someway to convince Papa that I should be allowed to train in combat. It's not like I want to go off to war, although I could hardly say no if it were absolutely necessary, but I do want to be able to protect myself," Lilly said. Unlike most obsessions that hit Lilly, this one about combat had stuck for years.
Tristan sighed and massaged his temples. "What do you need to protect yourself for, we have bodyguards to do that for us."
His twin promptly responded with a raised eyebrow and pointed glare. "So do you, and so do all our male cousins, and so does Papa, but they still got to be trained in sword fighting and the like. I do not know what your problem with it all is."
Tristan shrugged his shoulders at Lilly's remark and responded in a dry voice, "Violence and the use of weapons have never appealed to me. I do not know why it should appeal to you."
Lilly took on a serious expression and murmured darkly, "Because I am forbidden from it. No other girls are; just me. Just because I am a damn princess and I have to set a lady-like example. Honestly, it's not like I am the heir either. Ellie is; she can be the damn example!"
Tristan laid a hand on his sister's knees to placate her and then quirked a strange smile. "You and I both know Ellie isn't a lady. I thought we agreed she was kidnapped by ogres at birth and replaced with one of their slimy young."
Lilly snorted and her mood was lightened slightly at she and her brother's inside joke for their nineteen-year-old sister, Eleanor. She was named after their mother like all firstborn daughters in their mother's family were, but just as their mother preferred to be called Ella, their sister preferred to be called Ellie. Shrewd, calculating, and extremely intimidating in her own right, Ellie was the perfect candidate to take on the throne when the time came. Since she had been properly made privy to the fact that she was the heiress to the throne of Kyrria in her status as firstborn child she had immersed herself in the politics of the kingdom. She was deadly intent on ensuring that her reign over the kingdom would be fruitful one.
She attended court assemblies with her parents daily, consulted with her parents and dozens of advisors over different proclamations, and even drew up plans for ideas to bolster the economy of Kyrria. She bore no interest to the fighting arts for herself personally like her younger sister did, but she was quite clever in the rules of warfare and the strategic battle techniques one had to so often use. Their father often joked he had might as well step down and relax to let Ellie barrel on ahead to do all the work. There was no doubt that she would be a fine leader of their beloved kingdom.
Somehow, down in the deepest recesses of their hearts, Tristan and Lilly did love their elder sister, but most of the time they resented that haughty swagger of hers as she sauntered through the hallways of the palace en route to some important meeting. They remembered a time when she had been fun; when she had gone hunting, fishing, riding, camping, hiking, swimming, or anything pertaining to fun with them. Thoughts of the future were so dominating in her drive that she no longer had time for the present and it positively sucked in their opinion.
A slight cramp in his leg jolted Tristan out of his thoughts and he fancied that it was time for a break. He sorely needed to stretch his legs and he needed to get away from Lilly's incessant chatter for a while. He opened one of the carriage windows and yelled for the driver and the surrounding knight-bodyguards and servants on horseback to halt for a short break.
Lilly tightened her dark, crimson red cloak draping elegantly over her pale rose-colored traveling gown to ward off the coolness of the air holding the grim hint of colder weather to come. She grimaced at the thought of winter for she hated cold weather with a passion. Taking the proffered hand of a guard, Lilly stepped down from the carriage.
Tristan raised an eyebrow and snorted wryly at his sister. "What is this? The little warrior-princess to be needs help stepping from a carriage?"
Lilly merely shrugged and said nonchalantly, "I never said there was anything wrong with chivalry."
Lilly sat down on a blanket spread out by the servants that had accompanied them and dined on a brisk lunch of meat and cheese while chatting amiably with their subjects. Tristan took his twin's preoccupation as an opportunity to obtain some much-needed solitude, however temporary it would be. He informed his guards that he was going for a short walk around the area—which he knew fairly well—with a promise to stay within reasonable shouting distance. He refused their offers to shadow him by insisting that he would be in no danger and if so he would certainly be close enough to garner their attention.
Tristan deftly treaded along the blanketed forest while stopping occasionally to collect a medicinal herb or plant to take back to the Kyrrian healing mistress, who was also his teacher. While his sisters, Ellie and Lilly, possessed passions for politics and combat respectively, he on the other hand was entranced by the art of healing. His greatest desire was to become a renowned doctor, skilled in all manners of healing so he would be able to travel all over the world to offer his services where it would be less available. He was very thankful he didn't have the burden of ruling a family being held over him like his sister. At least he did not envy Ellie that.
He stooped by the bank of the River Lucarno and whispered a jaunty tune similar to the one his driver had been whistling, a tune from Ayortha, and dug up some roots from a plant that was used for pain relief. His jade-green eyes occasionally shifted to the frigid waters of the river drifting languidly by. A pang of nostalgia for the summer days long ago when Ellie had been enjoyable to be around for long periods of time and he and his twin sister had lived within bubbles of innocence. He would give anything to feel that confident security again, but alas, as the amount of years one spends in life gets larger, the innocence gets smaller. He remembered the summers that they would spend days just swimming in the river and picnicking on its banks.
His eyes glanced over a log floating by and he casually turned away. Seeing stray bits of wood floating in the river was not uncommon and he dismissed it immediately. When he happened to look upon it again, he glanced at something that did merit attention.
A body was draped over the large piece of tree with the upper half being held up above the water by the wood and the lower half enshrouded by the frigid liquid. Tristan gasped and quickly shot to his feet, while unclasping his long cloak and shedding his royal blue sleeveless tunic covering his white, long-sleeved shirt. He called out to the rest of the party before splashing into the river. He yelped in displeasure as his skin made contact with the freezing water, but shook it off and continued to wade deeper out. Right as the rest of the group came running to the bank, the body slipped off the log and sank underneath the dark water. Tristan cursed and prepared to dive under.
"Tristan, you dolt! Are you insane? That water is freezing! Get back here this instant before I throttle you!" Lilly's cries pierced the air as fear for her brother's life took hold.
"Your Highness, I implore you. Please come back! Your parents will have my head if you drown!" Sir Gregory, Tristan's chief bodyguard, pleaded. He was shedding his own plate armor in preparation for going after his charge.
"Someone's in the river and they're unconscious! They'll drown if I don't get to them!" Tristan cried back before diving under.
Lilly slammed her foot down on the ground as a combination of fear, perplexity, and complete fury directed towards that dratted twin of hers threw her into a pacing frenzy. She would have waded in there herself and dragged his insolent hide back to shore were her guards not surrounding her at the moment. They most certainly would have foiled that rescue attempt by pulling her back. Though she commanded authority over them generally, in situations when her safety was compromised they had full reign.
More guards were shedding their armor to go in after their mad prince. Her anxious ladies-in-waiting assailed the princess as they watched the guards go into the river. Everyone released breaths no one knew he or she had been holding when Tristan surfaced.
Lilly took it as a chance to yell out to him again, "Now, can you get back here before you freeze!"
Tristan gestured for them to wait a little while longer. He dove under again causing Lilly to cry out in frustration and resume her pacing. It was an agonizingly long time before he surfaced again, sputtering and coughing up river water and hanging onto a limp person. As he swam closer, Lilly and the others could see that it was a girl he was holding. He met one of his guards two-thirds of the way back and the guard took the girl from him while another helped to drag him forward.
The guard laid the girl down on the river bank and Lilly ran forward to grasp her brother's freezing hands and yank him forward. A servant draped his cloak around him and another wrapped a thick blanket round him to warm him up. He was visibly shaking from the cold and his lips were turning a bluish color. The prince's guards started bustling around him like nursemaids before he yelled out in a commanding voice, "Let me see to her!"
He made a beeline for the young lady lying on the cold, hard ground. His sister followed with an annoyed expression on her face and stooped down beside the girl. She looked to Sir Gregory, the one who had carried her out of the river, and he shook his head regretfully.
She gasped when she got a better look at the girl's condition. Not only was she freezing to the touch, her skin was ashen and her body was covered with bruises and wounds ranging from superficial cuts to deeper scratches to stab wounds. Her once fine gown was stained with blood, mud, and soaked from river water and it was ripped beyond repair. Her right arm was situated in an unnatural angle belying breaks in more than once place. The crimson thread of a cut forming a jagged, oblique pathway across the entire area marred her forehead. The rest of her face was filled with small cuts and her right eye was bruised badly.
Tristan's medical training kicked in after the initial shock at seeing the girl's horrendous state. He cleared away the sopping strands of hair plastered to her face and leaned forward to put his ear to her blue lips. He was dismayed when he heard no breath and was further dismayed when he felt no pulse. He instantly placed both his hands on her chest and began to compress rhythmically, while occasionally pinching her nose and breathing into her mouth. He tried desperately to get her heart started again. He did not even consider the fact that she might have already been dead by the time she sank into the water, he just kept trying and trying to incite a breath.
Lilly shook her head despairingly and felt tears unbidden sting the back of her eyes. She did not know this girl, but she already felt a sort of grief for her death. "Tristan, it's no use. She's—"
The princess was cut off by a hoarse retching sound as the seemingly dead girl came back to life and spewed up river water and other fluids Lilly could have gone without seeing. She gasped for air and continued to heave and cough. The girl sat up, subconsciously cradling her broken arm to her body, and leaned forward on one hand as she expelled all the river water that had filled her lungs. Her body shook from the effects of hypothermia and her teeth chattered. Tristan draped his own blanket around her shoulders, while smiling encouragingly. The girl peered warily through a curtain of sodden locks at her surroundings. She looked down at her body and then back to Tristan and Lilly, staring at her in concern and surprise.
Tristan cleared his throat and spoke softly, "It is all right, my lady. You are safe now."
The girl gave the closest impression she was able to at the moment of an ironic laugh and replied ominously in an almost guttural voice, "Never safe," before collapsing into Lilly's lap. Lilly stared down at the girl in incredulity before meeting the troubled gaze of her twin's. The servants and guards forming a circle around them whispered noisily in amazement.
After a beat, Tristan rose and addressed the people around him, "Wrap her up in more blankets and bring her to the carriage. I will attend to her until we reach the palace and then she shall be given over to the care of the palace physicians."
Sir Gregory gently brought the girl into his arms and cradled her against his chest, adding his own warmth to her freezing body. He carried the girl to the orange coach and after his prince and princess settled themselves in, set the girl on a bundle of blankets. After everyone else was ready to leave, the driver flicked the reins and set the horses off at a much faster pace than before. It would take hours to get back to the palace and they would be well into late afternoon by then. The girl would need proper medical attention before it was too late.
King Charmont of Kyrria, known to his closest consorts and family as Char, looked upon the deathly pale maiden whom his son had rescued from the cold waters of the River Lucarno and breathed life back into. Anger surged through his veins at the thought of what she had suffered to end up in this atrocious condition. Who could do something like this to a young girl?
His wife, Queen Eleanor, better known as Ella, ran a finger over the girl's bruised, white hand and whimpered softly. "She's so young, barely older than our Lilly. Who would do such a thing, Char?"
Char sighed as his love asked the same question aloud he had been thinking. He shook his head and murmured, "I do not know, Ella. I simply do not know."
The girl's wounds had been bandaged and taken into account to try and garner some inkling of what had happened to her. A dozen palace physicians, including the mistress healer, had attended to the young lady for hours in the sole attempt at warming her body up. They forced warm liquids down her throat and placed hot water bottles under her body while wrapping her up in thick blankets. The wounds requiring suturing, including the ones on her left shoulder and the front of her right thigh, were promptly stitched up and wrapped in poultices and her broken arm was set to its proper position and held immobile in a splint.
Their eldest child, Ellie, stood on the other side of the girl's bed with an unreadable expression set upon her sharp, dusky features. Her tawny locks were not up in the usual bun, but hung down her back in soft curls. Her head was tilted slightly to betray her deep pensive mood. After a while, her brow furrowed and she turned her piercing blue eyes towards her parents. "Mother, Father, does she look…familiar to you?"
Ella and Char exchanged perplexed looks at their daughter's question, but took a closer look at the girl. After her hair had dried a bit, they saw it was turning a beautiful shade of golden amber brown that hung down to her elbows. Her face was not extraordinarily beautiful like that of Princess Cecilia's, Char's younger sister, but had a certain prettiness to it all on its own—the cuts and bruises aside. Her nose was smallish and pert; her eyes were evenly placed under golden-brown eyebrows; her mouth was vulnerably soft with full lips promising a rosy color at full health. An examination by the female healers had been able to narrow her age down to somewhere in her late teens; near the age of Tristan and Lilly's seventeen. She had medium-sized, but full, rounded breasts with modest curves and shapely legs to complete her attractive feminine figure.
Ella felt the sensation of dèjá vu enfold her after staring at the girl for a while. But she could not recall the foggiest instance where she had met or seen the child. She had a face that was subtly lovely, but it was not a face that would stick out in a crowd. The once-fineness of her violet gown had inferred a girl of at least wealthy background, if not noble or royal. But the girl could just as easily have stolen the gown from a family that was wealthy and had been caught and punished. But that seemed very unlikely if the girl was familiar to the royal family of Kyrria.
She looked to her husband and saw that he too was feeling the elusive sense of recognition. "Now that I think about it, she does look rather familiar. But I cannot seem to recall where I saw her."
"I cannot either, Father. It is like the memories from when I was young. They are fuzzy and unclear to me, but as real as any sharp memory from recent history," Ellie intoned softly, her face still frowning.
Whispered conversation caused the three royals to turn their attention to the Jasmine, the mistress healer, and Tristan and Lilly. Tristan was wrapped in a thick cloak and seemed to have suffered no long-term ill effects from the unexpected swim in the river.
"But will she awaken?" they heard Lilly ask solemnly.
Jasmine bowed to her king and queen before answering the young princess's question. "It's hard to say, Your Highness. In cases like these it's different for everyone. She could awaken anytime from three hours from now to three days to three weeks to…never."
Lilly blanched at the thought and glanced in concern at her twin brother. His demeanor betrayed his distraught attitude towards his mentor's dim prognosis. She knew her twin all too well and she knew he was burning to find out where this girl came from and what had happened to put her in such a predicament. Mysteries had the tendency to drive Tristan insane until he or someone else solved them. If he was not able to understand something that most certainly could eventually be understood…well he was not among the most pleasant people to be in the vicinity of.
"Jasmine, what do you think happened to her?" Tristan asked, desperate for some piece of this tantalizing puzzle.
Jasmine rubbed her temples and said, "The most I can deduce is what is obvious. She must have been attacked, because not all of these wounds were caused by a fall or a push into the river. Whether the battle was happenstance or pre-meditated we shall not know unless she awakens and tells us."
"Poor child," Ella breathed sorrowfully.
"There are some other things I found rather strange, but intriguing about this girl when I examined her, Your Majesties," Jasmine told them. She walked to the girl's side and gently lifted the arm that was not broken and pulled the sleeve of the white hospital gown to bare the naked, bruised flesh of her arm. "See the muscle tone," Jasmine pointed out. Indeed, the girl's arm was not soft as most girls' arms of wealthy background were wont to be. There were small (after all, girls can only obtain so much muscle mass before looking very unattractive), hard muscles there.
"It's the same all over her body. Her abdominal muscles, calves, thighs…she's in fit shape. This was a girl who was not idle. At first, I believed her to be a peasant farm girl since it is mostly those girls who have such strength in their arms and such muscle. Yet, she has does not show the markings of a rough life on the farm and of course the fine gown did not add credibility to that theory. To gain muscles like that would mean she would have some roughness to her, scarring and calluses and the like. Then I saw this."
Jasmine lifted the limp left hand and showed them faint scars on the flimsy web of flesh connecting the thumb and forefinger. The scars were thin, whitish lines located perpendicular to the thumb and forefinger and appeared to be old and long healed. Closer looks showed that more than one scar lie over top of another showing she obtained the small wound over and over again from a long time ago.
A sharp intake of breath was heard from the king as he came to realize what Jasmine was getting to. "That's the sort of wound one normally gets in sword-training. It comes from the inexperienced cutting themselves upon sheathing and drawing their swords; the blade slices the skin between the thumb and forefinger of the hand holding the scabbard sometimes. I've never done it that I can remember, but two of my brothers have done it. Darron did it so often my mother feared he would slice clear through his skin one of those times."
"So she knew how to wield a sword. That tells us nothing really," Ellie declared coldly.
"It does give us a bit more insight into the girl. And we could use all we find, Ellie, if we are to help her," her mother countered gently.
"It does not necessarily mean she knows how to wield a sword, Your Highness, merely that she was trained at some point in time. Judging from the scars, it took her a while to sheathe and withdraw her sword without cutting herself, which means she was probably trained at a young age or was a bit slow to learn. But for all I can tell, she could be rather horrid at it. That she did much strenuous exercise is evident," Jasmine clarified, laying the girl's hand to rest on her stomach.
"It also shows she was right-handed if that's worth anything," Lilly interjected lamely.
After a beat of silence, Char yawned and draped an arm over his wife. "Unless you have any other enlightening news, Lady Jasmine, it is rather late and we should retire to sleep."
"Of course, Your Majesty. If anything else of interest comes up I shall notify you and the queen immediately. And Her Royal Highness as well," Jasmine said, bowing in deference to her lieges and the crown princess.
Tristan cleared his throat in a very conspicuously inconspicuous way of letting Jasmine know that he too wished to be notified. Char smiled and nodded his head. "Since Tristan and Lilly were the ones to bring her to us and my son did rescue her, it is only fair that they too are notified. Satisfied, Tristan?" The king smiled wryly at his son.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Jasmine complied, winking at Tristan. He probably would be among the first to know anything if Jasmine knew her young pupil at all.
The king and queen left with Ellie following close behind, leaving Jasmine, Tristan, and Lilly with the slumbering girl. Soon Lilly and Jasmine departed leaving only Tristan to watch over her. The prince stood there, staring intently at the girl, trying to discern an inkling of information from her enigmatic presence. He felt the effects of fatigue gnaw at him and weaken his strong resolve. Finally, he turned away with a discouraged sigh to go to bed. He would be forced to wait an agonizing amount of time until she woke up to explain who she was and what had happened. He was going to go insane with curiosity before that.
Tristan sighed wearily and muttered to no one in particular as he trudged to his private quarters, "She better awaken soon."